Finding Forever (Found in Oblivion Book 7) Read online

  “Which she are you talking about?” Lauren hopped down once the piano came to a stop and slung her arms around West’s neck.

  “Hmm, not sure. Probably you. Though look at her curves…” West ran a hand along the side of the piano and Lo smacked him, causing everyone to laugh.

  Almost immediately, the laughter cut off and more than one person glanced around as if expecting Jules would pop out. She wouldn’t admonish them for laughing or enjoying themselves, but the guilt was insidious. Her life had changed irrevocably the last time they’d been onstage. She’d changed. And no matter how she tried to act the same, she wasn’t.

  She didn’t even have to be there to remind the rest of them of her presence.

  And Randy’s.

  Always Randy, who wasn’t with them anymore to call out directions to his lighting crew or smile at Jules as if she was the sun in his own personal universe.

  But they remembered.

  They all wandered over to the equipment rack to take their instruments or stepped aside as Mal’s giant drum kit and then West’s piano were pushed through the heavy curtain to the stage. The hum outside was growing louder. Cheers were beginning to erupt, and the pounding of feet was a steady thrum.

  Elle grabbed the turquoise Les Paul that was a beloved hand-me-down from her brother, then sought Mal’s gaze. Needing it to steady herself. Their eyes locked and he gave her his version of a smile, which to anyone else would look as if he was on the verge of a snarl. But she knew his expressions and his moods now and just that little twist of his lips was enough.

  Her gaze drifted past him to her brother, coming through a door in the back with a scowl on his face not altogether different from Mal’s. Nicky’s dark blond hair was in a chaotic mass of spikes and he wore a black T-shirt and dark jeans that looked like they were one fray away from indecency. Didn’t matter. He was there.

  Letting out a soft squeal, Elle looped the guitar over her back and jogged forward to collide with her twin. Upon seeing her, his grumpy expression vanished, his amber eyes taking on the glow of pride.

  “There you are.” He pulled her into a hard hug.

  “I’m here. You’re here.” She curled into him for an extra moment, inhaling his reassuring scents of soap and, inexplicably, bubble gum. She sniffed at his hair. “Why do you smell like grape gum?”

  “One guess.” He rolled his eyes and eased back. “Your niece decided it was a good time to style Daddy’s hair for his show. She just decided to use gum instead of, oh, gel.”

  Elle laughed. “I don’t even have to ask which twin that might be.”

  Her brother had twin girls. Twins all over the dang place in their family.

  She kept waiting for Mal to decide he wasn’t marrying into it due to her possible twin-producing genes, but so far, he hadn’t backed out. He even still occasionally asked her if she was going to stop fucking around and settle on the details so they could finally “get the damn deed done.”

  Yes, that was her romantic guy. She wouldn’t trade him for anyone.

  “Nope, you do not. Charlotte, reporting for duty.” Nicky shook his head and tapped his fingers on the guitar she slung around her front again. “Bringing out the sentimental favorite, huh?”

  “Yeah.” She stroked the neck of the closest thing she had to a baby. “Seems fitting since you helped me to learn to play again on her.”

  Both times. First, a few years ago, when her brother had encouraged her to play again when she was trying to kick her addictions. Plural. Then again, over these past nearly six months since the incident, when she’d had to go through physical therapy and get back her strength and muscle memory. It was all there, waiting under the pain and nerve damage, but it hadn’t been easy bringing it back.

  Nor had it been easy to recall what it was like when playing guitar had only meant joy for her, not pain.

  “Nah, you remembered. Just needed a little help getting back to where you were.” He met her gaze head-on. “How do you feel? Any soreness or stiffness?”

  “No. I’m good. So far.” She gave him a tremulous smile. Like with Mal, she could let her guard down with her brother where she might try harder to shore it up with her friends. “Ask me in an hour.”

  Tonight’s set would be an abbreviated one, thank God. They were all getting their legs under them and playing to the hometown crowd at a venue that had special meaning for her brother’s band, Oblivion.

