Thoughtful

Book 4: A Thoughtless Novel

by S.C. Stephens

Genres: Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

A new novel in the Thoughtless series from #1 New York Times bestselling author S. C. Stephens

Every story has two sides, and in this new book, the epic love story between Kiera and Kellan is shown through his eyes.

All Kellan Kyle needs is his guitar and some clean sheets of paper. Growing up in a house that was far from a home, he learned a hard lesson: “you’re worthless.” Now his life is comfortably filled with passionate music, loyal band mates, and fast women … until he meets her.

Kiera makes him ache for more; she makes him feel, for the first time, that he’s worth more. But there’s one problem—she’s his best friend’s girl.

Just when Kellan thought his emotional defenses were rock solid, Kiera’s indecisive heart wreaks havoc on his soul, changing him forever. Losing Kiera is not an option.

Release date: February 24, 2015

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 560

Sample

Chapter 1

I’d been playing the guitar since I was six. While I’d been with the D-Bags for a few years now, I’d been in one band or another since high school. My childhood hadn’t been the easiest, and music had been my saving grace. From the first time I’d held my guitar, I’d been hooked. It was the feel of the wood beneath my fingers, smooth, cool. It was the toughness of the strings, the reverberation deep inside the instrument. Even when I had been too young to really understand the impact music would have on my life, playing the guitar had spoken to me. There was something meaningful in that simple instrument that was dying to come out. There was something meaningful inside of me that was dying to come out.


My parents had given the instrument to me as a gift, but even back then I’d known it was more for them than for me. It was a convenient way to keep me occupied and out of their hair so they didn’t have to be around me as much. My conception had been an unwanted accident, and my parents had never warmed up to me, never accepted me. I was a mistake that had forever changed their lives, and they’d never let me forget it. Whatever. The guitar kept me out of their way and I loved playing it, so it was a decent present, regardless of the ulterior motives behind it.

They hadn’t bothered getting me lessons though, so I’d taught myself. It had taken forever on my own, but being an only child with no close friends and parents who didn’t want to have anything to do with me had afforded me a healthy amount of free time. My dad had liked to have the radio on whenever he was home. He would generally listen to talk radio, NPR and such, but when he put on music, it was almost always classic rock. I loved trying to mimic the songs, and once I’d mastered the basic chords, I’d played along with every song I could. It had irritated the hell out of Dad. He’d turn the radio up and order me to my room. “If you want to cause permanent ear damage with your god-awful racket, then do it alone so only you have to suffer,” he’d say.

I’d go upstairs, but I’d leave my door cracked open so I could still hear the music. We had a big house when I was growing up, but if I strummed really softly, I could follow along with whatever was playing. For the next several years, “Stairway to Heaven” was my favorite song, but, then again, I think that’s everybody’s favorite song when they’re learning.

For the first time in my young life, I’d found something that gave me complete and total peace, something I connected with, something with similar wants and desires. The guitar needed to be played. I needed to play it. It was a mutual, beautiful, symbiotic relationship, and for a long time, it was the only real relationship I had.


Grabbing my beloved instrument, I closed the door to my house. “Home” was a term I used lightly when I was describing my place. Truly, it was my parents’ house, but they’d died a couple years ago and left it to me. I stayed there because it was a building with four walls and a roof, but I had no emotional attachment to it. It was nothing but wood, brick, glass, nails, glue, and cement.

While I’d been living in Los Angeles, my parents had sold my childhood home and moved to a much smaller house. I didn’t know about it until they died. When I came back, I soon realized that they’d tossed everything of mine. It was confusing. They’d tried to scrub out my existence, but they’d still left me the house, the stocks, the retirement funds—everything. Sometimes I had a hard time understanding why they’d done that. Maybe they’d had a change of heart about me? Or maybe not.

I turned away from their house to see my gorgeous black-and-chrome Chevelle Malibu shining in the late-afternoon sun. I’d gotten her dirt cheap in L.A., and I’d spent a decent chunk of my summer fixing her up. She was a thing of beauty, my baby, and no one drove her but me.

Setting the guitar in the trunk, I headed to meet the guys for rehearsal. After easing my way onto the freeway, my eyes, as always, drifted to the unique cityscape of the Seattle skyline as it blossomed into view.

