Scott:

Everything fell apart when Nina left.

Evolving Whistle was our garage band. Zane did lead vocals and occasional stints at the piano. I played lead guitar. Jeremy Knox was on bass, and Andy Lloyd played drums. We were four guys who went to high school together, fancied ourselves musicians and played for the love of it.

Then one of our songs got picked up for a commercial, and Evolving Whistle exploded.

At the start, the fame was addictive. Night after night, chicks threw themselves at us, all craving rock star dick, and we were young and stupid, and we loved it.

But it grew old pretty damn quick.

I remember the night I decided I was done. Some girls had come back up to our suite after the show. Clothes were shed, joints were lit, bottles of beer opened. A blonde groupie had been grinding her pussy against my cock when my mom had called, and I realized I was ashamed to pick up the phone. I was ashamed of who I’d become.

A couple of months after that, Zane and I met Nina in Boston. We’d just finished a show, and we’d been searching for a place to eat in the North End. As we walked by a tiny bar, we’d spotted the lone waitress working the venue, a tiny dark-haired woman with bottle green eyes. She’d looked up, and we’d locked eyes, and I just knew. She was the one.

It hadn’t lasted. Eighteen months later, a day after her twenty-fifth birthday, she’d packed her bags and left us.

For months after Nina left, it hurt to breathe. I couldn’t come up with new songs. I’d stare at my guitar, and my stomach would twist into a knot. It was a complete disaster.

Now we’re in the town that Nina lives in, and both Zane and I are avoiding talking about the elephant in the room. We know that she owns a bar in town, but we’re both staying away from it.

Nina broke my heart when she left without talking to us, leaving only a short, stilted note that explained nothing. I don’t want to run into her, and I don’t want her back. I’m never going to give someone that kind of power over my heart.

* * *

Zane:

I’m not in New Summit because of Nina. I’m only here because my dad needs a favor.

Here’s the thing about my father. He’s a good guy, but he’s a crazy workaholic. His real estate development company has always come first. I know that. My sister knows that, and my mom knows that.

Except that after thirty-four years of feeling like second-best, my mother had enough. Three months ago, she left him, and that was the wake-up call my father needed. He went after my mother, promised her things would be different, and since then, he’s been systematically finding people to take over all his projects.

“The subdivision is almost done,” he’d said to me when he called. “All you have to do is manage the sales process.”

“In New Summit,” I’d said flatly. Yes, fine. I admit it. I’m not a fucking saint, okay? I Googled Nina to see where she’d ended up.

“Please, Zane,” he’d said.

It was the ‘please’ that did it. My father has never asked me for anything. He didn’t complain when I took off to play in a band rather than join his business. He spends all his time working, but I’ve never doubted that he loves me.

So here we are. The timing is pretty convenient. For the first time in months, we have nothing scheduled on our calendars. After more than five years of non-stop touring and recording, we finally have time for a vacation.

There’s very little to do in New Summit—no clubs, no underground concert scene, nothing. The only decent bar is run by my ex-girlfriend. I thought I’d miss the energy of Manhattan, but the peace and quiet are surprisingly nice.

There’s a series of loud knocks on the front door. Frowning at the noise, I head to answer it. “If this is some kid selling Girl Scout cookies, I’m going to be cranky,” I mutter darkly.

Scott looks up with a grin. “Don’t bite the kid’s head off,” he advises. “It’s a good cause. Get me a couple of boxes of Thin Mints.”

It’s not a Girl Scout at the door.

It’s Nina.

She’s wearing jeans and a long-sleeved black sweater. A moss green woolen scarf is wrapped around her neck. Her cheeks are pink with cold, and her jewel green eyes sparkle with rage, and when I see her, the two years drop away.

“What the fuck,” she begins, her voice low and dangerous, “are you playing at, Zane? What are you doing in my town?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Matthew’s truck pull up in front of the last unfinished house. “Would you like to yell at me in the street, or would you like to come in?”

She catches sight of Matthew and mutters a curse under her breath. “Fine.” She pushes past me and stalks into the living room, an angry scowl on her face. She’s a tiny little thing, Nina, but every inch of her body radiates outrage.