  They needed all the gimmes they could get this evening, that was for damn sure.

  “I will. When I’m standing beside you for that goddamn encore.” Nick flexed his fingers. “Why’d I agree to do that again?”

  “Because you love me. And because you’ve rehearsed enough with Warning Sign now that it doesn’t freak you out anymore. They aren’t like a new band to you any longer.” She kissed his cheek.

  “Oh, they aren’t, are they? Says you. Besides, haven’t practiced with them in your place all that much as a whole since the slate was cleared after—” He broke off and jerked his chin over his shoulder. “Just mostly sit in with you and the brute.”

  Nicky had a collection of names for Mal and they usually involved his demeanor or his physical size. He was a big dude, there was no denying it.

  Came in handy during some intimate acts. The way he could pick her up and flip her around…whew.

  “Yeah, well, focus on the two of us and you’ll be good.” She patted her brother’s shoulder as the audience started to yell.

  Queen Molly swept past with her colorful scarves trailing behind her and her equally large boyfriend, Luc, Warning Sign’s co-lead singer, at her side. She always greeted the crowd first, and then usually, West hammed it up or did some outrageous stunt to get the crowd fired up.

  Or that was how it used to be anyway.

  “Knock ‘em dead out there. But don’t plan on smokin’ my ass during the encore, because I’m on to your tricks, Crandall.” Nicky gave her another hard hug before melting into the shadows as the rest of her bandmates came forward, led by Lila.

  “Hold up, Molly and Luc. Think you forgot a vital pre-show ritual.” Lila lifted her eyebrows.

  Without prompting, the band jogged over and everyone raised their fists into the middle of the huddle. Even Mal, who was hit or miss about such acts of group bonding. Of course, he took the opportunity to tweak Elle’s pinky, making her grin instead of give in to the tears that were burning the backs of her eyes.

  “Jules isn’t here,” Molly said quietly.

  “Yes, she is. She’s with us.” Ryan pulled the battered Fender bass guitar that Jules usually cradled like a lover into the center of the circle. Just the sight of Jules’s colorful mosaic print strap with the big bejeweled J made the tears Elle was fighting slip free.

  But just one. The rest she forced back as she leaned forward to grip the neck of the bass with the rest of her bandmates. Their hands climbed over each other, fingers tangling. Lila laid hers on top.

  “This is for you, Randy.” Though Lila’s voice was clear and strong, her big blue eyes were as wet as Elle’s. “Go get ‘em, Warning Sign.”

  They let out their typical shouts and scattered to take their places. Elle touched her fingers to her guitar, sending up a quick prayer for the one of their own who wasn’t there to help make sure the show was running smoothly. Randy had been a perfectionist in the extreme and never failed to check and recheck every detail about the lighting for their shows.

  He was also an amazing guy who loved Jules and Tristan and wasn’t shy about letting the world know it. He would’ve made the very best father.

  Another tear splashed on Elle’s guitar and she laughed softly at herself, shaking her head. So much for just one tear.

  The curtain came up and Molly and Luc sauntered out into the center of chaos, leading the way with their arms raised as the others followed and took their spots. More equipment was wheeled out and the rug on the stage was swapped out at the last second, but the crowd was cheering too loudly to pay attention
to the last minute stage adjustments.

  Blue Rhino wasn’t a huge venue. Yet the audience was making their appreciation for the band known.

  Pink and blue lights bounced over the stage, landing on each of them in turn before skipping away. Elle slid her guitar along the groove in her shoulder where it notched just right as Michael took his place beside her. She smiled at him, letting the memories—the good ones—and the familiarity swamp her.

  This was where she was meant to be.

  She could do it.

  West started to play the telltale notes of their hit “Exile”, and Michael followed him, charging into the song with no hesitation. Then came Ryan’s reverberating bass and Mal’s crashing drums, each different instrument combining into the perfect backdrop for Molly and Luc’s voices. Molly’s soared like an angel, and Luc’s deeper rasp complemented her so well.

