“Yep. Like you three are expecting the answer to change,” I say.

“You still pretending it’s just casual?” Hawkin asks.

I tighten my grip on my sticks. “It is casual.”

Three pairs of eyes stare at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“What?” I frown.

Rocket snorts. “Oh, Giz.”

Vince leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “So, let me get this straight. You’re ‘fake married’ to a gorgeous woman who definitely keeps you on your toes, she’s living with you, and you’re still telling yourself this is just about sex?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

Which is exactly the reaction these assholes were hoping for.

Hawkin grins, tilting his head. “Holy shit. You like her.”

I scoff. “Not in that way.”

“Oh my God,” Vince says, eyes widening. “Jase. Jasey-boy. Our resident love ’em and leave ’em drummer has feelings in that way.”

I shake my head. “It’s not like that.”

Rocket smirks. “No? Where do you start your night? In her bed? Where do you finish your night? Still in her bed? I mean . . . sounds like it is like that.”

My jaw clenches.

Their expressions shift instantly.

Vince lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”

Hawkin chuckles. “Yeah, you’re screwed, man.”

I toss my drumstick at him. He dodges it easily.

“This isn’t a thing,” I say, forcing my voice to stay level. “Hendrix and I—we’re just playing the game. It’s working. The marriage serves a purpose to ensure our band can tour. So what if we’re having incredible sex to help pass the time?”

Then why do I feel so shitty selling whatever this is between us short with a crappy explanation like that?

Rocket raises a brow. “But?”

I exhale through my nose, dragging a hand through my hair.

But she makes my house feel warmer.

But I know the exact way she likes her coffee.

But I listen for her footsteps when she comes in late.

But she fits next to me, in ways I never thought someone could.

Fuck.

“There’s no but,” I say, a little too quickly.

Vince and Rocket exchange a look before Hawkin leans in, smirking. “Uh-huh. Sure, man. Keep telling yourself that.”

I scowl. “Can we get back to the song now? This new material isn’t going to write itself.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Vince stretches. “But just for the record? There’s no shame in wanting more.”

I ignore the comment and start the beat again, letting the music drown out the truth I don’t want to admit yet.

Because they’re right.

I think I do want more and that scares the shit out of me.

Everyone I’ve ever loved has left me. Scarred me. Hurt me.

I refuse to open myself back up to that, regardless of how good it feels now.

It never lasts.

Ever.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Gizmo