I’ve had a dichotomous relationship with the Emerald City over the years, both loving and hating it at times. Bad memories lurked around every corner—the loneliness of my childhood, the rejection, the biting remarks, the constant put-downs, the daily reminders of how much of an undesirable burden I was. The emotional poison my parents had injected into me had left its mark, but I had a good thing going here now, and the band was a large reason for my changed attitude toward the city.

Evan Wilder and I had formed the D-Bags together. With only my guitar on my back, a few dollars in my pocket, and dreams of a better life in my head, I’d left Seattle right after my high school graduation ceremony. Hitchhiking a ride wherever I could get one, I soon found myself at a bar on the Oregon coast. I’d stopped in for a drink and found Evan trying to convince the bartender that he was old enough to have a beer. He wasn’t. Neither was I, but I managed to wink my way into a pitcher. I’d shared it with him, and we’d bonded over our mutual love of beer and music.

After spending a little time with Evan’s family, the two of us had headed south, to L.A., City of Angels, to pick up some more band members. We’d found Matt and Griffin Hancock in the unlikeliest of places. A strip club. Well, maybe that wasn’t so unlikely. Evan and I were horny, fresh-out-of-high-school teenagers after all.

The four of us had worked well together, even from the beginning, and were soon rocking bars and clubs in L.A. We’d probably still be there, except I’d dropped everything and rushed back to Seattle after my parents died. Surprising the shit out of me, the guys had followed, and we’d been playing here ever since.

Traffic thickened as I neared downtown. We always rehearsed at Evan’s place, since he technically didn’t live in a residential area, so our noise wasn’t an issue. His studio was above an auto body shop. That came in handy when my baby needed servicing. Roxie was my favorite mechanic there. She loved my car almost as much as I did, and would often take a look at her while I was upstairs with the guys.

Roxie was laughing with a coworker when I pulled up, but she still shot me a wave the second she saw me. Or, more accurately, my Chevelle; the girl only had eyes for my car. “Hey, Roxie. How’s it going?”

Running a dirty hand through her short hair, she answered, “Good. I’m thinking of writing a children’s book about a monkey wrench who helps animals that are in trouble. I might have him drive a Chevelle.” She winked.

“Sounds awesome.” I laughed. “Good luck.”

“Thanks!” She grinned. As I headed for the stairs with my guitar, she shouted, “Let me know if the Chevelle needs anything! You know I’d make house calls for her, right?”

“Yep! I know,” I shouted back.

Griffin was in the kitchen, rummaging through Evan’s food, when I walked in. Playing always gave him the munchies. His pale eyes shifted my way, and smiling, I tossed him the box of Froot Loops I’d brought along with me. I’d picked them up while grocery shopping on an empty stomach, but they really didn’t sound that great, and I knew they’d never get eaten at my house.

Griffin’s expression brightened as he caught the box. “Sweet!” he muttered, immediately ripping it open. He reached into the bag, grabbed a handful of the sugary cereal, and was loudly crunching on it before I’d even made it into the living room area of the one-room loft.

Matt looked up when I set my guitar case on the couch beside him. He’d been staring at something on his cell phone that sort of looked like a website. I wasn’t entirely sure, I didn’t even own a cell phone, and probably never would. Technology kind of mystified me, and I just didn’t care enough to figure it out. I liked what I liked, regardless of whether it was out of date or not. My car still had a tape deck in it, for God’s sake, which Griffin continuously chided me about, but as long as it still worked, I was happy with what I had.

“I think we should start playing festivals and fairs, and not just bars. It’s too late to get into Bumbershoot this year, but I think we need to do it next year. I think we’re ready.” With slim features, blond hair, and blue eyes, Matt and Griffin were physically a lot alike. Personality-wise, though, the cousins couldn’t have been more different.

“Yeah? Think so?” I asked, not too surprised that Matt was contemplating our future. He often did.

Behind him, I could see Evan wading through the rehearsal equipment that the band kept here at his place. His warm brown eyes were smiling at me beneath his close-cut dark hair as he approached the couch. “Definitely, we’re as ready as we’ll ever be, Kell. It’s time to step it up a notch. With your lyrics and my rhythms… we’re golden.” While Matt was one of the most talented guitarists I’d ever seen, Evan was the one who arranged most of our pieces.

Matt glanced back at Evan with an eager nod. Looking between the two, I pondered whether we were ready. I supposed they were right, we were. We had more than enough songs, and probably enough fans. It could be a big step for the band, or it could be a giant waste of time.

