Libby

“What are you doing?”

I set the Moscow Mules on the wooden bar, flashing a sly grin at the man who’d ordered them when he left a hefty tip in their place. I made a show of slipping the business card he’d hidden under the bill in my pocket, then stuffed the cash in one of the nearly overflowing tip jars.

“I repeat: what are you doing?”

Finally letting my eyes shift to where my best friend had situated herself on a barstool, I gave her a dry look. “What does it look like?” I asked as I began making drinks for her and the rest of our friends—my family.

“It looks like you’re failing at avoiding someone.” Her eyes glinted with a tease. “Not that I’m disappointed.”

“Can’t avoid you when we live together, Einstein.”

She snatched a cherry from my station, twirling it between her fingers. “Was I talking about me? I don’t think I was. Then again, I think you already knew that because you’re not an idiot.” She placed the cherry between her teeth, smiling knowingly at me as she tore the stem out. “So . . . whatcha doing here?”

Instead of responding, I continued making the drinks for the people I knew wouldn’t be far behind her.

Einstein and I were too similar. If we wanted to know something, we didn’t stop until we had our answers. The only difference . . . Einstein was a genius—hence the nickname—and she usually already had all her answers. She just wanted the person to confirm them.

“Last I heard you were taking tonight off and staying far from The Jack and downtown.”

I slanted a glare at her but didn’t comment.

“Yet here you are. In the same lovely establishment a certain band is playing at tonight. A band a certain Max—”

“Someone needs to take home all the tips we’re gonna make tonight.” I sent her a smirk. “Might as well be me.”

Lie.

I had no doubt tonight’s tips would be better than I’d ever seen them. The Jack was overflowing with fans eagerly waiting to see Henley in the bar they’d started out in. But I wasn’t here for the tips.

I’d been at every one of Henley’s shows in this bar . . . and part of me couldn’t imagine being absent for this one. Another part swore I was standing tall because The Jack was my home and I refused to let any man run me from it. And yet, the biggest part was aching to know I hadn’t made it up—was begging to know it had all been real.

“When are you gonna let me give you my last name, Rebel?”

I raised my arms out wide, letting the breeze play through my fingers. “Told you I’m never letting a man tie me down.” A laugh ripped from my throat when Maxon grabbed my waist and pulled me to the ground with him.

He rolled on top of me and nipped my neck teasingly, his fingers racing up the inside of my thigh. It didn’t matter that we’d just finished not long before or that we were outside. We were somewhere no one would ever find us . . . and this was Maxon and me. We’d never been able to stay away from each other, and we only had days before he left again.

“I remember a few times you begged me to tie you down,” he murmured, his voice dripping with seduction.

My eyes fluttered shut, and my legs opened for him. “You know that’s not what I meant,” I said breathlessly when he pressed a finger inside me. “I don’t want to be owned. And you’ve never owned any part of me.”

From the laugh that shook his body before he kissed me, he could hear the lie in my voice.

Because he had owned me for as long as I could remember.

Heart. Body. Soul.

“And the show . . .?” Einstein asked, catching my attention again.

I lifted a shoulder and set the drinks on the bar. “There’s live music nearly every night. Tonight’s not any different.”

From the tick of Einstein’s brow, she knew I was lying.

Because it was different. It was so different.

Maverick slipped up behind Einstein and snatched a drink off the bar. “Are these for us?”

His identical twin squeezed into a space near Einstein and offered me a grin as he grabbed the wrong drink. “It’s like you knew we were coming.”

I pointed at Einstein. “I did. Clearly. And that’s not yours.” Taking the drink from his hand, I set it back on the bar and slid him his whiskey. “Where’s—” I looked up, a smile breaking across my face when I saw my brother, Dare, leading his wife toward the bar.

“This is insane,” she yelled to me once he had her pressed against the bar and was blocking anyone from getting too close to her.

“It usually is when they come back to town,” Dare responded, then looked up at me, concern shadowing his eyes. “How long has it—”

“Get me if you need anything else,” I called out quickly. But as soon as I turned to help more customers, Dare snatched my wrist and forced me to look at him.

He was younger by a few years, but he’d always seen me as his responsibility. At a young age, he’d been forced into a role no one outside our life would ever understand. He’d taken care of an entire family. Become a father figure and boss to many, and kept us together no matter the threat we faced. He’d kept me with the family no matter how many times I’d tried to rebel and run from responsibilities.

Except for the last six months. Nothing had been able to get through to me in that time.

I knew he was worried. Knew they all were.

There wasn’t a need to be. I’d be fine the morning Henley found themselves back on the road to California.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?” Dare demanded, his tone low and barely reaching me over the roar of the crowd.

I forced myself to stand naturally. Forced myself to stare at him like I had no idea who he could be asking me about.

My brother had an uncanny ability to detect when people were lying. It was unsettling.

“Seen who?”

Dare’s eyes narrowed on mine, his lips pressing together in a weak attempt to hide his grimace. And I knew in that short answer I’d already given myself away.

I turned when he released me but didn’t make it a step when he said, “Maxon.”

Maxon’s hand twisted in my hair and pulled until all I could do was stare above me.

My knees shook, and belly swirled with white-hot heat.

“Rebel,” he whispered in my ear, a plea and a question.

A ragged breath ripped from my chest, mixing with my whimper. “More . . . Oh God, more.”

Eight months and twenty-seven days.

I wasn’t counting.

I glanced over my shoulder and shrugged. “Why would I care?”

Lily’s smile was soft and understanding from where she stood in Dare’s arms. I knew he must’ve told her the entire story when he found out Henley was coming to town, and I hated him for it.

It wasn’t his story to tell.

I stilled when screams and yells started pouring through The Jack, crying out for Henley and its members.

Each time I heard his name called out over the rest, it was like a shock to my system and knife to my heart. Pride surged through me just as heavily as my bitterness, leaving electricity dancing along my skin and a sick feeling in my veins.

Don’t look. Don’t look, Libby.

And then he began, the bass leading them off and sending a rush to my core. Each deep chord he plucked worked through me the way his fingers had so many times before.

I reached out to steady myself on the back bar and hesitantly turned my head, keeping my eyes downcast until I could no longer stand it.

And there he was. Maxon James. Eyes locked on where I stood. Fury and possession streaked across his devastatingly handsome face, making my knees weak.

The rock star who frequented my dreams and haunted my sheets.

The boy who vowed to be my forever.

The man who shattered my world.

I hated him.

I gritted my teeth when emotions threatened to overwhelm me and lifted my hand in the air, flipping him off. Not waiting to see if he reacted, I turned and threw myself into making drinks for the next hour.

Refusing to look back at the stage.

“Libby, I love you.”

Acting like I couldn’t hear his voice mixing with the others.

“Your heartbeat will always be my favorite song.”

Pretending not to know every aching word by heart.

“Every lyric I write, I write for you.”

Accepting goodbye was already here.

“It’s gonna be you and me forever.”