Page 96 of Play For Me

“I’m so sor?—”

“It’s fine,” he kisses the side of my head. “It’s kind of cute, honestly. They’re looking out for you.”

I scoff. “Since when have I ever needed them to look out for me?”

He laughs against my ear. “I’m sure you scared away any boy who deserved it long before they could.”

I force myself to relax into his arms. Yes, Will had been a dick and Wyatt hadn’t been much better. Yes, my family is loud and annoying and totally stressful. But he’s still here, holding me, apparently not caring that a bunch of people continue to gape at us like we’re a side show.

“I tried to scare you away,” I say, remembering how I’d shut him down every time he tried to do his job and treat my injury.

“Youwerepretty scary,” he agrees, laughing when I reach back to pinch his side. “But I could handle it. You’ll have to get a whole lot meaner than that if you want to get rid of me.”

I turn in his arms so I can look up at him, my gaze darting between his eyes, studying him. He looks okay. A little tense, sure, but okay. I smile.

“I have no desire to get rid of you Barnes. You’re stuck with me.”

His smile makes my heart beat faster. “Just where I want to be.”

TWENTY-FIVE

CECELIA

Things feel less tense after that. They have us in a roped off VIP area for the concert, and while there are a lot of us, it’s way less crowded than it would be if we were out on the main floor. Em and Jay are with us, and the other Littles, so it feels a lot less like we’re in a fishbowl where everyone in the family is watching.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” I tell Sol before the band hits the stage. “I brought you these.” I pull out a pair of silicone ear plugs. “They don’t block out sound but they dampen it.” Ash uses these a lot, even when it’s just us at home. He says they aren’t as uncomfortable or as deafening as the foam kinds you get at drug stores, but they help to keep the noises around him from being overwhelming.

Sol looks down at the earplugs like he’s not quite sure what to do with them. “You, uh, don’t have to use them if you don’t want to,” I tell him, unsure. I don’t want him to feel like I’m babying him, but if these might help him have a better time, I should offer them, right?

“No,” he says quickly, leaning down to kiss my cheek. “These are great. Thank you.”

As he slides them into his ears, I catch sight of Wyatt a few feet away, watching us. I can’t read his expression so I stick mytongue out at him, playing the bratty little sister. He gives me a brief grin before turning back to the stage. Just then the lights go down and the venue erupts into screaming as the show starts.

It’s a great show. Ruby Roads has gotten even better than the last time I saw them. Watching Silas play is always fun—he looks kind of shy up there whenever he glances out at the audience, but when his attention is on his guitar, he’s totally locked in. It’s also fun watching my dad watch him play. He always cries, usually more than once. Such a sap.

After the show, the dressing room is somehow crazier than before, with way more people who I don’t know. Ash tells us there’s no way he’s staying in the madness for longer than a few minutes. I have no idea if he’s saying that for Sol’s benefit or if he really can’t cope, but I’m grateful for the excuse to leave either way.

“After-party at Grandma’s bar,” Silas tells me when I manage to find him in the throng to say goodbye. “The parents all promised to leave early.”

“Grandma’s Bar?” Jay asks as we make our way through the crowded back hallways and outside to the waiting SUVs. “I’ve never heard of it.”

Ash laughs. “That’s not the name—it’s literally our grandma’s bar.”

“Yourgrandmaowns a bar?”

“She does, and it’s awesome,” I tell him.

Sol doesn’t say anything. I wonder if he’s dreading the idea of meeting even more of my family members.

We’re the first in the family to get to the Purple Cat. We head straight for the patio, which grandma usually shuts down for family events. Sure enough, it’s basically empty back there and we claim a table by the water fountain.

“This is not what I pictured when you said your grandmother owned this place,” Jay says, looking around. Grandma’s bar isbright, kitschy, and totally over-the-top. She based it off the beach bum bars she grew up with in Key West. With the bright colors, mismatched tables and teak chairs, gaudy beach-themed decoration, and plethora of Christmas lights hung everywhere, it really doesn’t match the sleek vibes of its Malibu neighborhood. But that just makes me love it even more.

Ruby Roads is a big enough deal now that they could have had their afterparty at any exclusive club in LA, but we’re all comfortable here. It’s nice to know that the waitstaff isn’t going to try to take cell phone pictures or sell gossip to the tabloids.

“Are those my grandchildren?” a familiar voice calls, and I look up to see Ruby approaching us. I grin at the sight of her and jump up to go hug her, Ash following me.

Ruby is not exactly what most would picture when hearing the wordgrandmother. She’s a little fireball of a woman with a hot pink pixie haircut, tattoos, a nose ring, and the kind of clear, glowing skin a 30-year-old would envy. She didn’t meet my grandpa until after our dads were fully grown, but she’s been around my whole life, and she’s one of my favorite people in the world.