“Yours or hers?”

  “Dammit, Knox! Why can’t you just let me have this?!”

  “Because you’re my⁠—”

  I close my fucking mouth.

  Harmony’s eyes ice over. “What?”

  “Nothing,” I say.

  “No, say it,” she says, daring me. “I want you to.”

  I don’t.

  I can’t.

  Not again.

  “I’m not going through this with you again,” she says when I say nothing. “This performance with Harvey is happening, whether you like it or not.”

  I step back. “Fine. Whatever. Play your stupid fucking song. I don’t care.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine!”

  I bolt for the exit.

  “Knox.”

  “What?” I turn back, part of me actually wanting to stay and fight some more.

  Harmony points out the tinted windows on her left. I look, spotting the group of paparazzi lingering close to the hotel entrance, their cameras locked and loaded in our direction.

  “Fuck.” I groan. “All right. Come on.”

  Harmony walks over. She stops in front of me, her fearless eyes on mine as she reaches out and adjusts the collar on my jacket.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “You look like you rolled out of bed this morning and stepped onto a bus,” she answers.

  “I did roll out of bed this morning and step onto a bus.”

  “Hm. That would explain it, then.” She looks me up and down as if our fight never happened. Business is business. “All right. Looks good.”

  Her eyes meet mine. She pauses.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” she says, stepping back. “Let’s head inside.”

  I offer my hand. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.

  Harmony looks at it, her stone face shifting a little before she finally takes it. With our fingers entwined, we step off the bus.

  Outside the door, Jonah stands by with his arms crossed. He gives me a look that says yes, he just heard all of that. And yes, we’re going to talk about it later.

  We pass him into a cacophony of rising voices and camera shutters.

  “There they are!”

  “Knox! Knox! Over here!”

  “Harmony! Show us a smile!”

  “Are you in love?”

  “Are you really back together?”

  “Harmony, are you pregnant?”

  I laugh. I can’t help it.

  Our lives are ridiculous.

  One glance at her and I see that she’s grinning, too.

  “Hey, Knox! Give her a kiss!”

  Mere feet away from freedom, I stall in front of the entrance doors. Harmony takes a step forward, her arm growing taut when I don’t let go. She stops and looks back curiously, but she heard the man.

  Better give the vultures what they want.

  I give her arm a gentle yank, pulling her toward me. Harmony gasps in surprise, but I’m not sure if she’s faking or not. I grip her waist possessively, pull her close, and kiss her as if it’s as common and natural as breathing.

  Harmony doesn’t pull away. She curls her arms around my neck and we linger just long enough for them to snap the perfect picture.

  Knox and Harmony.

  Together again.

  They don’t follow us inside. Plaza security would never allow them through the doors, anyway. Once we’re clear, Harmony wiggles out of my embrace.

  I take it personally. But I don’t blame her, either.

  Chrissy and Jordan intercept us as we reach the front desk and pass us our room keys.

  “Sixteenth floor,” I read aloud.

  I look around, and I remember where we are.

  Botsford Plaza San Francisco.

  Straight ahead is the ballroom where I first heard her sing.

  Around the corner is the bar where we drank virgin daiquiris and shared our deepest wounds.

  And upstairs, on the sixteenth floor...

  Fuck.

  “I’m going to go lie down for a bit,” Harmony tells Chrissy. “Unless you need me for something?”

  “Nope,” Chrissy says. “Go on up. I’ll come get you for Jonny Red.”

  Harmony walks off toward the elevators without a word or a glance back.

  Nope. Don’t blame her one bit.

  As I watch her go, Jonah suddenly leans into my view, his eyes nice and sharp.

  “Bar,” he says. “Now.”

  I blink. “It’s not even noon, Jo.”

  “Now.”

  He marches off across the lobby and I follow him with a sigh.

  At this hour, the bar is mostly deserted save for a few ladies loudly enjoying some brunch-time mimosas. Jonah charges past them, angling for a table near the back, thankfully on the opposite side from the table Harmony and I shared once upon a time.

