Off Bass (UnBroken: The Series Book 1)

by KC Enders

  I don’t know who was more disappointed—Nate or me. But this is part of us. Part of what we’re learning to deal with, to navigate.

  Compromise.

  There is not a damn thing about either of our careers that is conducive to a relationship, and working with our ridiculous combined schedules is enough to make a person’s head spin.

  But we’re managing—for the most part. And I wouldn’t change what we have for anything. Not a thing.

  At my cue, I step onto the stage and do what I came here to do. I dance. I perform. I work seamlessly with my team, my company, to give the audience a transformative experience. To take them away from what so many consider flyover country and drop them into the magical world of Sleeping Beauty.

  Applause rises and swells as the ballet comes to a close, the curtain dropping, enclosing the performers in our own little bubble for a moment.

  Joy. Relief. Excitement.

  All of those emotions and more sizzle around us as the reality of the conclusion of the opening performance buzzes through backstage.

  Hugs and cheek kisses, back slaps and twirling spins, ripple through the company as Mr. Raspeau weaves in and out, congratulating each of us in turn. When he’s tucked away on the far side of the stage, we line up for our curtain call.

  When we’re standing side by side—principal dancers in the front, centered between the rest of the troupe—the curtains part, revealing the audience to us, and vice versa.

  Bows and curtsies are met with more applause. My parents push to their feet in the balcony. My dad beaming proudly, my mom swiping at her eyes.

  Movement at the edge of the stage catches my eye. Sun-kissed curls and a sexy smile.

  “He’s here,” I whisper through my smile, not sure anyone can hear me.

  “Who?” Cari asks, gaze darting through the people spread out in front of us. It’s obvious the minute she spots Nate because of the lusty chuckle she pushes out. “Dear Jesus, he is a beautiful man. And you are a lucky bitch.”

  The curtains begin their slow migration toward the center. Nate keeps pace with it the entire way, each step deliberate and measured.

  Every fiber of my body screams to break form and run to him, jump into his arms, and wrap myself around him. And it takes every ounce of my self-control not to do exactly that as the artistic director and ballet master watch me like I’m an errant toddler.

  My muscles scream for release.

  My chest expands in anticipation.

  My heart reaches through the space between us, seeking out its perfect match.

  And when the curtains are finally closed, Nate is standing directly in front of me. I explode into motion, wrapping myself around him, not caring in the least that we have people all around us.

  “You’re here,” I whisper against his lips, framing his beautiful face between my hands.

  Nate’s pale green eyes sparkle as his cheeks lift, pulling a smile from his mouth. “I am.”

  He kisses me softly. In the blink of an eye, soft turns to more, and the muffled glide of dance shoes against the wooden stage fades away with everything else.

  All there is, is Nate.

  With practiced efficiency, like no time has passed, Nate twines his fingers into my sleek hair, tugging gently, pulling until he’s released the little corkscrew curl. He winds it around his finger, coaxing it back to its natural state.

  “How are you here? I thought you had to finish—”

  “I told Kane he had to work with the team, not against it, and get this album done,” he says simply.

  “That’s it? That’s all it took?”

  Nate smiles down at me and laughs. “No. But that doesn’t matter, not right now. I owe you an apology.” At the tilt of my head, he continues, “There was no big press junket. I lied. Eh, I stretched the truth, but I did it for a really good reason.”

  Nate takes a small step back, putting a hint of space between us, and shoves his hand into his pocket.

  “Okay.” I don’t honestly care what or why. I’m just beside myself with excitement that he’s here.

  “So, I had to make some arrangements, get some additional people here. There were a lot of logistics I had to juggle. For this.” He pulls his hand free and takes mine, sliding a sparkling platinum band onto my ring finger. “Never again, Alex. Never again will something trivial come between us. We’ve done our time, paid our dues, and now, we can make the rules. We can have our careers—our stupidly demanding, time-consuming careers that ask things of us, demand them from us—and still be completely committed to each other. There is no way I’m letting anything come between us again. No more bullshit, no more what-ifs. Sweet thing, I am here for you, by your side.”

  “Your tour schedule, it’s—”

  “Adjustable. All of it. Everything is adjustable. There are more important things in life, and you’re it. You’re what’s important to me. Your happiness, your success. You.”

  My heart is in my throat, threatening to stutter to a stop or maybe thunder from my chest—I honestly don’t know.

  The other dancers filter away, leaving Nate and me alone in a sea of general commotion.

  I look at the diamond sparkling on my hand and lift my gaze to meet Nate’s.

  “I don’t want to live without you. We can do a big wedding, or we can go to the courthouse as soon as you have time. How we do it is completely up to you, but please say yes. Please say you’ll marry me.” He sinks down to his knees in front of me. Both knees. “I’m okay with begging you, Alex. I will worship you every fucking day, just say—”

  “Yes.”

  Nate releases my hands and wraps his arms around my legs, pressing his face into my stomach, my costume crushed between us. “Thank Jesus,” he says quietly before abruptly standing, lifting me with him. “She said yes!” he yells, spinning me around and around in the center of the stage.

  There’s muted applause from beyond the curtains and then the shuffling of props and shifting of bodies.

  “When?” I’d marry him tonight if we could. “My parents are here. My sister and Charlie, even Mademoiselle. How quickly can you get your parents here? The guys? Or should we just sneak off to the courthouse tomorrow?”

