Lyric & the Heartbeats

by Kole, Lana

  She crossed her arms to hide the way her hands shook. It was loud outside the bus, the whir of cars zipping by intensified by her anxiety. The driver followed them out, Wilson, a competent man she’d met several times before but otherwise missed completely.

  Which made sense. He drove while she slept, and she played on stage while he rested for the next drive.

  “Good news. I’ve already called it in.”

  Henry narrowed his eyes. “Good news… meaning there’s bad news, yes?”

  Lyric’s stomach turned with nerves, and a warm hand smoothed over her shoulder. She leaned into the touch without thinking, only knowing that she needed to lean on someone for a bit. But the faint scent of marshmallow sweetness washed over her, and her shoulders relaxed a fraction.

  Wilson ran a hand over the back of his head. He was a weathered man, stocky and with a beer belly, but he had a kind twinkle in his eye. For now, the twinkle was absent as stress lines dipped with his furrowed brows. “Yes, bad news. There’s not a truck service for a few hours.”

  “Fuck.” Henry ran both hands through his hair, the tattoos on his arm standing out starkly in the bright sunshine.

  “What are we gonna do?” Lyric asked.

  Henry turned his gaze to her, his brows molded in the form of a glare that eased as soon as he saw the concern on her face.

  “It’ll be okay,” he said, and pulled his phone from his back pocket. “I’ll make it work.”

  That didn’t answer her question, but Lyric fought back the rising worry and let Henry do his thing. He and Wilson stepped away to talk, and soon Henry had the phone to his ear, the other hand motioning wildly as he spoke.

  “You okay?” a deep voice asked. Lyric glanced up to Adra by her side. It was his arm that had slid over her shoulder, and she leaned into his side more.

  “Yeah, just… startled.”

  “It’ll be okay. Once a crew gets out here to replace the tire, we’ll be on our way in no time,” Nohen said and shrugged.

  Lyric slid her phone from her back pocket and tapped the side button to reveal the time. “If the nearest service station is hours away, will we make it to the venue?” Nine hours until show time.

  “Yeah, no problem. Two hours for the crew to get here, maybe an hour—tops—to fix the tire, and three to the venue,” Henry interjected as he returned.

  Lyric rolled her phone over in her hands. “Are you sure that’s enough travel time? What if something else is wrong?”

  Henry waved her off and glanced to his right. The tire in question was shredded.

  “It’s fine. Just a blown tire. I’ve seen it a hundred times. Our other option would be to call ahead for rental vehicles and have them driven out this way, but it’s too much trouble—and money—when the repair guys can be out in a few hours and then we’ll be on our way.”

  Lyric wanted to argue, wanted to get to the venue and reassure herself that they wouldn’t miss the show, but Henry was already glaring at his phone and answering another call.

  A gentle touch on her upper arm pulled her attention to the right. Nohen stared down at her, sympathy in his gaze. “I think Henry’s right, it’s a simple tire fix, but if you’d feel better getting rentals, we can twist his arm.”

  “Yeah, just say the word,” Emerson echoed with a smirk.

  Lyric’s lips curled at their teasing threats, but ultimately shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I trust Henry’s judgment.”

  Now the question was… what did they do while they waited?

  The answer to that question was found in a plastic controller, which controlled her beautifully decorated racing cart as she crossed the finish line.

  “Hah!” she shouted with a grin and held up both hands. “First place. Suck it!”

  Nohen crossed his arms and leaned back against the couch. A glare narrowed his features, but humor brightened them up the longer he stared at her. “Fine, fine. You won that one fair and square. I guess.” He rolled his eyes, and she heard the sarcasm in his words, but a fond smile was curling his coral colored lips. “If fair and square is what you call Emerson coaching you the whole time.”

  “Hey, we didn’t say there couldn’t be teams,” Emerson pointed out and leaned away from her, his arms falling away from her sides.

