I hold my hands up and shrug my shoulders at a complete loss. “Wait to hear what the lawyers say?” I hesitantly suggest, my voice thick with the uncertainty that has enveloped me.
Blake’s bow slips on the strings, causing a dissonant chord to hang in the air. It’s as if it mimics the jagged edges of my emotions—raw, exposed, and uncertain. “There has to be something we can do.”
Nash’s hand squeezes mine tighter. His knuckles are white and strained, but he doesn’t let go.Does he feel as helpless as I do?
“That motherfucker better hope he doesn’t cross paths with me,” Nash growls, the veins in his neck straining against his skin, and Keaton grunts in agreement. It’s an empty threat and we all know it, but I appreciate their need to make it, anyway.
“I wouldn’t mind giving him a piece of my mind either,” Blake murmurs under his breath.
It’s easy for me to know how broken and upset I am about my song being stolen, but with how consumed I’ve been about it, I failed to realize how angry the guys are. It became their song too, not to mention how their feelings for me would affect how much they want to protect me from going through this.
“Let’s not start planning revenge just yet,” I caution, meeting Darius’ gaze across the room. He’s been uncharacteristically silent through all of this, sitting on the couch and studying us with those vivid eyes of his.
I can’t decipher his thoughts or feelings. But there’s an uneasiness in his posture that wasn’t there before. Is he worried about what might happen next? Or is he simply biding his time?
We haven’t addressed his riff being used,yet…
“We need to make sure we don’t inspire any other desires for retaliation. Lie low and wait. Get through the tour and give him one final album, then I’m free.” I reach for the coffee on the table in front of me and take a sip, immediately regretting it. I make a face and slowly set it down, glaring at it.
One more betrayal to add to the list—it’s fucking cold.
“No,” Darius says, finally breaking his silence. He pushes off the wall and steps into the middle of the room, the pinch of his eyes expressing how serious he is. “That’s not enough, Raina. We need to fight this prick.”
My heart stutters. I want to be angry at him about the riff, but part of me also desperately needs him on my side right now. His confidence is like an anchor in the stormy sea that my life has become. It’s why I haven’t asked him yet; I can’t handle any disloyalty on top of everything else.
Blake’s melody softly changes, the mournful notes transforming into something more hopeful, echoing Darius’ words. And I cling to it like a lifeline, letting it seep into me and bolster my sinking spirit.
“Fight how?” I ask, my voice small, almost drowned by the music. But he hears me because who wouldn’t hear that fear underlying those two words. I hate how I cower at the thought of pissing Dickless off even more.
“By standing together and not letting him bully us into doing what he wants,” Darius replies, his gaze penetrating mine. “By showing everyone what they’ve done to you… to us.”
Nash growls next to me, not liking Darius’ assertiveness in this situation. He gives him a glare before focusing on me once more. His hand squeezes mine, like he’s trying to hold me to his side. “We shouldn’t do anything without consulting the PR team. You’re right, we should hold off on doing anything at all until legal gets back to us.”
Blake’s bow halts on the strings, leaving a hollow silence that echoes through the room. He looks at me, concern carving creases into his forehead. “Raina, I hate to disagree with Nash, but we can’t just… wait.”
“I don’t know what else to do!” I explode, all the pent-up anguish pouring out of me like water from a burst dam. “I feel so helpless. I’m in the middle of my tour, my song gets stolenby some two-bit pop star who’s using it to climb charts, and my uncle...” My voice catches at the mention of Dickless. The breach of trust and wave of betrayal makes me shudder, making it all the worse by the reminder of our familial connection.
The room falls silent again. Darius purses his lips, his eyes almost apologetic. But it’s Nash’s reaction that’s most visible; every muscle in his body tenses as if anticipating a fight. He doesn’t say anything though, probably because he doesn’t know how to make any of this better.
Keaton slips in and pushes a reluctant Nash out of his way. He sits in front of me and cups my face between his hands, forcing me to focus on him and him alone.
My drummer has always had the ability to make the world around us fade out of existence.
“I love you,” he confesses, the smoothness of his voice curling around me like a warm hug, yet at the same time his words smack into me, threatening to lay me out on my back. It’s so fucking unexpected.
Do you believe the truth of it?he says with the tilt of his head, his eyes searching me for the answer.
“I do,” I croak. From the corner of my eye, I find Darius tilting his head, the question clear in his face, wondering what he missed since our spoken words don’t work well together.
“You’ve already broken out of your shell, taking a path of showing your fans who you are. Now it’s time for you to decide.” His thumbs caress the curve of my cheek and I itch to get closer to him. To wrap myself in his protective hold where I know nothing else can reach me. I’m safe there.
“Decide what?” I ask, but I think deep down I know.
“Are you willing to fight against the darkness trying to get you down, or are you going to cower in its shadow?”
Keaton’s words run through my head for the millionth time. It’s no wonder he started off with expressing the depth of his feelings for me, because he smacked me over the head with his tough love.
I couldn’t answer him because I didn’t know the answer. He wasn’t wrong about me cowering. I’ve done it from the very first time Dickless ran his hand up my thigh and asked me to sit on his lap.
