Three chords can ruin a man if you hit them right.I spend my life chasing sound. Grit, feedback, the moment a crowd holds its breath.
Fireball is the only thing I’ve built without it turning on me. Everything else stays locked tight.
Then Linus O’Donnell comes back.
I lie. I stall. I pretend control is possible.
Some harmonies refuse to stay hushed.
Hushed Harmony is a white-hot, polyamorous rockstar romance about identity, obsession, and choosing a love powerful enough to risk everything.
Prologue
Liam – Present Day
I shouldn’t have come.
This was the conversation I had with myself on the flight.
And again, when the taxi crossed river Liffey and the Dublin skyline came into view.
I’ve never been here. This is a city I’ve spent years avoiding. Until a few months ago, my band Fireball had never played in Ireland at all. I made sure of it. Always found a reason to avoid it.
Too many ghosts.
Too much history I wasn’t ready to deal with.
A few days ago, Linus messaged.
Simple. Polite.
If you’re passing through Dublin when you’re done with the European tour, maybe let’s talk.
Fuck.
I’ve spent what seems like a million years chasing the rockstar dream with my twin brother Padraig. Living out of vans. Crashing on floors. Putting out music. Bleeding for every gig. He should’ve walked years ago to follow the girl he loved. He didn’t because I needed him to stay.
I live with the guilt every fucking day.
Our once-close family is a mess. After a car accident, Da turned into a bitter, misogynistic drunk. Gambled the family money. Drove the business into the ground.
Oh, and he nearly killed me.
Apparently, none of this was bad enough for my ma to leave him.
My oldest brother Connor gave up everything when the old man went down. Quit college. Took over the business. Raised the rest of my brothers like a second father. Now he’s the bass player in Less Than Zero, the biggest band in the world.
This summer, he gave Fireball a much-needed boost by giving us the opening time slot on their European tour. We were able to fill in the gaps with a slew of festival gigs.
We killed it, but in true Fireball form our lead singer quit and now we’re back to the fucking drawing board.
Once again, the band is teetering. Padraig won’t say the words, but I see it in his eyes. He’s almost out.
He’s always followed my lead, trusting my determination to make us a success even when he’s wanted something else. Now, we’re back to square one, and he may not have it in him to continue.
I don’t blame him. Without a stable front person, we’re probably chasing something already dead.
The thing is, I’ve poured my entire life into this band and can’t give up on us yet. Abandoning the only steady thing I’ve ever had isn’t an option.
I understand loss. I’ve fucked my way around the world to try to quell the grief. Men. Women. Whatever would help me forget the only person I’ve ever given my heart to.
Linus O’Donnell.
My college love. He managed the band. Believed in us and the music when few others did. We were working our way up when his visa expired and he returned home to Ireland. I didn’t ask him to stay. Fight for him when it counted.
At the time, I convinced myself I didn’t deserve to have love when my brother gave up his.
I’ve purposely stayed away as both penance and punishment.
Until now.
Goddammit.
He’s gonna break me all over again.
I’m a self-destructive motherfucker.
It’s the end of the business day. I’m sitting in a café in the heart of the city, I pretend the coffee in front of me is worth drinking. The place is quiet, warm, and full of people typing or reading or staring at their phones. My leg won’t stop bouncing.
The door opens.
Linus steps in, shakes off the drizzle, looks around and spots me instantly.
He glides through the room like temptation in human form. Button-down snug across his chest, sleeves rolled barely enough to expose the tattooed edges of his forearms. Slacks hug his hips like they are a custom fit. His dark hair is longer now and a thick beard covers his square jaw.
He doesn’t try to be hot. He just is. My cock stiffens the second I see him.
Always has. Always will.
When he catches my eye and smiles, tentative and crooked, my stomach lurches.
I’m done for.
He walks over, calm as ever, and I stand without thinking.
“Liam.”
“Hey.”
He slides into the seat across from me and sets his phone face down on the table. No handshake. No small talk. Unflappable fucking composure, considering.
For an impossibly long moment, neither of us speaks.
Two grown men pretending we don’t remember how it felt to share air like this. To frot our cocks together, desperate and leaking. To love each other so fiercely it nearly destroyed both of us.