  So what if he’d leaned over her shoulder to tell her how to win the race? And so what if she’d totally seen Nohen drive off the track a few times, which she’d never ever seen him do before? And did it really matter if Emerson had wrapped his hands around hers to control the cart halfway through?

  It was better than ramming the retaining wall over and over again.

  Mmm, speaking of ramming…

  Lyric unintentionally shifted in her seat, brushing back against Emerson. She froze after she did it, thinking she could pretend it hadn’t happened. But Emerson was too smart for that, or maybe they’d just been so utterly aware of each other’s presence since filing back onto the bus that he couldn’t help but notice.

  “I wanted to play Lyric, not Emerson,” Nohen complained. His gaze flitted back and forth between the two of them, and Lyric cleared her throat before scooting to the edge of the couch and standing.

  “I still played… technically. My hands were on the controller.”

  Nohen rolled his eyes again, his lips twitching. “Throw me one?” he asked as Lyric pulled the fridge open.

  The cold plastic was stark against her skin, warmed from the pressure of Em’s wrapping them around the controller.

  Lyric grabbed a bottle for herself and tossed him the other. Nohen snatched it out of the air effortlessly, his plain tee rising up to bare a stretch of smooth, honey colored flesh above his waistband.

  Her thoughts tripped over themselves, and she paused with her hand wrapped around another bottle. For a split second, her gaze jumped from one to the other, and she tried to remember why the hell she needed two bottles, but then Emerson cleared his throat.

  The plastic crackled as she tossed him one too, then closed the fridge and returned to her seat, cheeks heating.

  Two alphas aren’t enough? You want your lead guitarist too?

  Can you blame me? her inner voice whined as she risked a glance in Nohen’s direction.

  Oblivious, he was swiping his thumb over the joystick on the controller, scrolling through the many games loaded onto the system.

  Her gaze latched onto the way he casually brushed the pad of his thumb over the tiny, smooth silicone knob.

  It was far too easy to imagine the same motion over parts of her body. Her hipbones, her cheek, her nipples.

  Lyric scowled at her thoughts and tried to douse the heat staining her cheeks by tipping the bottle to her mouth and drinking.

  “Thirsty?” Emerson asked softly, the single word escaping on a chuckle.

  Lyric accidentally shoved her right elbow into his side.

  Yes. Accidentally.

  His soft oof brushed against her cheek and she ignored it.

  “Oh, let’s play this one!” Nohen said, excitement lacing his tone.

  Lyric glanced up, the name of a game on the screen she’d never heard of. It looked… complicated.

  “Here, you guys play this round, I’m happy to sit on the sidelines and cheer.”

  Passing the controller to Emerson, Lyric pulled her legs beneath her on the couch and leaned back, content to watch them battle it out. It also gave her a moment to study them uninterrupted. With their sole focus on the game, she was free to stare to her heart’s content.

  First, her gaze leapt to Nohen. His tongue peeked out from his lips, concentrating on the screen, and he was a picture-perfect representation of focus. Instead of hunching over, he was sitting tall, his back straight as he wiggled the controller back and forth, thumbs flying over the buttons.

  Lyric cocked her head to the side. “Nohen, something tells me you’re experienced at gaming.”

  An explosion came from the television, and her studious gaze crawled to the screen, reluctant to leave the
beautiful beta.

  “You could say that,” Nohen drawled in shameless victory.

  Lyric rolled her eyes as Emerson cued up another round with a grumbled, “We’ll see about that.”

  When her observation was left without further explanation, she returned her gaze to Nohen. His dark curls were bunched atop his head, a few coiling over his forehead. The angles of his face were both sharp and soft at the same time, something about his features, his beauty, drawing her to wonder if he had Egyptian roots.

  “I guess you could say I’ve played a few games,” Nohen admitted softly.

  She cocked her head, taking longer than necessary to remember what the conversation was about.

  “Yeah? Did you grow up playing them?”

  “Pretty much,” he answered.

  His vague response made her realize just how little she knew about him, and he garnered her full attention.

  “Where’d you grow up?”

