Kye
I throw myself into a chair at the back of the bus.
Fuck. Why did she come here today? Why the fuck did she have to appear, apologize, then kiss me like that? Why did she have to do something so goddamn real?
I know I’m not leaving. I know we’ll be back soon, but seeing the look on her face, on all the girls’ faces, I feel like a giant fucking asshole for even entertaining the idea that we can go and then come back to surprise them.
I want to run off this bus and yell at them that this is a ruse. To tell them all that we’re just really fucking shitty at buying Christmas presents and this is the best we could do.
Showing up on Christmas morning before everyone wakes up. Being there, sitting waiting for everyone to get up and find us. . . . That was it. To see their faces.
God, we’re assholes. We’re all fucking idiots. This doesn’t feel like the epic surprise we had in mind. It feels like a total dick move.
One by one, my brothers join me on the bus. Conner plops onto the seat opposite me and immediately drops his face into his hands. He’s facing away from Sofie and Mila, deliberately no doubt, and I can see the tension in his arms.
“All right?”
He shakes his head and looks up just enough that I can see the tears filling his eyes. “Who the fuck thought this was a good idea, huh? Leave and come back? It was pure fuckin’ genius, an epic surprise for them, until I just had to listen to my little girl scream ‘no’ because she realized I was leaving.”
I glance out the window. He’s right. Sofie is crying silently while holding Mila, and that little girl is screaming inconsolably. She’s reaching for the bus, and Dad has to step forward so Sofie doesn’t drop her because her drive to reach Conner is that strong.
Tate takes two steps onto the bus and drops his eyes to Conner. All he can see is the back of Conner’s head, but I can see the way my little brother’s tears spill over. He wipes harshly at his eyes and takes a deep breath.
I look up and meet Ads’s and Tate’s eyes one by one.
Nah, fuck this.
I get up and grab Conner’s shoulder. “Up. We’re telling them now.”
“What?”
“We’re not gonna pretend anymore,” I tell him, dragging him through the bus to Tate and Aidan. Together, we meet each other’s gazes and wordlessly agree that this is the right thing.
If Marc was still managing us, we wouldn’t have a choice. But we do, and this was our choice to stay. If we had any idea just how badly Mila would be affected by this, we never would have tried to surprise them on Christmas morning.
“Sweet fuck, Con,” Tate says, oddly gentle. “Go and stop my Mimi from cryin’, will ya?”
He doesn’t need telling twice.
“What are y’all doin’?” Mom gasps when we get off the bus.
“So, this is kinda fucked up,” Tate laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “And y’all are gonna kill us.”
“Tate Burke, you explain what the hell you’re going on about right now!” Ella growls, marching toward him with her finger outstretched.
Oh shit. She’s mad. And so is Jessie, if the narrowing of her eyes is anything to go by. Sofie just looks confused, but Mila is finally calming in Conner’s arms.
“We signed a deal with a management company in Charleston,” Tate rushes out. “We’re using their studio there instead of in L.A. We planned on coming back on Christmas morning and surprising you with the good news then, but damn. We couldn’t leave Mila crying like that. So . . . Surprise,” he finishes lamely.
“You’re . . . you’re staying?” Sofie breathes out. Conner nods in response, and she starts crying all over again. But it isn’t relief for her—it’s relief for Mila. I can feel it.
“What does this mean?” Dad questions, holding Mom to his side and rubbing her upper arm.
“What about the album?” Jessie asks, resting her hand on Aidan’s chest.
“Doesn’t change anything. We’re on track for it,” Aidan answers.
“Our label owns most of the lyric rights, and just because we sacked Marc doesn’t mean we’re changing recording labels. We just had to find a management company that worked with our label,” I explain. “We delayed the start of recording by a few weeks to get it done, that’s all.” I shrug.
Ella gasps loudly and shoves Tate. “That’s what you’ve all been doing when you’ve been sneaking around! And that’s why you locked me out of your email! You bastard!”
Tate grimaces, but has the decency to look sheepish. “I’m sorry, darlin’. We all had this great plan. . . . But we couldn’t let Mimi cry like that. We were gonna drive to Charleston, sign our contracts, stay over in a hotel, then come back on Christmas morning like four asshole Santa Clauses. We even bought Santa sweaters, because clearly we’re not as funny as we think we are.”
“I don’t believe y’all!” Jessie explodes. “Aidan Burke, I am so damn mad at you right now!”
Aidan holds his hands up and takes a step back. “Now, Jessie . . .”
I grin and shove my hands in my pockets. It seems like the only one not mad about the fact that we kept it a secret right now is Sofie, and I have the feeling it’s probably gonna stay this way.
I pull my keys from my pocket and look around at my family, from the happiness of my youngest brother to the frustration of the other two as they try to explain our reasoning for keeping it secret. I can’t decide if Ella and Jessie are serious or are just giving them a hard time, but I back away and scoot quietly toward my truck.
They’ve got their girls.
It’s time for me to go and get mine.
I should probably wear some protective gear or something. Like a cup. And a helmet. And shin pads.
Fuck. She might just kill me.
Anxiety riddles my body as I drive to her apartment. Shit. How do I explain to her that twenty minutes ago it seemed like I was willing to let her go? Well, I wasn’t. I’ve never been willing to let her go, not for a fucking second.
Everything changes with this new contract, and there really isn’t a chance I’m going to let her go. No long-distance relationship, no being separated for long periods of time—for the most part—and more importantly, more time to convince her that I’m what she needs. Who she needs.
I stop outside the main door. Fuck—the buzzer. I lean against the wall and rest my head against it in resignation. Well isn’t that a damn wrench in the works of my master plan?
Unless . . .
I push the buzzer for another apartment and grimace as I wait for an answer.
“Yeah?” A guy’s voice responds in a bored tone.
“Hey . . . I accidentally left my key inside my apartment. Could you open the door for me?”
“Sure.” His voice is the same low drawl, like he couldn’t care less, and the door clicks unlocked.
“Thanks, man.” I push it open and step into the hallway.
Thank fucking God.
I take the stairs two at a time, and when I reach Chelsey’s apartment, my lungs are burning from the quick exertion, and my body is on fire with apprehension.
I rap my knuckles against her door and grab either side of the doorframe, breathing deeply as I lean forward. The deadbolt turns. My heart thumps. The door opens, and Chelsey appears from behind it.
She freezes. Her eyes are red and swollen, and there’s a tear halfway down her cheek. She sniffs and swipes at it, regaining her composure somewhat, and looks all over my face as if she’s checking to see if it really is me. “Kye,” she breathes.
My lips tug to one side, and even though there are tears in her eyes, she looks so fucking gorgeous. “All right, babe?”