When Evan got to the back of the couch, he crossed his arms over his chest. All of my bandmates were littered with random tattoos—Griffin’s were a bit on the obscene side, naked girls and stuff, and Matt’s were classier, with meaning behind every twist and symbol. Evan’s though, his were like a living, breathing work of art. His arms alone were a museum-worthy masterpiece of fire, water, and everything in between.

While Matt and Griffin were both on the skinny side, Evan was bulkier. My body type was middle of the road, not too bulky, not too lean, and in terms of body art, I was a virgin. I just couldn’t think of one thing I loved well enough to permanently scratch it into my skin. Nothing in life was permanent, so why pretend it was by immortalizing it? Seemed pointless to me.

I grinned at my two eager bandmates. “Let’s do it then. Make it happen, Matt.”

Smiling, Matt went back to his phone. Griffin walked up and tossed an arm around me. “Awesome! What are we doing?” Some stray pieces of cereal fell from his mouth after he asked.

“Nothing yet,” I answered, smacking his chest.

He made an oomph sound, and even more of the brightly colored circles fell from his cheeks. I swear Griffin had the largest mouth of anyone I knew.


After a couple of hours of rehearsal, we called it a night. Piling into our cars, we headed over to Pete’s Bar. The bar was our home base, where we played at least once a week, if not more, but we always seemed to end up there, even on nights we didn’t play there. It was like the day didn’t feel complete until we’d stepped through the double doors, however briefly. Everyone knew us there, and we knew just about everyone. Our stuff was there, our friends were there, our life was there.

I pulled the Chevelle into my unofficial parking spot. As usual, it was empty, waiting for me. When I shut the car off, the sounds of Fleetwood Mac died midchorus. I briefly considered turning the car back on to finish listening to the song, but I’d heard it a million times, and I really wanted to go sit down and have a nice cold, refreshing beer. That sounded fantastic right now.

Evan was getting out of his vehicle at almost the same time I was getting out of mine. He clapped me on the shoulder when I met him at the back of my car. I looked around for Matt and Griffin, but I didn’t see Griffin’s Vanagon anywhere. “Uh, where are Tweedledee and Tweedledum?” I asked Evan.

He raised a corner of his lip. “Jackass said he needed to run home because he forgot Traci’s shorts, and she needs them for work.”

Picturing those two, I shook my head. Traci was a waitress at Pete’s. She and Griffin had been messing around lately, which wasn’t really a problem, except for the fact that Traci was starting to get attached, and she wasn’t the type to be okay with keeping things casual forever. And that made her the exact opposite of Griffin.

The warm light of the bar’s neon signs washed over me as I pushed open the doors to my haven. I inhaled a deep breath as I walked in, and unknown anxieties leached from my muscles. Everything about this place relaxed me. The noise, the smells, the music, and the people. If ever I could say I was truly content, it was here.

From my left, a husky voice let out a coarse “Hey there, Kellan.”

Looking over, I saw the bartender, Rita, studying me. She had an expression on her face akin to a man who was dying of thirst, staring at a pitcher of water. I was used to that look on her though. I’d slept with her once, and by the way she looked at me, once wasn’t enough. “Hey, Rita.” I nodded my head up in greeting and her eyes fluttered closed with a soft groan.

“Jesus,” she murmured as she ran a sharp, painted nail along her plunging neckline. “So fucking hot…”

After waving a greeting to the regulars, Evan and I made our way over to our table. Well, I suppose technically it wasn’t ours, but, like my parking space outside, it had become known as the band’s by our frequent visitations.

Leaning back in my chair, I propped my feet up on the end of the table. Just as I was debating whether I wanted chicken strips or a burger, my feet were unceremoniously dumped to the floor. I lurched forward a bit in my seat as my body weight shifted. A cute blonde wearing a tight red Pete’s Bar shirt was standing at the end of the table with her hand on her hip. Her full lips were pursed in displeasure. “Don’t put your feet on the table, Kellan. People eat there.”

An amused smile curled my lips. “Sorry, Jenny. Just getting comfortable.”

Jenny’s mouth expanded into a charming smile. “A beer is what will make you comfortable. Two or four?” Her pale eyes shifted between Evan, me, and the empty chairs at our table.

Evan interpreted her question about our missing bandmates and raised four fingers. “They’re on their way.”