  As he sits down, he yanks his beanie off and runs a hand through his thick hair. “You know,” he says, “when you apologize to a woman, the word sorry is supposed to come out of your mouth at least once.”

  I chuckle as I sit in the chair across from him, far too emotionally exhausted for this conversation. “I was supposed to apologize, wasn’t I?”

  “Uh, yeah. You were.”

  “Sorry.”

  Jonah glares at me as another person rounds the table and plops into the seat on my left side. It’s Bronson, his curious eyes bouncing between us, silently wondering why we’re having a secret meeting without him or the girls.

  “Harmony is singing in Harvey’s set this week. He’s learning her single so they can play it together,” I say, not wanting to dwell on any of the other stuff. And I assume they’ll both have opinions about Harvey and Harmony.

  But Bronson just nods. “Cool.”

  “Cool?” I repeat. “Is it cool? Or is it a travesty waiting to happen?”

  He considers it for a moment, then shrugs.

  “Knox, if Harvey is open to sharing his set, then there’s not much you can do about it,” Jonah says.

  “He’s our friend,” I argue. “I think one of us should say something to him before he lights his career on fire.”

  “I don’t think he is, Knox,” Jonah replies, carefully.

  I scoff. “Oh, come on. You don’t actually think Harmonymania is going to be a thing, do you?”

  “I wouldn’t underestimate her. Harmony’s a great singer. She’s young and pretty and she has one of the biggest record labels in the world in her corner. So, yeah. Harmonymania is coming. I don’t blame Harvey one bit if he wants to get in on the ground floor with her.”

  “Okay, but...” I eye them both. “The song blows, right?”

  “Not the point.”

  “But it is! Harmony is an incredible singer. Not just great, Jonah. Incredible.”

  “I know she is.”

  “She’s better than this. And she has another song! Wildfire. I heard her sing it four years ago in that very ballroom across the lobby and I heard her sing it again yesterday morning in the shower. It’s deep and meaningful. It’s Harmony. The real Harmony.”

  “Why were you listening to her sing in the shower?” Jonah asks, his brow furrowed.

  Bronson leans forward an inch.

  “Not the point,” I say. “She’s wasting her talents on this cheap, mass produced crap and I don’t want her to do it.”

  “It’s not your decision, Knox.”

  “Well, it should be! She’s my⁠—”

  I stop myself again, smothering the words before they go too far. Before I say something truly insane.

  Jonah extends a hand across the table and rests it on my forearm. “I get it,” he says. “Believe me, I understand completely.”

  I shake him off. “No, you don’t,” I say. “Marla works behind a desk in an office two floors beneath the earth. You don’t have to worry about thousands of people gawking at her, coveting her. You don’t have to stand there and watch as she sings for them when she should only sing for you!”

  Well. So much for not saying something insane.

  Jonah doesn’t react. He leans ever so slightly forward, his eyes full of sympathy and forgiveness. “You’re right,” he says. “I don’t. And neither do you. Because Harmony isn’t yours anymore.”

  Bronson nods in agreement.

  “She’s always going to be mine, Jo. Will Marla ever not be yours?” I ask him.

  Jonah hesitates.

  “I thought not,” I say when he doesn’t reply. “A man doesn’t choose his muse.” I stand up. “I gotta go. I’ll be down later for Jonny Red.”

  “Knox.”

  I ignore him. I try to ignore mine and Harmony’s table as I pass it, too.

  But I fail. Visions of long ago dance in my mind. Her sad eyes. Her half-filled notebook.

  Her kiss on my lips as she sings for me.

  And only me.

  30

  KNOX

  The ride to Jonny Red’s studio is... chilly.

  Not wanting to waste resources, Jordan and Chrissy decided we’d all take one bus together. There’s plenty of room for everyone on the Criminal Records bus, but as soon as Harmony set foot inside in a pair of casual jeans and an even more casual pink T-shirt, the air noticeably became a few degrees colder.

