a way—a safe way—for you to be the new bassist for OB Hardy, if that’s your dream.”
He gave me a somber nod. “It is.”
“Then that’s what you’ll be,” I said determinedly.
I couldn’t tell my brother no. I didn’t want him resenting me if I opposed him, like what had happened to Storm and apparently Journey too. There was a real chance I would lose Cork if I stood in his way.
“I love you, sis.” His eyes glistened.
Mine did too, but not all was happiness.
“I love you, Cork. So much,” I said fiercely.
My little brother was my everything, all the family I had left. I didn’t want things to change. But if this change made him happy, then I wanted it for him. I would adapt. I’d done it before, and I could do it again.
Cork threw his arms around me and hugged me. I returned his hug, only tighter. Then we resumed walking.
“Surfing would be my first choice,” he said, and I noted his brow creasing.
“Koa told me he thinks you’re good.” I swallowed hard. “Good enough to compete, even after all this time.”
“He told me the same thing. I might have gone for it if he’d approached me a few years ago. I still love the idea of competitive surfing. But I’m older now, and I realize that making a living out of surfing would take most of the joy out of it for me.”
“And playing music full time won’t do that?” I asked, puzzled.
He gave me a curious look. “Does writing poems or potting plants to sell them take the joy out of doing those things for you?”
“No, I guess not,” I said. “Though when I sit on the wall with the finished products and no one buys them, it kinda does.”
“Yeah. If no one buys OB Hardy’s lead single or the follow-up album we’ll eventually need to write, I can see that being a huge bummer.”
“There’s a lot of pressure to succeed when you’re in a group. Plus, Saber’s pretty intense about the band,” I said carefully.
Cork frowned. “I know how he is, how important the band is to him, and the role I’ll be expected to play as a member. I won’t get preferential treatment. I heard what he told you.”
“Saber has a good heart underneath it all,” I said with a sigh, “but he can be an ass when it comes to the band.”
Or with me and others when he doesn’t get his way.
“I see that now.” Cork gave me a narrow-eyed glance. “I’m glad you can see it too.”
I didn’t feel glad. The calm I felt while with Journey, the hope that seemed close enough to touch when he was around, seemed too far away to access in his absence.
Storm
I FUCKING HATED leaving the Deck Bar. I wanted to stay, to watch Lotus and wait for her to finish her shift, then walk her home. But I didn’t have that right, or any other rights when it came to her. For all she knew, we were only a one-time hookup and recent friends. All my interactions with her as Journey were based on a lie, a deception . . . a risky one.
Lying in my bed, I punched my pillow and tucked one arm behind my head. I stared up at the popcorn-textured ceiling, wondering what she was doing upstairs in her apartment. I’d heard moving around, so I knew she was home.
Hopeful, I’d left my front door unlocked. But was there even a chance she would take me up on my invitation to come down?
I didn’t think it was likely. She knew the type of guy I was now, and wasn’t likely to go there a second time. That was good, of course—for her. She deserved better than a casual hookup. She deserved better than this version of me.
But on the off chance that she might come, I’d made arrangements. My apartment was now more like an actual home. I had a bed, a dresser, a nightstand, and a lamp in my bedroom, thanks to Tess. I also had a couch, a couple of easy chairs, and a breakfast table. It was used furniture from the house she’d lived in before her recent divorce. Her ex got to stay in the house. All she’d gotten was the furniture, but she had nowhere to put it since she was only renting a small furnished place, and she said she wanted to start over with new things when the time came.