  Nate sets me on the floor and nods toward the small gathering of familiar faces. His parents and grandma are standing between Ian and Gavin. Gracyn and Sasha are right there as well.

  “I flew them in,” he says. “Just in case.”

  Everyone important to us is here, standing on the side of the stage with wide smiles and hearts in their eyes.

  “Then, let’s do it.”

  EPILOGUE

  SUBMERSED

  IAN

  My phone vibrates for what has got to be the millionth time as the velvet curtains open, revealing all the ballerinas and ballet dudes.

  There’s no getting away from it. No avoiding this mess. No fucking escape. And I swear to Christ, it’s only going to get worse.

  I didn’t think that was possible after the stalking—she’s been fucking stalking me for months. There’s no other way to put it that even comes close to describing this shit.

  Break my own rule on handling groupies, and here we are.

  The vibrations stop and then start up again, like it did for at least the last half of the show.

  It was so distracting that I missed most of the dancing—couldn’t focus on Alex and how far she’d come.

  More than once, Nate hit me with a side-eye that screamed loud and clear to put a lid on my shit. I wish. The last thing I want to do is pick up where Kane left off with being the designated pain in the ass.

  I step out into the hall and slide my thumb across the screen to accept the call. “What?”

  Am I being a dick? Yes. Yes, I am. The situation calls for it, one hundred percent.

  “We need to talk.”

  Jesus, I have tried everything to shake this chick, and nothing has worked. Nothing.

  “I’ll be back in New York on Thursday. Meet me at B
onne Chatte et Patisserie at …” I think for a minute about timing. My flight arrival, getting into the city, and dumping my bag in my apartment. The walk to the coffee shop. “At one. I won’t wait.”

  “You won’t need to,” is the only response I get before the call disconnects.

  Fucking shitshow of a mess.

  Ooh… Ian! How I love that boy!

  Don’t miss out on updates on him, his texting mess,

  and the only girl who sees him for who he really is.

  Sign up for my newsletter to get the inside scoop!

  I look forward to reading your reviews of Off Bass.

  More Books by KC Enders

  Beekman Hills Series

  Troubles

  Twist

  Tunes

  Tombstones

  Stand Alone Title

  Sweet on You

  Salvation Society Title

  Broken

  The UnBroken Series

  Beat Down

  Out Loud

  Playlist

  Music is a huge part of this series, so the playlist is huge!

  You can find it on Spotify, but here are the important songs of note:

  Patience by Cory Wells

  All On My Mind by Anderson East

  Passing Ships by Throw The Fight

  What If I Was Nothing by All That Remains

  Porn Star Dancing by My Darkest Days

  Drunk Enough by Angles Fall

  Weight Of The World by Self Deception

  Fuckin’ Perfect by Self Deception

  Here with You by Sick Puppies

  Center Stage by Poets Of The Fall

  Still In Love by Nothing More

  Second Chance by Shinedown

  And the best sexy song ever …

  Sail by AWOLNATION

  Acknowledgments

  Oh, where to begin …

  Thank you to my dear sweet husband who has been behind me on writing and pursuing this thing in a way that I struggle to put into words. Ironic, I know. I am a lucky girl because I’m married to my best friend.

  But let’s be honest. The huge Thank Yous go to:

  Dee Hays for patting my head, kicking my butt, making me laugh, and sending the best encouragement my way. And most importantly, hooking me up with cover model Cole Monahan. Bless his heart, in our emails back and forth he mentioned me being a famous author! After I stopped laughing and scraped myself up off the floor, I corrected him. Maybe one day. Once again, this couldn’t have happened without you.

  Jane Ashley Converse for keeping me a little bit sane (there’s only so much she could do!) She seems to schedule cover-model photo shoots and allows me to go with her and “help” exactly when I need to get away and clear my head. While the image for Nate is not one that J. Ashley took, she captured Ian perfectly…as well as Kane fucking Newton. Seriously, sign up for my newsletter so you don’t miss out!

  Kata Cuic for pushing me, challenging me, and kicking my butt even more. (spoiler alert: This took a lot of butt kicking.)

  Jennifer Rebecca for saying “I’m proud of you” when I finally finished this thing. Those simple words tumbled around in my head for days. I struggled to make sense of what the big deal was. So, I asked. She pointed out all the obstacles I faced, all the things that made writing this book more difficult than the others: the lockdowns, living through renovations, the things happening outside my door. Fear. A wedding. A move. Lost confidence. It was a lot, but I was in the trenches and missed the forest because all the trees were in my way.

  Alyssa Garcia, because did you see this cover? Did you look??? Holy cats! She brought Nate to life for me and is, all around, utterly amazing!

  Stacy Garcia for teasers and graphics and quotes, oh my!! I swear, every time I see one, I melt a little.

  Emma Hart for being Emma Hart and making me laugh. And feel old—she’s good at that.

  Readers and the members of my FB group for bearing with me, and to the new readers who have taken a chance on me here. I appreciate the hell out of you!

  About the Author

  Karin is a New York Girl living in a Midwest world.

  A connoisseur of great words, fine bourbon, and strong coffee, she’s married to the love of her life and is mother to two grown men that she is proud to say can cook and clean up after themselves, and always open doors for the ladies thanks to the Rules of Being a Gentleman (you’re welcome, world).

  Her one major vice is rescuing and adopting big dogs.

  Tons of personality, not so good on manners.

  She loves talking books, hearing from readers, and hosting virtual Happy Hours in her reading group.

  www.kcenderswrites.com