“It’s all right. Just mainly Hurleys. Thanks for getting my back earlier. You and I need to hang out. Are you off tomorrow?”

“I am. You?”

“Yes. So let’s you and me have dinner and go to a movie? There is so much gossip and stuff to share.” Natalie grinned.

“Ha. You got it. Meet you at the house at seven.”

Ezra came out, the ends of his hair still dripping.

Natalie leaned in and whispered, “Wow, that’s determination. To do the sex with you. Do be sure to make mental notes of all the high points.”

“I might need a spiral notebook for that.” Tuesday hugged Natalie quickly. “See you tomorrow.”

Ezra caught up to them. He had a duffel bag in one hand and slid the other arm around Tuesday’s waist. “Nats, always a pleasure to see your pretty face. Beauty, we’re not stopping. I’ll get us to the doors in less than five minutes if you just follow my lead.”

Delighted, Tuesday nodded. “All right then.”

* * *

“SO,” HE BEGAN as they sped east toward Hood River, “I really want to be inside you. I may drive a little fast.”

She laughed because despite his joke, he was totally controlled as they drove. Yes, fast, she’d noticed he liked to drive fast the night before. But not too fast. He was definitely an attention-to-details type of person and she’d seen quite well the night before that he extended that to sex.

“Because all I can think of is you naked and beneath me, we should talk about something else for a while.”

“I think tonight’s show ranks in my top three best concerts ever list.”

“Really? Okay, first tell me the other two. Because I need to know if I should be flattered or insulted.”

“You’re pretty impossible. It’s charming and you have a big dick so I’ll allow it. Pearl Jam, Madison Square Garden. I was twenty-two years old and it was my first time in New York City.”

“Excellent choice. Pearl Jam is one of the best live bands out there.”

“The other is Sigur Rós. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen them live or not, but they’re meant to be heard that way. I saw them in a symphony hall so they had a full orchestra and there were screens behind them. It was a whole experience. Okay, so wait, I need to add Tool to the list. Have you ever seen them live?”

“Not Sigur Rós, though I’ve heard their music before. But yes to Tool. One of the best parts of this gig is having the opportunity to hear so much live music. Well, all right, I’m totally flattered to be in that company. Even better than when you saw us the first time?”

“Yes. Ezra, you guys were so tight. Every single song you played was perfect. The crowd was great. That little riff you did during ‘Revolutionary’? That was clever and Paddy picked it right up and did that thing with his voice and then Damien and Vaughan ended the song with it. Fantastic.”

* * *

THE FOUR OF them had been in what Vaughan sometimes called the Hurley Bubble. The world fell away and it was just brothers playing music and having a good time. On top of that, Ezra was pretty sure he’d never had a more flawless night playing live. He was truly amazed at his brothers, who’d been on the road for months. They might have been tired but it didn’t show in their music.

“Tonight’s show is one people are going to rave about for a long time to come.” Tuesday shrugged.

Pride eased back into his heart.

At one time, Ezra had had a lot of pride. He’d had so much he’d ignored the damage he was doing and called it what he was entitled to. Heroin had enabled him to keep on saying that long after he’d stopped believing it.

So he’d been prideful and he’d been careless and then everything had been ripped away and he’d had to rebuild. Including his pride. He still struggled at times with what was too much or not enough, but at least he was around to struggle and not in the ground because of an OD.

“It felt exceptional, but it’s hard to tell sometimes. You’re too close to really see it. You do usually know if it’s a bad show. Sometimes you’re just off, or someone fucks up over and over and then Paddy flips out or pouts because he’s a goddamn artist perfectionist.”

He burst out laughing. “I realize that sounds like an insult. And it is. Sometimes. Make-it-Perfect Paddy is a hard-ass. He needs to be. He holds it down out there. They look to him to set a direction. Like a team captain.”

“You’re the captain, though.”

He paused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Ezra, you’re the leader of Sweet Hollow Ranch. You’re their foundation. Paddy leads out there on the road. He’s a strong force in the band. His voice is there definitely. But you step out there and they all look to you. Even your manager talks to you like you’re in charge.”

“Paddy is the lead singer of the band. He takes the weight of that out there on the road and he has on his own three tours now.” It had hurt like hell to let it go. But he hadn’t deserved it and he knew it. Letting go meant owning that. So he had. It still hurt to say it but that pain kept him honest.

“He’s good at it. You are all incredibly successful. It’s sort of stunning to see it from where we’ve been. I don’t know how you all deal with that much energy coming at you at once.”

And just like that she’d steered him onto safer ground.

He turned up the long drive leading to the houses up at the ranch.