“Much,” I nod as I lean back in the chair. Finally, the noise starts to settle, and I can think.
“So, what’s the plan now that you’ve ditched the losers?”
“I’ve told you before not to call them that. Don’t make me tell you again.” Warning him is a regular part of our interactions. I don’t know why I waste my breath. He’s never going to stop, and aside from the occasional bloody nose, I’m not going to do anything.
“Whatever, Maddox. Are you at least going to tell me what plan that big brain of yours has come up with?”
“To get as far away from them as possible. They don’t need me anymore.”
“They never needed you, Mads. You’re a fucking train wreck.”
He’s not wrong. They never needed me, but I still felt like it was my job to take care of them. To make sure they were all okay. Now they’ve all found success and love and happiness. Now I know they’ll be okay.
Truthfully, I’ve caused them more worry than anything, but I’ve tried. I’ve tried to take care of them. If I haven’t done anything right, I’ve made good business choices for the band. They’ll all be taken care of long after the music dies.
“I can’t leave them without an explanation.” Now that the noise isn’t so loud, I know I need to tell them something. I can’t leave them hanging like that. Ryder would never get over it, and he’s been through enough. And Dane, ever the big brother, would wonder if he could have done more. Angel and Jake, I’m not sure they’d keep with the band, wondering how they missed the signs.
Then there’s my River City family. What a fucking rocky start that was. What started as just Zoey has evolved over the years. I don’t want Zoey blaming herself. Hell, I don’t even want Jax to blame himself, though I doubt he would. And I need Bastian to know I don’t really hate him.
I’m repeating myself a lot. Even in my head. It’s like a broken record.
“I don’t know where to start,” I admit to Bryan. “I don’t know who to start with.”
“Why do you need to tell them anything at all? Let’s just blow.”
“I won’t do that to the people I love. That love me. I need them to understand me.”
“They won’t give a fuck, man. How many times do I got to tell you, they don’t care about you? They just want you for your talent and money.”
I laugh at that. He’s always thought that. Which is so damn stupid. Not one of them needs my money. Jake didn’t grow up wealthy, but the rest did. And my talent? Honestly, I get tired of hearing how great I am when the others are just as talented. They don’t need me. Not my money or my so-called talent.
“What made you so jaded, Bry? I’ve known you my entire life, but you’ve never told me.” I think about it and realize I don’t even think I’ve met his parents. I’ve known him since I was four, but he was always at my house. I never went to his house, but then again, I never went to anyone’s house after my grandfather died.
“I’m not jaded, Mads. I’m real. The most real motherfucker you’ve ever known.”
I’m broken
Present Day
Thump. Thump.
The sound of a ball bouncing on the wall grates my nerves. My current fix has done little to stop my mind from running back to that curly-haired angel whose heart I broke. The look of devastation in her eyes from two nights ago will haunt me forever.
I wish I didn’t have to do it. I wanted nothing more than to mend her broken heart. Of course, I didn’t intend for her to fall in love with me. I damn sure didn’t expect to fall in love with her. I never believed I’d find that person that was completely meant for me. I thought I’d spend my life never knowing how to love anyone but Ryder and Zoey.
Whiskey eyes and lullabies.
That’s what she was. Those eyes floored me the minute they connected with mine in Bastian’s kitchen. They carried depth and beauty and so much soul with a single glance. I could see her pain, feel her hurt, but more than all of that was the hope that shined through. Beyond the insecurities and the painful shyness was always hope even though she had no reason to believe it.
Three months ago
I walk into the living room my first night back at Bastian’s after ten days in the basement of Diamond Industries going through hell. My body still aches, but the most aggressive part of withdrawals is behind me. For now.
My steps falter when I notice a figure curled into the corner of the black leather sofa. A halo of golden curls practically glows in the moonlight. I ignore the noise buzzing in my ears when I see her shoulders shake slightly as she softly sobs into the throw pillow she’s clutching.
Logic says I should go back to my room, but I can’t. I can’t leave someone who’s very obviously hurting. Especially not when it’s like her spirit is calling mine. Maybe that’s what brought me from my room in the first place since I suddenly can’t remember why I came out.
I keep my steps light as I move closer to where she’s sitting,then clear my throat, so she knows I’m there. She looks up at me, her eyes shining with tears while stains of the fallen trail down her face. Her cheeks and nose are red and blotchy from crying.
