Page 103 of Trusting You

“We’ll talk to him, but not tonight,” Locke says. “He’s not going to want to see anyone, anyway.”

“In true tortured artist fashion, you could be right,” Ben agrees.

Our attention is drawn to swirling red and blue lights and the slamming of car doors.

“We gotta get out of here,” Ben says. “I can’t make the news on this.”

“No? This is my kinda shit.” Ash grins. “You guys go. I’ll be the face of this crisis.”

“Oh, yeah,” Locke says. “They’ll love to post your mug while assuring the public they’re safe.”

“Get lost, all of you,” Ash says. “Before your manly, athletic frames draw the media too close.”

Ben smacks Asher in the middle of his back. “Don’t be jealous.”

I’m both warmed and stunned by how easily they go into their camaraderie, despite almost experiencing if not serious injury, then death. But that’s bro code for you. Jokes instead of tears.

“Let’s go home,” Locke says, close to my ear, and I lean into his warmth. I’m shivering, and he notices. He undoes his button-down to scoop across my shoulders.

“Fuck, Locke, what’d I just say? No press!” Ben says.

Locke is wearing nothing underneath the button down. His sculpted chest is now in full view of everyone, and a few teary-eyed girls dry their cheeks as they notice.

The flare of jealousy in my belly is unexpected, but my curving my arm into his is fully planned. “Lead the way,” I say.

We say our good-byes to Asher and Ben and start walking. Instead of filling the silence, Locke allows it to stay, and I’m comforted by the ease in which we stroll together as if we don’t have devastation and panic as our backdrop.

And maybe we don’t, because Locke is alive and unhurt, so are his friends, and so am I. We’re lucky. I know that.

“So, Easton had no idea the kind of crowd he’d draw? The amount of people?” I finally ask.

“It’s hard to say,” Locke responds. “He’s no idiot. East knows he’s becoming successful. I guess the urge to go back to his roots was too strong. He figured playing in the bar he started out in would be harmless. Something must’ve leaked.”

“The scope of social media.” I nod sagely, repeating Pierce’s words. “It has more effect than we can fathom. Maybe Easton needs a QR code.”

“That must be it,” Locke says, then casually drapes an arm over my shoulders. “Though fuck if I know what a QR code is.”

Locke’s bare chest is so close that if I tip my chin mere millimeters, I can lick it. And I want to. Oh, how I want to.

“I’m proud of you tonight,” I say instead. And look straight ahead.

He snorts. “For what? I lost you, you fought your way out yourself.”

“No, before that. At the bar. When you only ordered seltzer.”

“Tonic, actually.” He gives my shoulder a squeeze. “And my promise to you is true. I’m not going to do anything to screw up my chances with my daughter.”

My daughter. Was this the first time he said it out loud? I glance up at him to be sure and find he’s already staring at me.

Our pace slows and then stops. He curves in front of me and cups my jaw, tipping my head up farther, and I don’t fight it.

“I want to kiss you,” he murmurs while staring at my mouth. His thumb comes across and catches on my lower lip. Then, pure blue locks onto my gaze. “Can I?”

“You shouldn’t,” I whisper. “We shouldn’t.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t.”

I swallow. But I can’t look away. Can’t withdraw. He leans in, and I don’t stop him. Locke is so close, I can count his lashes, but I don’t push him away.