  We ride through the city in mostly silence. Mostly because Chrissy and Jordan haven’t stopped talking to each other since re-uniting here in San Francisco at the start of this mess — I mean, tour. Addison and Katrina chuckle with hushed whispers on the left side of the bus, passing their phones back and forth as they scroll. Bronson hopped on the bus and sat by them rather than take his usual spot in the back next to me. Can’t say I blame him.

  Jonah and I sit across from each other. We don’t say a word, merely glancing over now and then instead, hoping the other one breaks the silence first.

  The radio station is in the Bay Area, not too far away from Midnite Music. Home of Jonny Red, the man’s face is plastered on it and a few of the surrounding buildings, too.

  Already, I’m sick of looking at his smarmy smirk. His prying eyes. His gotcha demeanor. Katrina warned us. He’s going to ask some tough questions.

  Ask away, asshole.

  I have nothing to hide.

  Well, I do, but it’s the principle.

  “Okay!”

  Jordan hops up at the front of the bus as we park. She casts a wide arc with her arm, making sure she has our undivided attention. “Whatever this is,” she says pointedly, “it’s over now. If we walk in there with this tension, Red’s gonna sniff it out.”

  “Everything is fine, Jordan,” I say.

  Her brow arches, unconvinced. “We can have this out right now,” she says, “or we can swallow it up. Either way, we’re not walking in there without some smiles.”

  I look at Jonah. He looks at me.

  “You’re Criminal Records!” Jordan says, the words full of hype. “You’re the number one band in the nation! You’re on a sold-out tour!” Her glare deepens. “Act like it!”

  Bronson leaps out of his seat. He pounds a massive foot twice on the floor and howls, raising his arms above his head in celebration. “Yeah, motherfuckers!” he shouts. “Number one! Woo-hoo! Let’s ride!”

  We all stare in surprise, the act so rare it’s like watching an endangered species give birth.

  Addison grins. “Hell yeah!” she says, rising and giving Bronson a high five so hard it practically vibrates the air. “Let’s do this thing!”

  Katrina joins in, happily crossing the bus and offering me her hand. “Come on, big brother,” she says. “This is what we do.”

  Fuck. If that’s not enough to thaw the ice, I don’t know what is.

  I take her hand as a laugh builds in my chest. Jonah stands up, too, his smile wide and proud.

  We’re Criminal fucking Records.

  We’ll figure out the other shit later.

  One-by-one, we pile off the bus. I linger last in line and stop next to Harmony. Curious to see what she’ll do, I offer her my hand. I’ve pissed her off enough over the last twenty-four hours.

  Not exactly a new record, but still.

  She smiles prettily, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Then she takes my hand, her fingers stiff. Professional.

  Guess we’ll figure out the other shit later, too.

  We step off the bus together and catch up with the others outside the station. As we head inside, we hear Jonny Red himself over the speakers, a feed constantly playing throughout the large open workspace.

  “You’re listening to K-RED — America’s number one station for pop, rock, and everything that rolls! This is Jonny Red and we have some very special guests in the studio today, folks! Believe me, you don’t want to miss this, so be sure to tune in at the top of the hour! Here’s the latest from The Back Breakers here on K-RED FM!”

  A song begins, and I let it become background noise as I scan the lobby. We’ve been here plenty of times before, but it always feels a little different each time. The main floor is open, with about a dozen desks scattered about. No cubicles. No walls except for the glass soundproof room near the back housing the studio. A line of red signs shine from various spots on the walls: ON AIR.

  Through the glass, I see the man himself at his mic, looking about as cocky as he always does despite having a face for... well, radio.

  A man’s head pokes up from behind the front desk. He grins. “Criminal Records! We’ve been expecting you.”

  Jordan and Chrissy plow ahead, ready to take care of everything. The rest of us hang back together as a few employees peel off their desks to offer us anything we need, while two others head outside with Bronson to unload our gear.

  A young woman beelines for Harmony, her smile bright enough to blind a man. “Harmony!” She charges forward, taking hold of Harmony in an over-friendly hug. “It’s so good to see you again!”

  Harmony releases my hand to awkwardly return the girl’s hug, her confused eyes looking for mine as I stand back out of the way.

