Free Prove Me Right by Anna Brooks Page A

side of my head. I try to push him away, but he slams me against the wall and forces my head up. I keep my eyes closed. I know what he’ll see—the guilt, the embarrassment—and I’m not ready to go there yet.
    “Fuck me. Lee, what in the fuck are you doing?” He slaps the side of my face, and I slowly open my heavy lids.
    Once his eyes meet mine, he curses under his breath again and pushes my shoulders. “Liam, Jesus fuck. You visit your old man while you were there? Meara know you’re back into this shit?”
    I don’t confirm or deny but push off the wall. “I need to get ready for the show.”
    “Fuck the show! I’m not gonna stand around and do nothing this time.”
    Mike and Gabe appear out of nowhere and stare at me.
    “Yes, you will because there’s nothing for you to do anything about.”
    My shoulder knocks into my brother on my way to the bathroom. I splash cold water on my face but refuse to look into the mirror. I take a quick shower and throw on a pair of jeans and t-shirt then my boots and a hat. The guys are waiting for me outside, and without making eye contact, I hop in the waiting SUV and pull the brim of my hat over my eyes.
    The ride to the venue is quiet, and as soon as we pull up, I hop out and head to the dressing room. A bottle of vodka is already waiting for us, and I grab it and take some long pulls.
    Jamie walks in and looks at the bottle, then me, shakes his head, and walks right back out. Whatever. Everyone likes to act all superior. As if being in this business doesn’t take a toll on them, as if it doesn’t tear them apart. I’m the only one who can admit how fucking hard it is. But because they don’t have a woman who’s waiting for them, they don’t get it. All they have is random pussy.
    The show goes off without a hitch, and I play better tonight than I have in a long time. My solos are spot on, I engage with the crowd, and I even toss my sticks at the end, feeling more alive than I have in a long time. I thought the guys would be happy, especially Mike.
    “Killer show, right?” I raise my hand for a fist bump, but he ignores it and slams the door to our dressing room.
    “What the fuck, Liam?” Mike asks.
    “What? You were giving me shit about fucking up yesterday. I focused, man. I kicked ass … isn’t that what you want?” The high is long gone, but I still feel … on point right now, excited almost.
    “Not like that, Liam. Never like that.”
    I huff out a breath and reach for the bottle, but Jamie beats me to it and knocks it to the floor, its contents pouring out.
    “What the fuck, man?” I lean down to grab it, but Mike pushes me away. When I straighten my back, I see the three men who mean almost as much as Meara does to me staring back. And they’re all looking at me with disappointment.
    “You’re not doing this to yourself again.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not doing anything. ‘Cause I wanna have a fucking drink after the show? Whatever …” I turn around and slam the door on my way out, then walk around until I find who I’m looking for. I don’t know him, but when I raise my eyebrow in question, he looks around and nods, then leads me down the dark hallway.

Chapter 8
    Meara
    “GUESS WHAT?” I JUMP up and down when Charlotte walks into the pub and grab her shoulders. “Guess fucking what?”
    Her eyes widen. “What?”
    “Liam’s moving back home in six months!” I squeal and jump even higher. It’s the Tuesday after he visited and since we’re closed on Mondays, I stayed holed up in my apartment all day, something I’m not used to at all. I was up late catching up on paperwork though so I could do some looking. I wanted to tell Char in person, so I waited until today. “And I looked at houses all day yesterday. I have a whole day of tours scheduled for next Monday, and you’re coming with me!”
    “Whoa. What?” She laughs and hugs me. “You’re house hunting. That means …”
    “He’s coming