He breaks first. “You look tired, so you do.”
“Tour ended yesterday.” I lean back and cross my arms protectively over my chest.
“Youse headin’ home soon?”
“A few days.” I relax a bit. “Padraig’s up at Connor’s new Belfast estate. Helpin’ him get it ready for his famous girlfriend.”
He nods. “Wow. An estate in Belfast. Sounds like a true rockstar move.”
“Aye.” I look out the window. It’s challenging to maintain eye contact with the one man who owns you.
Silence again.
I glance at his hands. Strong. Capable. Once they explored every part of my body. “Congratulations, by the way. Seems like you’re livin’ the dream. Isis Management’s a big deal.”
“Thank you, it’s doing well. Movin’ operations to LA soon.” He doesn’t take his goddamn eyes off me. We both know we’re not here to talk business.
“Avonna seems to be the magic sauce.” I don’t mean to bring up his client and I certainly don’t mean for it to come out so sexual. Like I’m already thinking about her mouth on my cock.
But hell. I am who I am.
The woman is a fucking knockout. Voice like velvet and razorblades. The deep pain behind her eyes makes you wanna fuck her and protect her in the same breath. She played a few of the same festivals with us this summer. Lit the place on fire and walked off stage like it was routine.
She’s unreal. Exactly my type.
“She is.” He smirks. He knows exactly what I’m thinking. “One of the best voices I’ve ever heard.”
“I agree.” I nod too enthusiastically. “She’s special.”
“Aye. Special,” he repeats, eyes fixed on me. “You like her.”
It isn’t a question.
I shift in my seat. “Well sure, she’s talented.”
“Not what I meant.” He leans forward slightly, studying my face.
I stare into my cup. “You want honesty?”
“Always.”
“Yeah. I’m attracted to her. Probably too much. We had some good chats on the road.” I think back to the handful of times she and I had an opportunity to visit in between our sets.
What I don’t say is, other than the man in front of me, she’s the only other person I’ve instantly connected with on an otherworldly level.
“Do you wanna fuck her?” The words hit like a punch.
I choke on the air in my throat. “Jesus, Linus.”
“Do you?” His gaze doesn’t waver.
I drag a hand through my hair. “Fer fuck’s sake. You manage her. She’s magnetic. Gorgeous. I can’t be the only one.”
“There’s a lot more to Avonna than what men want from her.” He clasps his fingers together and leans forward.
Instantly, I feel like a dick. “Uh…I know. I, uh, didn’t mean…”
“Why’d you come here, Liam?” He stares into my eyes.
I hold his gaze, heart pounding. “You asked.”
Emotions flicker across his face. Surprise. Relief. Pain.
I exhale. “We saw each other a few times this summer. You barely spoke to me. When you texted, I couldn’t ignore it this time.”
“Liam. I’ve reached out dozens of times over the years.“ He winces, finally showing his emotional cards. “You ignored every outreach.”
“I know.” I scrub my chin with my fist and cast my eyes down.
His jaw wobbles. “I thought we meant somethin’.”
“We meant everything.”
“You broke me.” He shakes his head, more weary than angry.
The words land heavy. I don’t try to deny them. “I broke me too.”
The quiet between us strains with everything unsaid. Dozens of people bustle past the window. Somewhere behind the counter, an espresso machine hisses.
I meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“For which part?” Linus leans back and folds his arms.
“All of it.”
He shakes his head. “Do you think saying sorry fixes it?”
“No.”
“Then why bother?”
“It’s true.”
He studies me for a long time, like he’s trying to find the man he used to love inside the one sitting across from him. Maybe he regrets inviting me to Dublin. Maybe he hopes I’ll walk out the door and never look back.
Maybe he’s daring me to stay.
“I hated you for givin’ up on us,” he says finally.
“I know.”
He swallows. “Still do, some days.”
“I deserve it.”
He nods. “Aye. You do.”
We sit there for another prolonged silence. Two ghosts in a city filled with history and war and heartbreak far worse than ours. I don’t know what I thought this would be. Closure? Forgiveness? Maybe I wanted proof he and I were once real.