Jenny’s smile turned playful as she reached out and scratched Evan’s head. He closed his eyes and started thumping his leg on the floor like a dog getting its belly rubbed. Jenny giggled, and her eyes lit up in a way that was exceedingly attractive. I liked Jenny. She had a good heart, and she never openly judged me for the promiscuous nature of my life.

I’d discovered sex at a really young age, completely by happenstance, and like music, it had touched a nerve with me. I still craved that feeling, that closeness, and I sought it out as often as I could. I wasn’t picky about who I slept with—older, younger, attractive, homely, mothers, girlfriends, wives. Who they were didn’t matter to me, I only cared that they were interested. That probably wasn’t the best thing to admit, but it was the truth. Sex was a release for me. It made me feel like a part of something bigger than myself, made me feel connected to the world around me. And I needed to feel that way. My life was full of empty spaces.


I’d tried pretty hard to date Jenny when she’d first started working here, but she’d point-blank turned me down. She said she didn’t want to be anybody’s fling. She hadn’t turned away from our friendship though, and that meant a lot to me. I wouldn’t say no if she changed her mind and wanted to go a round or two, but I wasn’t going to push it again. I liked where we were, even if it wasn’t sexual.

As Jenny started walking away, I called out, “I’ll take a burger too! With bacon!” She lifted her thumb in the air, so I knew she’d heard me.

As I shifted my eyes from Jenny’s backside, Evan poked me in the ribs. “Hey, Kell,” he asked, “what do you think about Brooke? I was thinking about asking her to go out with me. I don’t know, but I think she could be the one, man. I mean, have you seen the dimples on her?”

Evan grinned and I couldn’t help but smile at him. “Yeah, I think she’s great. Go for it.” Evan found a new “one” every other month, it seemed. Might as well give it a go with Brooke. It could be the best month and a half of his life. My input given, I returned my feet to the table and waited for my food, my drink, and the rest of my bandmates to arrive.

“Oh my God. You’re Kellan Kyle…”

I turned at hearing my name. Thanks to my occupation, I got recognized from time to time, especially here at the bar. At the table across from me, a petite young woman with hair so blond it was almost silver was staring my way. Framed in thick black mascara, the girl’s irises were a turquoise shade of blue, like calm tropical water. There was no denying she was cute, and she seemed to know who I was, so I gave her a genuinely warm smile as I responded to her statement.

“At your service,” I said, tipping a hat I wasn’t wearing. She giggled, and the sound was oddly innocent, considering how she was eyeing me. The truth was plain though; this girl was no angel. Neither was I, so already we were a good match.

She asked if she could sit at my table and I shrugged. Sure, why not. After she pulled up a chair, she gushed, “I saw you play a couple of weeks ago in Pioneer Square.” Her hand came up and her fingers touched my chest, then trailed down my stomach. “You… were amazing.”

My lips parted as I stared her down, and her eyes tracked the movement. Just that brief touch sparked something in me… desire, longing. I wasn’t sure why, but there was something about human touch that spoke to my soul. A clap on the back from a friend could completely alter my mood, while a girl running her hand up my thigh could instantly put me in the mood. It was a potent and unexplainable connection that I shared with people when they crossed into my personal space, whether they realized the significance of it or not. And right now, this strange woman caressing me was opening me up to something wanton and lustful.


I was putty in her hands right now. I’d do anything… all she needed to do was ask. So ask, Ms. Ocean Eyes, and I’ll be anything you want me to be.


And at the end of the night, she finally did ask, in a roundabout way. “How about we go to your place for a drink? Where do you live?”

Eagerness rushed through me at what I knew was about to happen, but I kept my expression casual and carefree. “Not far.”

It took less than fifteen minutes to get to my house; my “date” followed me in her car. With her almost on my heels, I walked up to the front door and opened it. Stepping into the entryway, I flung my keys onto the half-moon table underneath a row of coat hooks. Over my shoulder, I asked her, “So, what kind of drink would you like?”

The front door slammed, and then fierce fingers grabbed my arm and spun me around. Hands pulled me down, and before I knew it, the blonde’s mouth was all over mine. I guess she’d changed her mind about the drink. Reaching down, I grabbed her ass and lifted her up. Like a python, she wrapped her legs around my waist and squeezed. It made it slightly uncomfortable to carry her, but I managed to make my way up the stairs.