  After a few miscues that Michael swiftly and easily covered, Elle found her own pathway into the song. Her fingers tripped over the strings as she bent her head and tried to breathe as the muscle memory took over.

  Warning Sign was back.

  And so was she.

  Two

  His playing was shit.

  Probably no one could tell. At least Mal hoped they couldn’t. One of the benefits of having approximately twenty-five people in their fucking band was that if one person faltered, there was another person to cover. Or three.

  Only problem was the drums were a kind of singular instrument. They paired well with the bass, percussion and all, but if he couldn’t keep time, eventually everyone else would start to suffer.

  Especially since he might be an A-1 dick—and he rather liked that assessment—but he didn’t screw up on stage. Ever. Yet tonight, he couldn’t keep the beat worth crap. He’d been about fifteen seconds behind for the first half of the set, and no matter how much he fought to ignore what was going on up front, it was useless.

  He couldn’t keep from watching Ricki. Not just as her lover. Her fiancé. But as if he was a freaking music teacher sent to critique her.

  Not because he gave a fuck what notes she missed. He knew she’d criticize herself over and over for any perceived issues and he wanted to be ready with the facts. Sugar-coating wasn’t his deal. Would never be, even when it came to the woman he loved more than his own goddamn life.

  She could handle coming back. She was ready. If he wasn’t sure she was, he would have kept her off that frigging stage. Bodily if need be.

  Probably would’ve been necessary. She listened with half an ear at best. Stubborn to a fault, she was.

  As he was. Particularly when it came to her.

  The longer the set went on, the smoother Ricki became. Her shoulders loosened and her stance became more natural. She was going to ache like a bitch tonight from holding herself so rigid for the first five songs. But she finally got more into it, even adding some of the flourishes he’d always admired back when he watched her as just the asshole bandmate she couldn’t stand.

  She didn’t know that. Never would either if he had his way. His man card had already been revoked months ago, and not even because his previous edict not to eat pussy had turned into making her his nightly snack.

  His favorite.

  Nah, he’d wandered into tampon territory the time he’d caught himself arguing with her over mint or puce bridesmaid dresses. Puce, for fuck’s sake. He hadn’t even been sure what color that actually was, just that he didn’t want no damn candy shop colors in his wedding. So puce won.

  Wasn’t even that important really. If she’d been cool with eloping in some funky chapel in Vegas, he would’ve been fine with it. Arguing was just their thing.

  And then they fucked it out and all was right with the world, missing man card or not.

  It was when she got quiet like she had been before the show tonight that he worried. He didn’t have the words to make it better. Didn’t know what to ask or if he should back off and give her space. So he did what he knew how to do and tried to let her know he was by her side. No matter what.

  Or in this case, behind her. Backing her up one hundred percent, both on stage and in life.

  The bonus was that right now, she didn’t need his support. She was shining her ass off, just as she was meant to do.

  They had a couple ballads back to back, and the mood grew somber—and not just because of the emotional lovey-dovey songs. It was as if it hit all of them at once that Jules wasn’t there with them, flirting and talking smack and tossing her hair around as she bantered with Michael and Molly. And Randy wasn’t at the lighting board, making sure the sequence to lead off “Cascade” was pink, blue, blue, pink and not the reverse. He’d been that precise.

  Without him, without Jules, there were holes that couldn’t be filled. But fuck it all, they had to rescue this show before it crashed and burned and Lila crawled up their collective asses like a cockroach.

  As soon as “Cascade” ended, Mal flipped one of his sticks at West, who had whipped off his shirt and wrapped it around his head like a towel. His goldilocks shit was growing back in, which was good because there was only one bald dude in Warning Sign, and it damn sure wasn’t Reynolds.

  West spun on his seat and gave Mal the middle finger. “Sweating too hard to hold on to your sticks, Shawcross?”

  Yeah, so much for no one noticing his flubs. Fuckers. All perfectionists, the whole lot of them. Whatever. He had bigger fish.