  “Here and there,” he answered reluctantly. “We moved around a lot, so I was never in one place for too long. I grew up everywhere.” He shrugged. “I wish I had a better answer, but there was no cul-de-sac full of childhood friends. Just me.”

  Lyric frowned and uncrossed her legs to stand before the urge to curl up in his lap had registered with her brain. She paused with her palms flat on the couch and adjusted her seat to cover up her mishap. The urge to comfort him settled hard in her chest.

  “That sounds… lonely,” she offered sympathetically.

  “It was sometimes. I played a lot of video games and connected with other players who had too much time on their hands, who used the games to escape their own lives just like I did.”

  “Quit making her feel bad,” Emerson growled. “Tell her you had friends.”

  Nohen glanced over with a small smile. “I did have friends, even though they were spread out all over the world. It wasn’t all bad.”

  An ache eased in Lyric’s heart before she even recognized the hurt. “Oh,” she replied lamely. “Can I ask why you moved so often?”

  “Sure,” he said and shrugged. “Right after…” He tilted the controller left, then right, biting down on his bottom lip. Lyric wanted to crawl onto his lap, frame his face with her hands, and pull the abused flesh free to soothe it with her touch, learn what Nohen tasted like.

  She blinked, clearing the vision from her mind, and shifted on the seat.

  “I kick your ass!” he shouted, and dropped the controller to the couch before pointing at Emerson.

  Emerson grumbled and sat the controller down. “Yeah, yeah, brag about it.”

  “Oh, don’t mind if I do,” Nohen said with a shameless grin.

  “So, as for my—” He turned his attention to her, his mouth open with his next words on the tip of his tongue, when a loud curse came from outside the bus.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Henry’s angry bark made her sit up alarmed.

  She turned in her seat, peeking through the blinds to see him standing on the side of the road, gesturing wildly to a man in coveralls. The man winced and took a step back.

  “Wait,” Nohen murmured, and grabbed her arm as she went past. “Let’s wait. We don’t know who the guys are, and we’re stranded on the side of the road.”

  And you’re still an omega. Still treasured, even sometimes by the wrong people. And there’s an underground organization that would love to have you.

  Lyric nodded, though her lips thinned in annoyance, and let Emerson slide past her.

  “Sorry,” Nohen said, and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “I know it sucks, but if they turned out to be creeps…”

  “I know,” Lyric replied softly. She brushed a hand against his arm. “Thanks. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Nah, Henry’s voice is scary. He’d call someone back from the grave with that tone.”

  Lyric chuckled and sank into her seat on the couch again, resisting the urge to spy on everyone through the blinds.

  Nohen did that for her.

  “It doesn’t look good,” he told her. “Henry looks pissed.”

  Unable to resist, Lyric got on her knees beside Nohen and peeked through the blinds.

  Emerson’s arms were crossed as he stood beside Henry, whose face was red with anger as he argued with the repairman. Lyric couldn’t understand what they were saying since they’d lowered their voices, but just like Nohen had mentioned, Henry did not look happy.

  A sinking feeling swirled in her stomach, and she gripped the back of the couch until her knuckles turned white.

  “We’re gonna miss the show,” she breathed, dread sinking like a lead weight.

  Warmth brushed over her shoulder, and she sank into the comfort of Nohen’s touch.

  “It’ll be okay,” he soothed. “Even if we do miss the show, we’ll be back on the road as soon as we can.”

  Lyric sighed. “I guess.”

  She turned around to sit on the couch the proper way and curled herself up onto the cushions. Nohen sat beside her, close enough that they touched from hip to shoulder. That innocent point of contact was enough to help ease the pressure of the vise around her torso, and she stared blankly across the bus as she awaited the news.

  When Henry finally did return to the bus, his steps were as heavy as the news he had to deliver.

  “Apparently when the tire blew, something else happened, and one of the axels is cracked. That’s got to be repaired before we can get back on the road. We’re too far away to make the show in time, and the appropriate channels have been contacted. I’ve called the rental company. Pack whatever you’ll need for the evening and the morning, and we’ll be on the road by five AM sharp.”

