Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
* * *
Shane loved to sing. Loved being on stage, loved making people dance and tap their feet, and loved making them feel things, like Brandt said. But there was a new sort of specialness about singing to Brandt and Jewel, knowing he was making Brandt specifically feel something. There was a power there, but also a connection, one he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before.
“This next one is going out to a special little girl.” Knowing Brandt was likely leaving soon, he’d changed up the song order. Tim and the group liked this sappy classic ballad about the passage of time, but Shane had never much seen the appeal until Jewel. She changed every day, more awake and alert now than a few weeks ago, squirming around more, not quite full rolls, but closer and closer. Like her gassy grins that had become real smiles, genuine laughs undoubtedly coming soon along with other milestones.
It was weird, cheering Jewel on but also wanting time to freeze so he could memorize exactly how she was in this moment. He put all those conflicting feels into the song, finding Brandt and the baby in the crowd and letting everything else fall away. Brandt was standing now, close to the building, swaying a little with Jewel still in the sling. In a minute, he’d slip away, but right then, Shane held close to his presence.
Not unlike how he was treating Brandt in his life in general. Knowing it couldn’t last, but soaking up all the good memories in the meantime. Guarding his heart but knowing it was likely a battle he’d already lost. Hell, even tonight, seeing Brandt juggling Jewel in the sling and his food all alone, another chunk of his heart had melted away.
Even after Brandt left, he kept harnessing his emotions to power through the set. The way Brandt made him feel. The tenderness Jewel inspired. The push-pull of a life spent largely on the road. All of it. The music might be classic covers, but he made each his own.
“Last one for y’all for the night.” Tim stepped forward again, waving at the crowd, which had thinned somewhat from the dinner rush to couples with drinks and desserts. “I want to see y’all shaking it on the dance floor. And make sure Shane hears how much you wanna see him next weekend.”
That got a hearty round of applause. Tim probably did it to help his case for Shane to come back, but it still felt damn nice, being appreciated. His shoulders rose, right along with his voice, the audience’s approval giving him a fresh burst of energy that lasted until they were done and packing up.
“Wow.” The drummer, a thirty-something cowgirl named Elaine who trained horses during the week, whistled low as she counted out the take for them to split. “Double the tip jar. Props to your voice.”
“Eh.” Shane shrugged, more comfortable with praise when it came on the stage than one-on-one like this. “It was all of us. We really jammed.”
“Damn right we did.” Tim slapped him on the back.
“Are we gonna see your face again next weekend?” Elaine asked.
Shane glanced at Tim, who nodded. Shane wasn’t about to turn down another gig, so he nodded along with him. “Looks like it.”
“Good.” Tim handed out the cash as they all ate a hurried post-show dinner before heading out. “Let’s get you home to that baby.”
More like home to Brandt, but Shane wasn’t sharing that with the group. Instead he kept his anticipation private, let it build over the miles back to Brandt’s place, let the quiet thrum of arousal he’d had all evening turn into a deeper need until he was bounding up the steps to the house, letting himself in quietly in case Brandt was asleep, but hoping like heck he was awake.
And he was, all freshly showered with damp hair and nothing but sweats on, kicked back on the couch with a magazine. “You made it back.”
“I did.” Shane set down his guitar and other belongings and headed over to Brandt. “I figured you might have given up on me, headed to bed.”
“Oh, I’m heading to bed.” Brandt unfolded himself from the couch so that he stood right in front of Shane. He hooked a finger in Shane’s belt loop, hauled him closer, like Shane needed the enticement. “Soon.”
“Good.” Shane breathed deep, letting Brandt’s shampoo and soap fill his senses, more of that delicious anticipation. He was about to go in for a kiss when the magazine fluttered to the floor. “What were you reading?”
“Smoke jumper journal. There’s an article about a buddy I know from California in there. Saved his whole crew in one of those fires last year near the bay area. His wife sent me a copy.”
“Cool.” Shane’s pulse sped up at the reminder of how dangerous Brandt’s job was, how slim the line between hero and cautionary tale.