The blonde was tearing off my clothes the second I set her down in my bedroom. Once my jacket and shirt were in a heap on the floor, she raked her fingernails over my stomach. My muscles clenched in response and she groaned. “Holy shit, you have hot abs. I just wanna lick ’em.”

She pushed me onto the bed and started to do just what she’d said. My eyes fluttered closed as the light flicks of her tongue sent shock waves of desire to my groin. Exercise was another release for me, something I did to clear my mind, shake out the cobwebs of bad memories that sometimes clung to the corners, refusing to leave me. As a result, I worked out quite a bit, and my body was lean and defined. Women loved that, so I was grateful for the sculpting side effects of my release.

When the blonde got to my pants, she didn’t even hesitate. She unzipped them, pulled them down, and kept right on going with her mouth. Sucking in a breath, I grabbed a fistful of her hair when she got to the sweet spot. Some girls didn’t like it when I held them in place. Some went nuts. The blonde moaned, sending stimulating vibrations down my cock.

When she was done tasting me, she pulled back. I opened my eyes to see her peering up at me with an expression full of passion, lust, and playfulness. For a brief second, I wondered what she really thought about me. Did she know anything about me besides my name and that I was in a band? Did she realize I screamed my heart out in my lyrics? Did she understand that my life left me feeling vacant inside? That I was so fucking lonely I almost couldn’t stand myself? Would she want to know any of that? Or was the fact that I was a “rock star” enough for her? Like it was for all the other girls I’d slept with.

What felt like five seconds later, we were both completely bare and I was exploring her body with my tongue. Feeling aggressive, my date rolled me over and took the top. That was fine; her hands on my body felt wonderful. Relaxing, I slowly gave myself over to the feeling of being physically attached to someone. I loved this part. The girl’s lips traveled down my body and her almost-silver hair tickled my skin; I loved that too. Without any rhyme or reason, she switched from flicking her tongue into my belly button to taking me into her mouth. Groaning, I grabbed a handful of the sheet as pure pleasure ignited me. My mind shut off, and I really started getting into this. When I could feel the buildup reaching an almost painful point, the girl stopped. I snapped my head up to stare at her. God, now she becomes a tease?


Eyes hooded, she licked her lips. “You are so fucking hot. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me, right now. Hard and fast.”

Direct and to the point. Okay. I was wound up enough that I could do both of those things. Pushing her over, I climbed on top of her. When I tried to pull away so I could grab a condom, she wrapped her legs around my hips, like she was going to work her way onto me. Geez, patience. I unwrapped her legs and she frowned; there was even a hint of a glare in her eyes.


While she squirmed and begged for me to hurry up, I opened a drawer on my nightstand. Condoms were one thing I was a stickler for. I’d rather not catch something, and I’d really like to avoid getting anyone pregnant. My very existence was the result of my mother cheating on my father, one of the many reasons why he’d detested me. Why Mom had hated me too. One bastard branch on my family tree was enough, so I always wrapped it up.

Grabbing one of the many square packages in there, I opened it and rolled the condom on before my date could complain too much more about my absence. When I drove into her, she wasn’t as tight as I liked, but she felt good… really good. When I entered her, she screamed my name. Literally. My ears rang. She was so ready for me that moving inside of her was a piece of cake. I gave her a deep thrust, sinking in as far as I could, and cringed as she screamed again. Was I really satisfying her so much that she couldn’t stifle the screaming?


“Yes, Kellan! Harder! Faster!”

She said it so loud I was sure everyone on my block could hear her. Maybe that was the point. As I pumped into her again and again, she wrapped her arms and legs around me. Feeling something even nicer than my impending climax, I buried my head into the crook of her neck. Her hand came up to gently tangle into my hair, and I finally felt it. That. That connection. That bond. That was what I wanted, what I liked, and I desperately tried to hold on to it. Let me feel this for just another minute…


“Harder, Kellan! Oh, God, you’re amazing! Fuck me! Yes, fuck me!”

The connection died away as her screams intensified. I tried to hold on to that intimate feeling, but I couldn’t; the moment was gone. Grunting, I dug in deeper and harder. Might as well get this over with. Her cries and moans turned almost theatrical, but I felt her walls tightening around me, so I knew she wasn’t completely faking. The tightness finally pushed me over the edge too.

“God, yes,” I murmured as I started coming. Fuck. For a split second as I released, I felt great. Everything about my life was perfect, all was right in the world. Then my orgasm ended, the feeling faded, and a darker emotion started filling the void.