  He gestured for West to come over to his kit, which he did reluctantly as he tugged the monitor out of his ear. “What are you gonna bitch at me for now? Let me guess, I didn’t come in soon enough on—”

  Mal waved him off. “You gotta do something.”

  West mopped at the sweat running down his temple with the shirt draped over his head. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, one of your stupid antics. Boy in a bubble. Strip down naked. Shave your head.” Mal pointed at him with his remaining stick. “Not that one. Stay in your own lane.”

  West frowned. “But next is a mid-tempo, and that doesn’t really work with crazy shit.”

  “So pull an audible. Something different.”

  “‘Right Now’?”

  Mal nodded and adjusted his own in-ear monitor. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

  They’d practiced the Van Halen classic a couple of times and though it wasn’t quite a wild enough song to suit West’s normal dramatics, it definitely fit with the vibe of the night. They just needed to take it up a notch so the fans weren’t crying in their damn seats.

  Music was supposed to move people, yes, but the show wasn’t meant to depress the hell out of everyone. It was enough that they were all struggling to maintain the balance. Time to rock out and take a moment to appreciate they were alive and together and still able to make music.

  As hard as it was.

  West yanked off the shirt around his head and tossed it on top of his piano. “Queen Molly isn’t going to like it.”

  She was already heading over to them. “What’s going on?”

  West quickly filled her in and before Mal could blink, she called the rest of the band over for the quickest conference ever. The audience swayed back and forth, already talking amongst themselves, wondering what was up.

  Molly nodded to Mal and gave him the thumbs up sign before she looped her arm around Luc’s neck and whispered in his ear. Well, once he bent down from his lofty height for her anyway. She was tall, but Luc was a giant slab of a dude.

  And he was smiling at Molly like a lust-drunk idiot. The same way she was smiling back at him.

  Mal shook his head. Love was fucking tricky business, man. It was capable of making even the iciest of princesses melt.

  Or princes, if he thought of himself that way. Which he so did not.

  Ricki hopped up on the drum kit riser and without warning, planted her mouth on his. He felt every bit of her excitement and nerves and held on for an extra second, then two when she would’ve jerked back.

  “You’re amazing
,” he murmured against her lips, so soft and full against his.

  She grinned and drew her fingertip down his nose. “So are you, but stop watching me so much and focus on your playing. Slipping, Shawcross.”

  With that, she jumped down and practically skipped across the stage to take her spot beside his brother.

  Mal grinned as he grabbed his spare stick since Reynolds hadn’t seen fit to return the one he’d tossed at him. Time to redeem his ass before Ricki got insult material for the rest of the night—and probably the year.

  Maybe for his entire life.

  “All right, we’re changing things up a little. This is one we’ve never played live before,” Luc said to the crowd as Molly took a long drink of water.

  They were all a little rusty tonight, even their songbird.

  “Thinking it fits all too well. Can’t fuck around and miss the moments that matter with the people you love. Don’t ever take them for granted.” Luc drew his hand down Molly’s hair, then skimmed his fingers under her jaw and slid them over her wet lips. To the delight of the crowd, she blatantly licked his fingertips. The crowd hooted and hollered and Luc grinned as he focused on the audience once again. “This is ‘Right Now’ by Van Halen.”

  He stepped back from his microphone and wound up his arm to point at West, whose fingers flew over the keys as Mal built a slow and steady beat. Then Michael’s guitar joined them, soon followed by Ricki’s and Ryan’s bass. Mal opened it up on the drums, hitting the hi-hats to offset West’s methodic playing.

  West was already half off his piano bench, slamming the keys with the passion that he always brought to the table. Never more so than right now.

  They’d all been sleepwalking through the concert, just trying to get their legs back under them. And now they were all having to reach for it to stay on pace.

  The extended opener continued, the music building until over a minute in when Luc’s voice shook even the disinterested, dubious, sort-of fans out of their seats in the back. Molly took over on the second verse, winding around Luc as silkily with her body as she did with her voice, trailing her bright scarves until it was as if she was admonishing Luc and binding him up with his own wants.