The football guys headed farther down the road as Gunn and Braden got into the car. We were alone now, but we still had an audience.

She wouldn’t look at me anymore. I wanted to turn those dark eyes to me. I wanted to say something, but I had no idea what. I ended up with, “You’re still really good.”

Her head lifted, and I saw it. There was so much there. Fear, caution, excitement, warmth, and another expression I couldn’t place. No, I did. She was still haunted.

“Thanks.”

She was mine.

No. She wasn’t.

She had gone to him that night.

Ah, fucking hell.

“We should probably talk.”

Her eyes opened at my tone, which was rough, and panic flared across her face for a moment. “Oh. Okay.”

‘The Talk’ never happened.

Over the last week, my new place had become the hangout for everyone. Bri came a few times, but neither of us made the first move. Tonight was The Feast, and I figured it was time. There’d be a party afterward. Lots of booze. Lots of music. Lots of loose tongues going around. I had a feeling this conversation with Brielle was going to be like taking a shot of acid while doing acid.

Gunn picked up everyone. The Feast was located farther back in the park than other years. As we wound our way through the woods and down the hill to the small clearing where a stage was set up, I could hear Bri’s band already playing. It was the same thing as the house party. The singer was off a beat.

When we stepped out into the clearing, someone called out my name, “Skeeter! Over here.”

Dustin Glass waved a flashlight in the air, making air traffic signals with it, as if we were a plane coming in for a landing. “Right here, guys.” He lit up four empty lawn chairs set up with the rest of his group. As we got closer, I recognized Paul and some of the guys from Shifter, who held up a hand in greeting, and some chick…Ava?...came over to sit in Braden’s lap.

I asked as I sat down, “You still get invited to this stuff, Glass?”

“Yeah,” Braden added. “You quit being our roadie after six months.”

“You know me, guys. I’ve got my fingers in a little bit of everything.” He spread his arms out. “Behold the gloriousness of yours truly. And, Braden, I had to. My folks gave me my trust fund back, and my dad worked his magic. He got me back into Harvard. Living the life and touring with you superstar a-holes was fun, but real life came knocking.” He winked at me as he skimmed his hand over a girl’s ass in front of him. “But if you ever need another worker for a summer tour, Mr. Glass is signed up and ready for duty. Getting these benefits,” he squeezed her butt cheeks, “on a daily basis is like the first circle of heaven. Or, at least, I hope it will be, if you know what I mean.” As he finished, he swatted the girl with a resounding slap.

She laughed and swung her gaze to me. She licked her lips and tugged the front of her shirt down, just far enough so I could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. My gaze lingered. Being around Brielle and not being able to touch her had sent me to the first circle of hell. This girl was willing, and she had curves to hold onto, but even as I considered it, she wasn’t the one I wanted.

I mouthed back to her, “No thanks.”

She opened her legs even wider.

I knew this type. She didn’t care. She’d be there whenever, wherever, and however I wanted. It was the same feeling afterward. Those girls left me with nothing, just emptiness. After too many times of feeling that cheap emptiness, the draw for a quick fuck didn’t hold any appeal. It never had, but there’d been a few months in the beginning when that was all I wanted as I tried to chase Brielle out of my system.

Fucking Brielle.

I shifted and tried to readjust myself. Now he was a springboard. Just the thought of her sent him into full action mode.

“That’s the end of Callen, folks,” Wes said into the microphone.

Emerson swore, “We’re not his paying fans. He needs to stop talking to us like we are.”

“The next band up is Easter Midnight.”

No one clapped as they left the stage. A few people called out to Brielle, telling her she did a good job, but that was the only response. The other two members scattered, going to different groups, and Brielle headed toward us. Wes saw where she was going and held back at the stage.

“He’s not welcomed,” Emerson growled. “Braden, if that singer douche comes over here, I’m going to punch him.”

Wes hadn’t heard. He decided to come over anyway.

Braden laughed. “Better get ready, cousin.”

When he was closer, Emerson hollered at him, “Just warning you, if you try to sit with us, I’m going to punch you. No dumbshits allowed.”

He wavered in his walking, and his foot went sideways, making him trip for a second. “What’d you say?”

Brielle caught my gaze.

Everything else melted away. With the weight of her gaze on me, the world centered again. For one moment, just one god forsaken moment, I wished all our problems away. I wanted to be with her. I wanted her in my arms.

I had a snowball’s chance in hell of getting any of that.

“Luke.”

I glanced to the girl sitting on Dustin’s right. It was Candy Lake. She gave me a warm smile and patted the seat in front of her, spreading her legs for me.

I could feel Bri’s gaze on me, but I headed over to Candy and sat down in front of her. Her hands went to my shoulders, and she leaned forward. Her lips brushed my neck as she murmured, “Could you look any better? Rock stardom suits you, Skeet.” She leaned down and gripped my arms, giving me a slight hug before she started massaging there, moving back up to my shoulders. As her hands settled into my deltoids, her legs pressed against me, hugging me from both sides. She was warm and comforting. She was what I needed at that moment.