When he finally speaks again, his voice is softer. “You didn’t have to come.”
“I did,” I insist. “You invited me.”
“Curiosity isn’t the same as closure.” He bites his lip, probably to avoid saying more.
I call his bluff. “Well, then, why did you text?”
He holds my gaze for a long time, something shifts behind his expression.
Hurt. Longing. Restraint.
“I wanted to see if there’s anything left.”
“And?” My blood pressure spikes.
He arches an eyebrow. “Still figurin’ it out.”
We both laugh under our breath. It’s not funny, but it’s real.
“I’ve missed this,” I admit.
He looks down. “Which part?”
“All of it.”
This earns me the faintest smile. Gone before I can memorize it.
Outside, the rain gets heavier. Inside, it feels like we’re both teetering at the edge of something we never finished. Neither of us moves to leave. Neither of us asks for more coffee.
We sit here in a buffalo stance. Two versions of the same wound.
I shouldn’t have come.
But, realistically, I never had a choice
Linus thankfully changes the subject. “So. How’s Padraig?”
I glance out the window. “Same. One foot in, one foot gone. He swears he’s quittin’ every six months, but he never does.”
“Still loyal.”
“Still pissed.”
“At you?”
I shake my head. “At himself.”
Linus watches me, unreadable. I go on. “He had everything once. A great love. Someone to grow old with. Now he’s only got me and a rockstar dream he never wanted.”
“Not true. He always intended on doing this with you.” He nearly reaches for my hand, but visibly restrains himself.
“It’s complicated,” I concede. “He loves makin’ music with me but doesn’t enjoy the rest of it. The grind. The instability. We’ve lost three singers. Koko was the best of them. She lasted the longest.”
Linus tilts his head. “So, it’s true? Is she really gone?”
“Yep. Left after the last show.” I wince. “Got a solo deal.”
“Timing is terrible. You’re finally on the mainstream charts.” Linus furrows his brow.
“Yeah, well, she wants her own thing. Said the band didn’t feel sustainable.”
“Is it?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Depends who you ask. To me, Fireball is all I’ve dreamed of. To Padraig, it’s all he’s got. Truthfully, we’re taking a short break to regroup.”
Linus nods slowly. “Wow. Heavy.”
“Yeah.”
“Will he walk away?”
“Ach, no. Probably not on his own accord.” I keep my eyes fixed on Linus’ strong hands before I flick my eyes up to his. “Maybe I should let him.”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to.
Then he says, carefully, “So you’re in Dublin to patch holes.”
I exhale. “Aye. I suppose I am.”
The shift is subtle, but I feel it. The weight of everything unsaid pulls the air tighter between us.
Things we didn’t finish. Lingering feelings.
I remember the last time I touched him. Boarding pass in his hand. My heart clogged with grief. The frantic way he kissed me. Held me so tightly like he never wanted to let go.
Now we’re here. The past bleeding forward, asking if we still matter.
We do.
God, we do.
I feel the tether between us. Tenser than it has any right to be.
He finishes his coffee and leans back. “I’m a few blocks away.”
I nod.
He doesn’t say come over. He stands, trusting I’ll follow.
I do.
We walk without touching. Like our bodies are afraid of remembering too fast.
By the time we get to his building, I don’t know if I want to kiss him or punch him.
Maybe both.
He opens the door, steps aside to let me in.
I cross the threshold and feel it. The weight of the years. Breath catching before something breaks.
I turn toward him.
Neither of us speaks.
It’s not awkward.
It’s inevitable.
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When she was only 15, Kaylene Winter wrote her first rocker romance novel starring a fictionalized version of herself, her friends and their gorgeous rocker boyfriends. After living her own rockstar life as a band manager, music promoter and mover and shaker in Seattle during the early 1990’s, Kaylene became a digital media legal strategist helping bring movies, television and music online. Throughout her busy career, Kaylene lost herself in romance novels across all genres inspiring her to realize her life-long dream to be a published author. She lives in Seattle with her amazing husband and dog. She loves to travel, throw lavish dinner parties and support charitable causes supporting arts and animals.
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