“There, taken care of it for you.”
Nan patted his cheek. “You’re a good boy. Can you go change the batteries in the upstairs smoke alarm? I swear it waits until I get in bed before it starts chirping at me. The batteries are in the window bottom.”
Matt jogged up the narrow stairs with ugly, white woodchip wallpaper he threw a fresh coat of paint on every couple of years. There was a missing spindle in the wooden railing, and like always, Matt vowed to fix it one day, just like he’d fix the gap under the back door. The band had to catch a break eventually and be able to earn more than just enough. He was a good songwriter, and for all his faults, his brother was a fantastic lead singer.
He glanced into Nan’s room. Condensation lingered on the bottom of the window, and it looked like the black mould was back in the corners above the bed. Matt made a mental note to come back to treat it again. Across the hallway was the smaller of the two rooms. The room he and Jase had shared from the ages of seven and five after their mum had almost killed them. Celebrating New Year’s wasn’t a problem. But twenty-six-year-old Michelle getting pissed off her head, then deciding to tuck Matt and Jase into the back seat of the car and drive them home while she was still drunk had been.
The car was a wreck, they’d all survived with forty-seven stitches, two concussions, and two plaster casts between them. He rubbed his hand along his forearm where the scar sat. Nan wouldn’t let anyone else have them after that. Matt’s dad was unknown. A one-night stand during a two-week holiday in Ibiza. Jase’s, an abusive douchebag. So, they’d become Nan’s, and nobody had argued the point.
Visits with mum had grown further and further apart until the last time he could remember seeing her was his tenth birthday, when she’d stopped off at the labour club for five minutes to drop off a gift for him. He didn’t even know where she was now.
Matt changed the battery just as the front door slammed open downstairs.
“Nan?” His younger brother’s voice boomed through the house. “Your favourite grandson’s here.”
Arrogant fucker.
Matt jogged down the stairs. “If you were her favourite, you’d be the one changing the batteries in her smoke alarm and fixing the mould every time it appeared in the bedroom.”
“You’re confusing favourite and most useful. Watch and learn, Matt. Watch and learn.” In Jase’s hands was a sad looking bunch of flowers. Carnations. Ugly looking things in pastel shades that cost two quid for ten stems, but they were his nan’s favourite and Jase knew it.
“Oh, Jase,” she said. “Such a thoughtful boy.”
Jase threw Matt a smug look over Nan’s shoulder as she hugged him.
“Yeah, he’s a regular saint,” Matt said.
Jase flipped him the bird. “Alex is pissed you’re cooking me his favourite, Nan.”
Nan tutted. “I swear everything is that lad’s favourite.”
“You don’t know the half of it, Nan,” Matt muttered, and Jase grinned.
Matt’s mind drifted to Harry and his Izzie this and Izzie that.
And Iz. Smelling like roses, and with eyes so expressive he could read her every thought.
And now he was stuck taking her to a wedding. Like, how was he supposed to explain it to Luke? Luke, who had threatened to leave the band and ditch both Palmer brothers after Jase had spent the night with Izabel. Luke, his best friend, his music co-writer, his bandmate. Luke, who was already going through his own shit.
Matt’s promise to keep Jase away from Izabel was one of the few bits of glue holding the band together.
What the hell had he been thinking?
He should just quit. Build a new group. One that didn’t take so much energy to keep on the straight and narrow.
“Boys. Go wash your hands. Your tea won’t be long.”
Matt watched her head back into the kitchen.
“Do you want a ride to rehearsal tonight?” Matt offered.
Jase shrugged. “Depends. Are you going to be pissed if I tell you I’m not coming?”
Matt turned and looked at him. “You got a good reason?”
“Was able to bag an extra shift at the pub. That’s why Nan is doing tea early.”
Anger flooded him. Jase treated the band like a hobby. “I already paid for the rehearsal space. We’re going to work on some new songs.”
“Steve called me this afternoon. Asked if I could cover for Jen because her kid’s sick. Plus, I’m skint. Need some extra cash.”
“Fuck, it’s like wrangling cats. Alex’s shifts meant we had to do tonight. You need to let Steve know you can’t make it.”
Jase glanced at his watch. “I can’t let him down ninety minutes before I’m supposed to start after I said yes.”
“But you’ll let the band down?”
Jase rolled his eyes. “Relax. It’s not like my opinion counts for shit. We end up doing it your way anyway.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is, Matt. Your songs, your arrangements. And you don’t really like feedback. Maybe from Luke. So, you go rehearse, then come back to me and tell me what you need me to sing. And in the meantime, I’ll go earn my rent.”
“No. You’ll go—”
“Matt. Get away from your brother and sit down before I spank the pair of you.”
Matt eyed his brother, but for Nan’s sake, stepped away as Jase’s words penetrated his anger.
Maybe he did want control.
Maybe he did things his way.
But he didn’t always get what he wanted.
Because if he did, Iz would be sitting down with him at Nan’s table with them.
And he’d be going to the wedding as her boyfriend for real.
Not her pretend one.
3
Instinctively, Izabel ran her fingers through the end of her hair. She took a deep breath and straightened her blouse—a pretty, pale pink one because Matt had once commented how the colour suited her—and then picked a speck of cotton off her favourite soft denim jeans. Then she raised her hand and knocked on Matt’s apartment door.
She hadn’t been up to his apartment since the day Luke had helped him move in, when Izabel had made them sandwiches for lunch. Later that evening, Luke had made it clear he didn’t want her hanging around any of his bandmates on her own, even though her only mistake had been with Jase.
She’d wanted to be angry with him, but ironically, she’d understood. She’d already made one huge mistake; how could she be trusted to not make another?
He’d be mad if he knew she was up here now, and she planned to sneak out through the back exit of the building on the off chance he was looking out of the window when she finally left the building.
Izabel glanced down at her watch. Five minutes to seven. It was early, but she needed to be at the shelter by eight. She’d put a yoghurt and banana in one of her bags to eat on the go. In her other bag was a huge haul of fresh socks she’d been able to convince a wholesaler to donate to the shelter.
Impatient, she hammered on the door again. Perhaps he wasn’t home. Perhaps he’d stayed out all night. Wait. What if he was with someone? Oh, God. She should have messaged him and arranged a time. And now she was thinking about logistics while trying to bury the ache that filled her whenever she thought of him with anyone else.