Tristan?I thought I’d be excited to hear his name now that he’s back, but instead my stomach tightens, the name sending a shockwave of tension coursing through me. Memories flood in—echoes of laughter from our childhood twisting into arguments from the beach house. The way he snapped and ripped my shirt off in front of the guys to the way he twisted my lyrics until they were unrecognizable, the sound of his ultimate betrayal sharp enough to cut. My heart races, a drumbeat of anxiety thrumming in my chest.
I shake my head, not sure I’m ready to hear what he has to say, but Nash takes that as an answer.
“You don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for. He can wait the rest of his life for all I care. I only wanted you to know he has a reason for not being here in person.” His fingers tuck a loose strand behind my ear, then cups his hand along the side of my head, guiding me to rest on his chest. The pressure he uses is so minute that it doesn’t strain my neck at all.
The instant understanding of everything I’ve been through, of knowing how deep my wounds are and refusing to pressure me means the world.
I think about it, a war waging in my mind between two sides of myself. Memories flash across my mind—his laughter, the way he used to look at me like I was the only one in the room, and then the silence. The cold, hollow space his absence left inside me. It was suffocating, a fog I’ve been clawing my way out of ever since.
Then I think about how he’s been from the moment he stepped back into my life. Mean and brutal. A man I barely recognized until suddenly he was back before he was ripped out of my life once more. Ineedto know what happened…
But at the same time, fear coils tighter around my throbbing throat. What if stepping through that door reopens the scars I’vetried so hard to heal? Unresolved issues with Tristan swirl in my mind like a storm, chaotic and disorienting.
What’s a little more pain?
I can handle it.
Right?
Still holding Nash’s phone, my finger hovers over the unlocked screen.I only have to listen, I don’t have to open my heart to him. It’s a lie I tell myself, because deep down, I know. He’ll always own a piece of me.
With a press of my thumb, the phone rings. It seems like a lifetime passes, but he picks up after the first one, like he was sitting there staring at his phone hoping I’d call him.
“Hello? Nash? Is she there? Lexi?” His uncertain voice wraps around me.
“Yeah, she’s here, man. Still can’t talk, but she’s holding strong.” Nash smiles down at me, pride in his gaze. “She’s so fucking brave.”
I’m not sure that’s the word I’d use. Brave? Not even a little. I thought I’d die alone at the hands of my uncle’s minion.
Stubborn is more like it. Unwilling to leave my men when I’ve just found my happiness again.
“She’s always been a fighter,” Tristan muses. “Hey, Lexi,” he croons using a soothing tone like he wants to comfort me, but at the same time he thinks I might bolt at any second. “I know you can’t speak right now, but do you think we could video call so I can at least see your reactions?”
I should’ve done that in the first place. Lord knows I wear my emotions on my face when I’m around those I’m comfortable with…
“There she is,” he breathes out when the video connects us. “You look comfortable there.” His eyes seem to trace over where I remain, resting my head on Nash’s chest. There’s a gleam therethat says he wishes it was his instead. And once upon a time it would’ve been.
“I know I owe you an explanation for where I went. I want to tell everyone at once if it’s okay, but I also want to do it in person.” His piercing blue eyes reach for me through the screen. He bites his lip, and I zero in on it. I’m helpless to remember the sensation of kissing him, the way it unraveled me so completely.
“Everyone was here yesterday aside from Darius, and you were with him. You had a chance then to do it, you could’ve come here with us,” Nash says, making a very valid point that I probably would’ve come up with myself if I wasn’t so distracted.
Tristan’s gaze moves to his friend and seems to barely hold off from rolling his eyes. “Thanks for the assist, man. I already told everyone else, but I didn’t want to show up in person without your permission. I was a fool, Lexi. I fucked up so bad and I know I need to earn your trust again. And to do that, I can’t force myself on you. I can’t make you forgive me. This is on your timeline, if ever.”
He takes a deep breath as emotion washes over his face—the deepest sadness I’ve ever seen, hatred at himself, desperation, and the draining of his hope at thinking I very well might never forgive him.
“Can I see you in person? Please, Lexi?”
The wheels of Raina’s wheelchair squeak softly against the linoleum floor, accompanied by the many shoes from the band, a sound that seems to echo in the sterile hallway. I walk beside her, my heart pounding in a rhythm I’d have trouble keeping up with on my kit.
Izzy walked us through the plan, but knowing exactly what we’re doing doesn’t seem to help. I want to scoop Raina into my arms and carry her out of here and onto the bus, protecting her with my body instead of letting her appear weak and exhausted in a fucking wheelchair. Hospital policy, my ass.
It doesn’t help that the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead illuminate the bruises on her neck like a fucking spotlight—dark splotches in the vague shape of two hands against her porcelain skin. They scream for attention. And within a few moments, they’ll get all the attention they want.
I fucking hate this plan.
Raina still seems to somehow glow. I can’t look away from her, even as she takes a deep breath, bracing herself for what’s tocome. Her eyes burn with a fierce determination, but they’re also clouded with pain.
As we reach the entrance, chaos erupts. The door slides open, and the flash of cameras blind us like lightning strikes. “Raina! How are you feeling?” A swarm of voices clamors, desperate for any morsel of information. “Is it true your boyfriend Darius attacked you? What happened?”
