Jumping to my feet, I cross the room in a blink of an eye. I don’t have time to think anything through; I’m simply acting. Needing to do something before I lose my fucking mind.
Darius only has time to widen his eyes before I’m fisting his shirt, pinning him to the wall. His hands grip my wrists, working to pry me off, but I won’t be dissuaded.
“Did you do it, Darius?” I growl, baring my teeth. “Did you fucking hurt my girl?”
In the background, Blake’s cello falters, echoing my rage in a discordant note. Keaton pushes off the counter, taking a few steps to make sure he’s between Raina and us, always protecting her.
Darius gulps, the bobbing of his throat a stark contrast to the stillness in the room. He tries to squirm out of my grip, but I tighten my hold, anger roaring through me like a wild beast that refuses to be tamed.
“What are you fucking on about, mate? I’d never,” he objects, shaking his head vehemently.
My heart pounds violently against my chest as I stare into his eyes. I want to find some sign of guilt. I want to see remorse. But all I see is terror. It confuses me, makes me hold on tighter because fear could also mean guilt.
“Then how did it happen?” I snarl, my voice shrill with accusation. “Because I’d love to hear any other theories.”
“Nash!” Raina’s voice is sharp, pulling me away from Darius. “He didn’t do it. At least not the stolen lyrics.”
It feels like I’ve been underwater and have finally stuck my head through the surface. Not because I want to, but because I need to take a breath. Well, in this case, share the truth of what I realized. I can’t have Nash falsely accusing Darius.
My admission has every eye on me, but it’s Blake who responds. “What do you mean?” His voice is soft and encouraging.
“Keep playing?” I ask. There’s nothing like the deep, haunting sounds of his cello. It’s spoken to my soul from the very first time I’ve heard it, and it’s honestly the only thing making me feel the slightest bit better.
His bow glides over the strings, bringing the peace I need to start bandaging my broken heart. Taking in a deep breath, I hold a hand out for Nash. He’s clearly not doing well, and I don’t need to risk him.
My sweet bass player glances between me and Darius, giving me the distinct impression he’s battling with letting go of him,like he doesn’t want to pass up on the opportunity of hurting someone who hurt me.
“Nash.” Saying his name seems to do the trick. He releases Dare without a second glance, crossing the few feet it takes to get to me. He softly grabs my hand, and I guide him into sitting next to me.
Darius doesn’t move from the wall, and I don’t like him being behind me at all. Not because I’m worried about what he’ll do, but because I want to look him in the eye during this conversation. I want to know if at any time he looks guilty.
“You too,” I call, gesturing to him with my hand to sit where I can see him. He settles on the other side of the L-shaped couch, and I take a moment to enjoy Blake’s music. It seems to be the only thing truly keeping me grounded.
I’m surprised everyone remains silent. Well, except for Keaton. He’s always silent. But even he isn’t acting like himself. He hasn’t twirled his sticks or tapped them against anything all morning. I might have been wallowing in my sadness, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t know every movement my guys made.
The sad notes of Blake’s playing fill the room, creating a mournful melody that mirrors my own heart. I close my eyes, letting it wash over me.
When I open them, Nash’s gaze is locked on me, his fists clenched in his lap as if he’s doing his best to not punch the shit out of Darius. He’s ready to fight for me, but he’s focused on the wrong culprit, and this isn’t a battle that will be won with fists and threats.
“Last night as she was…” I trail off, my mind going back to that moment, remembering the way pain lashed into me as if she was wielding a whip. It hurt so much more than what Tristan did.
The song she stole was born out of my darkest depths of rock bottom. At least the way Tris twisted my lyrics was personal between the two of us. This is purely an attack of the mostdeplorable kind. You don’t go poaching someone else’s songs like a fucking pirate.
Shaking off the thought, I skip over the rest, knowing they can fill it in and start with the important bit. “Dickless was on the other side of the stage. He implied it’s because I didn’t do the duet like he wanted, but I think that’s an excuse he used to hurt me. Like I could’ve stopped this if I did what he wanted.”
I draw my knees up and wrap my arms around my legs, resting my chin on my knees. “Do you remember when my parents showed up at the beach house? After they left, I found my notebook in a different place than I remember leaving it.”
A sad sigh huffs out of me. I know the damage was already done at that point, and I can’t change anything, but I still wish there was something I could do. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time. But he must’ve found it and took pictures.”
I should’ve done a better job of protecting something so special to me, but I was in my safe space.
“That asshole walked into our house, and for all intents and purposes, ripped out a page in your diary like he owned the place?” At least it’s nice to see Nash’s anger where it’s deserved.
If I wasn’t so buried in sadness, I’d even feel a warm ball of happiness in my chest with him calling it our house, even if it’s mine. I love how Nash always inserts himself into my life like he’s been here all along.
“It’s probably safe to say he stole more than the one song. They didn’t produce it overnight. It takes time to write the song and get all the parts recorded.”
“So what’s the plan, then?” Blake asks, his bow continuing to slide across the strings of his instrument.
