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“I can’t hold him,” Dylan mutters as he strains against me.
Cash steps in front of me and together with Dylan they herd me out of the kitchen to the living room where they push me onto the sofa.
“What the hell is going on?” Gibson asks.
“Someone’s a fucking idiot,” Cash says.
Jett snorts. “Tell us something we don’t know.”
I surge from the couch but Dylan sits on me to stop me from attacking Jett.
“I’m going to kill him.”
“No one’s killing anyone,” Dylan says.
Gibson raises his hand. “Can someone explain for the kids in the back of the class?”
Cash points to me and I growl at him. “I’m assuming Fender found out Leia took a pregnancy test and promptly lost his mind.”
“Leia’s pregnant?” Gibson grins. “Congrats, big man.”
“Not pregnant,” I growl.
“She took a bunch of tests because she was late but she’s not pregnant,” Cash explains.
“Poor Leia. How is she?” Jett asks.
I grunt. “She’s a liar.”
Jett’s brow wrinkles. “Liar? What did she lie about?”
My nostrils flare. “She’s just like Vicki.”
Gibson gasps. “Did she say she was pregnant when she wasn’t?”
“No.”
Jett glares at me. “Did you accuse Leia of being Vicki?”
“She is just like Vicki.”
He stomps toward me. “I’m going to kick your ass.”
Gibson is right behind him. “I’m in.”
I look to Dylan. He’s usually the one who calms everyone down, but he doesn’t move. “You made your bed. Time to lie in it.”
“Fender,” Cash begins. “Leia is nothing like Vicki. Why would you accuse her of being Vicki?”
“Because she is. She’s trying to trap me.”
Jett fists his hands. “Seriously. Let me kick his ass.”
I snort. “You can try.”
He motions to Gibson standing behind him, Cash next to him, and Dylan beside me. “It’s four against one. The odds are in my favor.”
I scan the faces of my bandmates, my friends, my family. They’re all looking at me with disappointment. What the fuck? They’re supposed to be on my side.