Pulling out, I rolled over to my back. She was panting beside me, a satisfied expression on her face. “God, you’re just as amazing as they say.”

I glanced over at her. They say I’m amazing? Who are they exactly? “I’ll be right back.”


Standing up, I left my room, walked into the bathroom, and took off the condom. I knew I should feel amazing right now, but I felt strange. More incomplete. It was getting to be a familiar feeling, right after sex. Like waking up with a hangover, I always felt slightly crappier than I had before.

While I stared at myself in the mirror and debated my confusion, I heard my date stirring in my room. A second later, she popped out into the hallway, fully dressed. With a wistful sigh, she gazed at my lean, naked body. “God, if I had time, I would stay and totally do that again with you.” She shrugged. “I’ve got to get going though.” Stepping into the bathroom, she tossed her arms around me and gave me a hug. “I had a lot of fun. Thanks!” She kissed my shoulder, then swatted my bare bottom. “See you around, Kellan.” Giggling, she added, “I can’t believe I just had sex with Kellan Kyle.”

Turning, she practically skipped down the hall to the stairs. The front door opened and shut a minute later, and then a car started and pulled away. Still staring out the bathroom door, I whispered, “Bye,” into my empty hallway.

Returning my eyes to the mirror, I inhaled a deep breath. Disappointment flooded me; I should feel better than this. When I was younger, the euphoria from sex had stayed with me for a long time. Sometimes for days. Now, though… it faded almost instantly. Something was missing. I felt hollow and even lonelier than before the sex… and I had no idea what to do to change that.

Chapter 2

The walls of Evan’s loft reverberated with the power of our amplified instruments. Cymbals crashed while the snare drum tapped out a measured beat. Matt’s guitar squealed an intricate melody while Griffin’s bass provided a steady backdrop for us to paint our musical masterpiece upon.

Not holding back one ounce of my ability, I sang the intense chorus at a pitch that was at the upper crest of my range. I nailed it though. My voice harmonizing with the various rhythms circling our small stage gave me goose bumps. Near the end, the song reached an apex. All instruments were going full bore, hard and intense. Then it suddenly dropped off to complete silence. This was the hardest part of the song. For me at least. I had two lines to sing in that pin-dropping silence. There was no music to mask any potential flaws in my voice. No chance for a redo when I performed this live. It was just me, my voice, and hundreds of ears analyzing it. But I wasn’t worried in the slightest. There were very few things I was certain of in my life, and this was one of them. My voice wouldn’t let me down. It never did.

In the quiet of Evan’s loft, I sang my heart out. After the second line, Evan came back in with the drums. Easy at first, almost unnoticeable, but then building into a crescendo that complemented the intensity of my voice. As I ripped out the last of the four lines, the guys sang with me. Then every instrument kicked in again, even my acoustic guitar. The hairs were standing up on my arms as we finished the powerful song, and I was grinning ear to ear as the last note faded away. The fans were going to go crazy for this. It would definitely be on our set list for a long time to come.

Wondering if the guys felt the same, I twisted around to meet Matt’s and Evan’s faces. Matt was grinning just as widely as I was. Evan let out a low whistle. “Shit, man. That was awesome. I think it’s ready. We should play it Friday.”

I nodded in agreement. That was just what I’d been thinking. Removing his guitar, Matt set it on its stand and walked over to me. Eyeing me like a doctor observing a patient, he asked, “How’s your throat? That one too high for you? Too intense? We could drop it down a notch and I think it would still work.”

Testing the waters, I massaged my throat and swallowed a couple of times. “No, I feel fine.”

Matt squinted like he didn’t believe me. “We’re going to be singing this song hundreds of times. If you can’t recreate it perfectly each time, then we should modify it so you can. Consistency is what’s important. It doesn’t do us any good if this song fries you.”


My mouth blossomed into a smile at Matt’s equal concern for my well-being and the band’s sound. If it wasn’t for his tenacity, I had no doubt that we wouldn’t be half as good as we were. “I know that, Matt. Trust me, if I couldn’t do this, I would tell you. I know my voice; this song isn’t a problem.”

Seemingly satisfied, Matt finally smiled. “Good. ’Cause that seriously kicked ass.” He laughed, and I couldn’t help but laugh with him.

Gathering up my guitar, I he