It’s been twenty months since she left. I thought I was over her, but the heat coursing through my blood tells me I’m not as immune to Nina as I’d like to be.

Scott’s body goes still when he sees her, and his eyes turn wary. “Nina,” he says. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

“No.” She shakes her head vehemently. “We’re not going to make polite small talk, Scott. You do not get to do this. You don’t get to waltz into New Summit, and you don’t get to walk all over my heart again.” She takes a deep breath, and when she continues, the life in her voice has leached away. “Why are you here, and when are you leaving?”

Scott’s lips tighten with anger. “Maybe we’re moving here,” he replies coolly. “I’ve always wanted to run a concert venue, and I hear there’s a vacancy next door to your bar.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Isn’t your building for sale? I might buy that.”

Her face pales. “You wouldn’t,” she whispers, her hands clenching into fists. “Even you wouldn’t go that far.”

Scott shrugs. “You know me, baby,” he says callously. “I’m a prick with a fuckton of money.”

I should put an end to this conversation. Scott has no intention of staying in New Summit; he’s lashing out from a place of hurt. Except I don’t want to play peacemaker, and I don’t want to soothe her fears. I thought I was over her, but the anger in my heart makes me realize I was lying to myself.

“Why are you playing the aggrieved party, Nina?” I raise an eyebrow at her. “We were together for eighteen months, but you couldn’t even say goodbye in person. No notice, no warning, just you walking out one night while we were on stage, and you’re angry at us?”

My voice starts to rise, and I take a deep breath and force myself to calm down.

Nina laughs sharply, disbelievingly. “What a fantastically revisionist history, Zane,” she snaps. “You’re going to stand there and pretend you didn’t see it coming? For eighteen months, I played second fiddle to the band. You’ve conveniently forgotten how adrift I felt, haven’t you? I kept telling you I didn’t want to live on the road, and you kept ignoring me to focus on the next show. Was I supposed to follow you around like a puppy forever?”

“I had to focus on the next show,” I snarl back, cut to the bone at the notion that she thinks she came second. “You think I enjoyed being on the road? You think I enjoyed the crappy motels, the smoky bars, the constant fatigue? I was doing it to secure our future.”

“Our future.” She shakes her head, a resigned look on her face. “You were so busy thinking about the future that you forgot about the present. You didn’t leave me any other choice.”

You didn’t leave me any other choice.

I inhale sharply. For thirty-four years, my mother waited for her husband to realize what was important, and he never had. I’m just as big a fool. My body rebelled when Nina left, and I lost my voice for a week, and I still didn’t get it, but now she’s here, and I understand.

She shoves her hands into her pockets. “Everyone has a price,” she says, her gaze moving from me to Scott. “What’s yours?”

“You want us gone.”

“I do.” There’s no hesitation in her voice and a piece of my heart shreds, but at the same time, resolve stiffens my spine. I thought I was over her, but I’m not. I’m going to fight for her.

“We’ll leave,” I reply. “On one condition.”

“What do you want?”

“You play a game with us.”

Her body tenses. We’d said that to her the first night we met her, and her eyes had sparkled with anticipation and desire, but that was then, and this is now. She remembers the line because she replies using the same words she had more than three years ago. “What are the rules?” she whispers.

“You’re ours for five nights, from six in the evening until six in the morning. No holds barred. Nothing held back.”

“Is this about sex?” She rolls her eyes, disgust clearly written on her face. “Of course it is.”

Her assumption takes my breath away. I shake my head, feeling a profound sense of loss when I realize how little she thought we cared.

Next to me, Scott laughs without humor. “Sex was never the problem between us, Neen,” he says curtly. “I can walk into your bar, and in less than ten minutes, I can find someone who wants to sleep with me. Our sex life was pretty fucking good, but that’s not why we were together.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but Scott puts up his hand to stop her. “If you win the game,” he says, “you get to ask for anything you want from us, and if it is within our power to give it to you, we will.”

“You’ll move away if I do what you want for five nights?”

“Yes,” I interject, my voice harsh.

She gazes into my eyes. “Fine, Zane,” she says. “I’ll play your game. Bring it on.”