  Lyric had been right. They should have called for rentals as soon as the tire had blown. But pointing that out would add absolutely nothing to the situation, so she nodded silently and left the common area to collect her things.

  As she passed the bunks, Desi peeked her head out. “What happened?”

  Despite everything, Lyric chuckled. “Enjoy nap time? Guess you had a busy weekend.”

  Desi slumped back down into her bunk, rubbing at her face. “Damn right I did. I wore Amber out.”

  “Looks like Amber wore you out, Desi.”

  “Po-tat-o, po-tat-oe,” she teased. “I’ll get to packing.”

  Lyric shook her head and disappeared into her nest as Henry’s and Emerson’s voices rose from the front, Adra’s chiming in. She couldn’t pick out exact words, but their tones were irritated.

  It made her itch, like she needed to go out there and play referee.

  Instead, she packed her bag and prepared for another night away from her nest.

  Oddly, the thought didn’t upset her as much as it probably should have.

  After all, it depended on who she was sharing a bed with.

  Henry felt like shit.

  The headache that had been brewing since the first telltale rumble of the tire blowout slammed full force into his frontal lobe without warning.

  As Lyric headed to the back of the bus to collect her things, Henry ground the heels of his palms into his eyes until the darkness sparked with splotches of color.

  “Well, this sucks,” Nohen commented. “Will the rentals have enough room for our instruments?”

  He nodded.

  Thankfully, the repair company was willing to work overnight on the bus—for some exorbitant fee the label assured him they would cover—but leaving instruments behind wasn’t an option. The risk of theft was too high, and hell, for musicians, even a single night away from their instruments was too much.

  The label wasn’t happy. Not about the bus, not about the show, not with him.

  But hell. How was he supposed to know the axle was a piece of shit? They refurbished a whole bus but didn’t check to reinforce the important parts?

  Shaking his head, he took a seat on the couch and rested his head against the back of the cushion.

  If he’d listened to Lyric earlier, half of their p
roblems wouldn’t be a problem. They’d nearly be at the venue, gearing up for another kickass show.

  But shit happened. He hated to pull Lyric away from her nest for another night, but at this point it couldn’t be helped.

  Henry packed his own bag along with the others, and within the hour, the bus was being reeled onto a tow, and he was cramming their overnight bags into the back of the rental.

  He slid into the front passenger seat and did a mental head count.

  Desi, Nohen, and Lyric shared the middle bench seat, and Adra and Emerson took up the back row. Their guitars and overnight bags were crammed into the back and underneath their seats.

  What a nightmare.

  Henry laid his head back on the seat and let his eyes drift close, trying to fight off the headache. It throbbed persistently behind his eyes, but shutting out the light eased the pain a little.

  Just one night, and then they’d be on the road bright and early and at the venue as soon as possible. I need a drink.

  Henry hoped the little town they’d be staying in had a bar. Surely. In the middle of nowhere? He watched the flatlands pass by. What else did they have to do besides drink?

  Once they dropped the rental guy off at his place of work, Henry GPSed it to the tiny bed and breakfast. The host was sweet and speedy, and he appreciated her efficiency with a tight smile.

  “Here are the keys. Pick your rooms and don’t wander too far. We aren’t on a bus, but the rules still apply.”

  He didn’t purposely glance to Lyric for the last phrase, but she had been the one to break the buddy system before. He knew he was in trouble when she arched a brow at him, challenging.

  After getting chewed out by the label reps, he was tired of being in trouble, and he dismissed everyone with a short, “Just be careful. I’m room B, for whoever ends up as my roommate.”

  Probably Nohen.

  It only made sense that Desi and Lyric would room together, and Adra and Emerson were already fucking, so they’d stick together just for the ease of each other’s company. Which left him and Nohen as the odd ones out.

  He hoped Nohen liked whiskey.