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“Healing.”

“The artist still hate you?”

My eyes flick toward the shared wall before I can stop them, and that’s all Conlin needs. His expression shifts immediately.

I point at him. “Whatever you’re about to say, keep it to yourself.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Lachlin looks between us, already interested. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing.”

“Ruby,” Conlin supplies, leaning back against the counter.

Lachlin’s mouth starts to curve. “The tattoo artist?”

“And neighbor,” Conlin adds.

That only makes Lachlin look more entertained, so I drop into the chair near the front window and take a drink of my beer. Ruby’s car isn’t there when I glance outside, and her porch is empty.

Conlin catches it. “She not home?”

I look back at him. “How would I know?”

“You just checked.”

“I looked out the window.”

I take another drink and turn my attention back to Lachlin before either of them can decide there’s more to discuss. “You have a five-day-old baby. Don’t you have something better to do?”

“This is the first entertainment I’ve had all week that doesn’t involve bodily fluids.”

Conlin nearly spits out his beer, then Lachlin’s phone buzzes before he can say whatever was coming next. He checks the screen and immediately smiles.

“Briar sent a picture.”

Lachlin turns the phone around, and Jack is asleep against Briar’s chest with one tiny fist tucked under his chin and the deepest crease between his eyebrows I’ve ever seen on a newborn.

Conlin squints at the screen. “He already has your frown.”

“He’s asleep,” Lachlin says.

“Doesn’t mean he looks happy about it.”

By the time they leave, the Ruby conversation has been forgotten, which is exactly how I want it. At least until the house goes quiet again and I catch myself looking toward the window.

Ruby gets home a little after seven. I know because I hear her front door close, not because I’m listening for it. The walls are thin. There’s a difference.

I make dinner, answer a few messages from the band, and spend almost an hour working on the song we rehearsed this morning. Ruby stays quiet on her side.

Eventually, temptation wins. I plug in the guitar.

I don’t turn it up enough to genuinely piss her off, just enough that she’ll hear it. Then I play the opening of something I know she’ll hate.

I make it through maybe twenty seconds before one solid knock hits the wall. I smile.

“Any requests?” I call.