I shook my head at the little old lady who had basically raised me. “I put some on, but it sweated off after about an hour. We were so busy I didn’t bother putting more on.”

She made a disapproving noise in the back of her throat and I quickly excused myself to go take a shower before she used one of her wooden spoons to tan my hide for not listening to her. She was always worrying about me. If I’d thought that my graduating from high school and getting a real job would have made her stop, I’d been wrong. Not that I would admit it out loud, but I liked that she still worried about me.

In the shower, I let out a relieved groan as I let the lukewarm water wash away the sweat and grime of the day. I took my time washing, since it was a Friday and we had our usual gig that night. We were going on earlier than usual that night because I’d requested it, so I didn’t have much time after supper to get out to Floyd’s Bar.

The reasons for my request had gotten all of my band-brothers pissed off. Not because we were going to be in and out of the bar sooner than usual—meaning our pay wasn’t going to be nearly as good—but because they wouldn’t get the pussy that came with the later show. My jaw clenched and I leaned back against the shower wall as I thought about Annabelle.

I didn’t mind her coming to me every night. I knew as long as she was in my room, she was safe. It was how scared she was every time she came to me that messed with my fucked-up head. Jacob Malcolm was a hair’s breath away from getting buried in one of the potholes on one of the back roads that I had to fix every day. It took all my willpower not to fuck that bastard up, but I’d refrained from doing so because Annabelle had begged me not to do anything that would land me in trouble.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, I raked my hands through my dripping hair, pulling on the ends like the mad man I was. All my life I’d fought with my OCD, but I knew it was more than that. My mind was broken and there was nothing I could do to fix it. But when Annabelle was around, when I had her to smile at me and flash those damn blue eyes up at me, I felt like I wasn’t nearly as broken.

That the one person who brought me peace was scared to even sleep in her own bed was not helping my sanity any.

Muttering a curse, I beat my fist on the shower wall, imagining Jacob’s face as I destroyed it. It was only when my hand started to ache that I turned off the water and reached for a towel. My knuckles were swollen, but at least I hadn’t busted them open. It was going to be a bitch playing later, but I’d deal with that. I’d rather play hurt than have my rage for that fucker so close to the surface.

I was still distracted from thinking about Annabelle, though. So much so that Gram kept asking me if I was alright during supper. I knew I was worrying her, but couldn’t manage to reassure her. She knew that if I wasn’t laughing and joking around that something was wrong, but Annabelle had pleaded with me not to tell my grandparents about what was going on in the house next door.

“You gettin’ sick, boy?” Gramps asked as he swallowed a bite of the apple pie Gram had made for dessert.

I forced a smile for the old man. He was the only father figure I’d ever known, and I knew I could have done a hell of a lot worse when it came to having a male role model to show me how to be a man. Gramps was a gruff man, who rarely showed any emotion, but he’d always treated Gram like she was a queen. That was good enough for me.

“Nah, Gramps. Just tired. Been a long week.”

Having worked his entire life for the county before retiring ten years before, Gramps understood just how tiring it could be. With a nod, Gramps went back to eating his pie and I hurried to finish my own so I could get out the door. Devlin was already waiting in his driveway two houses over when I called a ‘goodnight’ to Grams.

Seeing me headed toward the old truck I’d bought with my first paycheck that summer, he came over and climbed in beside me. He had his own truck, but it was a waste of gas for us both to drive when we were going to the same place.

Normally Devlin and I would have been joking the whole way to Floyd’s Bar, but neither of us was in a laughing mood that night. I’d told him that Annabelle had climbed through my window again the night before and he’d been brooding about it all day just as much as I had been.

We knew what was going to happen if things didn’t change for Annabelle at home. Her brother had moved out at the beginning of the summer to live in the apartment above the garage his family owned—the only real garage in West Bridge Tennessee. He knew what was going on at home, but I don’t think he really understood the real danger his sister was in. Annabelle hadn’t told him everything. Once he did, once I told him all of it, things were going to change for all of us.

Noah and Annabelle were closer than any siblings I’d ever known. He would want to protect her even more than I did. My jaw clenched and I shook my head as I stopped at the only stop sign in the county. Maybe more than I did. Maybe. I wasn’t sure if that was possible, but what-the-fuck-ever. Noah would put Annabelle first. He would want to get his sister as far away from their mother and stepfather as possible. I knew he would quit OtherWorld.

My gut clenched at that thought. Not just because I would miss Noah, who was like a brother to me, but because I would miss Annabelle.

So fucking much.

I would miss her climbing through my window every night. I’d miss her burying her face against my chest and holding on to me until she fell asleep. I’d miss the way her soft little body felt against my own. And I’d miss waking up beside her every morning.

For fifteen years I’d thought of Annabelle as a sister and one of my closest friends. But two years ago those feelings had shifted and I’d started looking at my friend in an entirely differently light. Annabelle wasn’t just a friend any longer. She was a hot chick who I wanted. Bad.

Mostly I’d been able to keep a leash on my feelings for her, but that was getting harder and harder to do now. I’d been fighting with myself since that first damn night she’d tapped on my window. My fucked-up head didn’t understand that wanting Annabelle Cassidy was a bad thing. Not only was it wrong to want my best friend’s little sister, but she was two years younger than I was.

Two years might not seem like that much of a difference, but when you were nearly nineteen and the girl wouldn’t be seventeen for a few more weeks, things got tricky. I was considered an adult while she was still technically a baby. Jailbait was what Liam had called her one night.

Yeah. She was definitely jailbait.

“You gonna go, bro?”

I blinked, realizing I’d been stopped at the stop sign for several minutes. Letting a few curse words loose, I pressed on the gas and drove through the intersection. Devlin chuckled for the first time that day and I felt a little of my own tension ease slightly at the sound of my friend’s laughter.

By the time we got to Floyd’s Bar, I was relaxed enough that I didn’t feel like a homicidal maniac. I played like shit when I was pissed and didn’t want to mess the night up even more than I already suspected it would be. Finding a parking spot, I jumped out of the truck and spotted the trailer that Wroth and Liam pulled with Wroth’s Ford. We kept our stuff in the trailer and since Wroth was always so worried about his guitar getting fucked up, he was the only one who pulled it.

And since the fucker scared the shit out of me, I didn’t protest. Seriously, not much in the world scared me, but Wroth Niall was at the top of that short list. Second only to my fear of something happening to Annabelle.

Noah, Liam and Wroth were already carrying our gear inside so Devlin and I jumped in to help. Mostly I played bass, but because my Gram had been forcing me to play the piano since I was three, I had some skills with the keyboard as well. Of course her version of skills was playing Mozart whereas mine was learning to play Metallica and actually making it sound good while being played on a cheap-ass keyboard.