  “Oh, thanks,” Harmony says. “Sorry. We’ve met?”

  The girl steps back; her smile stretching on forever. “You might not remember me, but I sure remember you!” She pokes Harmony’s arm. “It’s me! Ashley Cameron.”

  Harmony flinches. It’s small, almost too small for the naked eye, but I catch it. “Oh,” she says, her fake smile returning. “Ashley! Of course! Oh, my god. How are you?”

  “I’m fantastic!” Ashley points around the station. “Been working here for about six months now. Best job in the world. Get to meet all the best musicians — like you!” She pokes Harmony again. I smirk at the hidden annoyance flaring behind Harmony’s irises. “So, this is hard to believe, huh? You’re a pop princess!”

  “Well,” Harmony replies, “I wouldn’t say it’s that hard to believe.”

  “Boom Boom is a huge hit!” Ashley says, almost… surprised. “The requests for it are non-stop. You’re getting as many as...” Her voice trails off as her eyes flit in my direction. “Well, other artists.”

  “That’s amazing,” Harmony says.

  Ashley slinks closer and lowers her voice, but not low enough to keep it from my ears. “And if that wasn’t enough, you conveniently got back together with Knox.”

  Harmony frowns. “Conveniently?”

  “Well, it is a little, isn’t it?” Ashley asks, a chink forming in her hospitable demeanor. “I mean, one day you’re nobody. The next, you’re the stepdaughter of the head of Midnite Music and then... boom. You two are back together just in time for a sold out nationwide tour. Suddenly, everyone is talking about you, you, you.” She inches closer to Harmony’s glare. “I’ve only worked behind the scenes for half a year, but even I know publicity bullshit when I smell it.”

  And I know envy when I hear it.

  I move in, throwing my arm around Harmony’s shoulders. “Hey, there,” I say before this bitch can get another strike in. “Ashley, was it?”

  Ashley grins. “That’s me.”

  “Hi. Could you get us some sparkling water?”

  She blinks. “Well, that’s actually not really my⁠—”

  “Thanks a bunch!” I say dismissively, waving her off with one hand while I guide Harmony closer with my other arm. I plant a loving kiss on her cheek to top it off as I turn us away from Ashley.

  Ashley blanches before stomping off. Doubtful I’ll ever see that water, but I’m not thirsty, anyway.

  “Who was that?” I ask.

  Harmony clears her throat. “Uh, she was... we competed in a pageant together here in San Francisco. Back in the day.”

  A pageant girl. Should have known.

  “Ashley got first place,” she continues, her eyes sadly drawing down to the floor. A deep cut. “And I got fourth.”

  Harmony Max. Fourth place.

  I squeeze Harmony’s shoulder as I whisper in her ear. “Now she’s fetching you water,” I say. “And don’t forget which one of you kept my bed warm that night.”

  She blinks in surprise, peeking up at me through impossibly long lashes, the edges of her lips curling slowly. “She actually was sixteen, you know,” she whispers back.

  “Don’t miss the point.”

  “I don’t.” Harmony smiles. A real one. “Stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  “You know what.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re trying to charm me.”

  I smirk. “Is it working?”

  “No,” she says, looking away.

  “Oh, yeah.” I kiss the side of her head, aware that most eyes in the station are locked on us. I tell myself it’s just for show. But I know it’s instinct, too. The urge to comfort. To protect her from sadness and harm. It’s never really left me. “It’s working.”

  Harmony’s eyes roll softly, but she doesn’t argue.

  I ignore Jonah’s gaze burning a hole in the back of my head.

  “Listen, Harm,” I say. “About last night...”

  She looks up, her little eyes warm and curious.

  “You’re listening to K-RED FM! Jonny Red here in the studio today with the hottest band in rock and roll!”

  I pause, my ears perking at the promise of praise blasting from the speakers.

  “On the road for their sold-out tour, you all begged me to get them in for all the juicy gossip, and I’m happy to confirm they’re here now all the way from their home state of New York!”