Page 110 of Anthem of Love and Loathing

I crawl back to her. Reach for her hand. “Kelsey, I—"

She snatches it away from me. Crossing her arms, she stands. “What’s worse is that you didn’t fight for me. Not when Carmine made it impossible for me to get a job in the industry. Or outside of it. Every single time I finally convinced someone to hire me, I’d get a couple of weeks in, and my new boss would hear a rumor and decide it was best to let me go.”

I’ve been hurt and lost since she left. Hating her for stealing from me, for almost damaging the band’s upward trajectory, and walking away like we were nothing. Assuming she was fine. Assuming she deserved whatever came her way. I was wrong. Possibly about everything.

She collects her pajamas. Shimmies into the shorts and yanks the tank top over her head. “You didn’t want me enough to fight for me. You let me go like I meant nothing. Like I was another groupie in a long line of groupies. I was fighting for us when I punched Sonatina. I was fighting for us from the minute she showed up at that concert. And you acted like I was going crazy. Like I was the problem. I would have fought for us after her if you’d chosen me. I would have forgiven you then.”

She sobs as she turns her face away, like she can’t stomach to look at me.

“I am never going to regret anything more than not fighting for you.” Even though she put L.A. Riot in jeopardy, I could have played the whole situation differently. “I should have stayed clear of Sonatina.”

Her gaze is brutal. Full of animosity. “It doesn’t matter. It’s too late. It doesn’t negate the last couple of years. I had to sell my car and most of my things. I had no idea how I was going to afford to have a baby. But I was going to love her enough for both of us. I was going to find a way to make it work. You took her away from me. I would not have been on that street, in that spot, if it hadn’t been for you. You can never give her back to me.”

She rushes out of the room.

I can’t get off the floor. Can’t breathe. Can barely stand being in my own skin. All this time I’ve been hating her... I should have been hating myself. I can’t fix this. I can’t change the past. I can’t undo sleeping with Sonatina. I can’t bring back our child.

I can’t ask her to stay... what can I do? Is there even a way to earn her forgiveness? Do I let her go? Let her try to find happiness elsewhere? No. I can’t do that either.

Fuck.

38

Kelsey

This tour with L.A. Riot is exactly the bad idea I thought it would be. Riot thinks he can make things better with a few words, an apology, and his cock. But nothing between us can ever be good again.

I run into the bathroom and close the door. Lock it and slide down to the floor. I hurt him tonight. Good. He deserves it.

Nothing in my life will ever be okay again. My life ended the day Harlowe died. I tried to pretend that wasn’t the case, but I just keep going through the motions.

What’s the point anymore?

I can’t move on. I can’t forgive him. I’m barely surviving. And now Marco is after me and the last place I want to be is stuck on a bus with the man who shattered my heart into a million tiny shards.

I’m done.

Curling into the fetal position on the cold tiles, I bury my face in my hands and cry until I can’t anymore. Until my face is numb and my head hurts. It’s still nothing compared to the pain in my chest.

What am I even holding on for? Why am I still pretending I am strong?

I drag myself up from the floor, my feet propelling me toward the vanity and the shelves in the cabinet behind the mirror that are filled with medication. With razors and products that are poison when ingested.

My hands shake hard as I rifle through them. Cotton swabs and condoms rain down all around me. I latch onto a bottle of sleeping pills.

Bronx’s prescription.

I cry harder. And pour them into my cupped palm.

“Kelsey,” Riot calls from outside. “What’s going on in there? Let me in.”

I’ve already let him in tonight. I told him everything. Showed him all the broken pieces inside me that I’ve been trying to keep together. It only made everything hurt more.

“Talk to me,” he pleads.

“What?” Golden’s groggy voice comes through the panel. “Are you doing?”

“I need to get in there,” Riot says. A thump shakes the whole panel. “I’m worried she’s going to hurt herself.”