Page 61 of Anthem of Love and Loathing

“Compliments, Scary Girl?” Kodiak squeezes my thighs. “Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?”

“That’s it.” Riot wraps an arm around my waist and hauls me rudely from Kodiak’s lap. I kick out as soon as my legs are free of the couch. Try to push his arm away. “Let go of me.”

He puts my feet on the floor, but he doesn’t let go of me. “I told you to stay away from my fucking bandmates. And you what? Try to ride him in front of me?”

His words are like a bucket of ice water over me. They douse the heat between my legs and sober me up. They bring the bruises on my heart back to the surface. Why shouldn’t I spend time with Kodiak if that’s what I want? What makes Riot think he can boss me around like he has any input in my life after what he did? I wrench free of him and turn to face him. “So what? You can fuck other people in front of me like it’s a game. But now that it’s your turn to watch, you don’t wanna play anymore?”

“You are full of shit,” he snarls, looming over me. “Does it make you feel less guilty to tell yourself I screwed you over? We all know what you did.”

“Nothing. I did nothing but love you!” My breaths gasp from the deep wound inside me. He acts like I’ve done some unforgivable thing when that was all him.

“Yeah... love.” He drags a shaking hand through his thick hair. “You wouldn’t know a fucking thing about it. You grew up in the system. You had a foster family who would have beaten you rather than waste their time caring for you.”

And a foster brother who assaulted me every chance he could get. I shove that knowledge deep down. Thankfully I never told Riot. He would use it as ammunition now, and I couldn’t take it.

“You were so ready to abandon ship. I didn’t know why until you left. Then it became crystal fucking clear.”

I shove at his chest. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He grabs my hands and holds them on his chest. “You almost ruined the band’s shot.”

Bronx straightens to his feet. His voice is firm and clear. “That’s enough.”

Riot blinks. He glances around the room as though he forgot we had an audience.

Freeing my hands, I run out of the room.

Behind me I hear Riot turn on his bandmate. “You want out of the band, Kodiak? You fucking say so.”

I run through the area where the fans are waiting to be brought in to meet the guys. They stare at me like I’m an exhibit. Undoubtedly, they heard a lot of our fight. Too much. My face heats as I rush past them. At least they can’t take photos backstage due to phone etiquette rules the band enforces. But that won’t stop people from gossiping.

In the empty arena I slow to a walk. My emotions are intense, painful, but I refuse to be swept under by them. If I let them get the better of me, I will drown.

I almost cost L.A. Riot their shot because I punched the bitch who slept with my boyfriend. That’s what he cares about. All he cares about. He has no idea how much I lost. How losing our baby broke me. If I told him about her, I doubt he would care. He’d probably be glad he’s not a father since it would get in the way of what’s important to him. He doesn’t deserve to know. Not now. When it won’t change anything.

“You okay, Special K?” Golden finds me. He has Jasper with him. His brow furrows as he takes in my state.

“Not really.” I wipe at my bottom lashes to make sure I haven’t cried without realizing.

Dropping his arm around my neck, he brings me in for a sideways hug. “You want to go back to the bus. We can bake up some brownies and then do a face mask together.”

“I kind of love you,” I tell him. But I’m bitter, so I add, “Or I would if I knew what love was.”

“You two did a number on each other,” he says as we head for the bus. “Is there any point where you’ll stop hating each other?”

“Magic Eight Ball says ‘no, never’,” I say as we enter the elevator and he presses the button that will take us down to the garage where the buses are. “I’m sorry it’s making it difficult for you and Bronx.”

“Making us hard, you mean.” He waggles his eyebrows.

I laugh. It feels good. Much better than the agonizing pain remembering the past brings. “That’s what he said.”

We fall silent.

The doors open and the three of us empty into the garage. It won’t be long until we’re back on the road, but thankfully at the end of this drive we’ll have two days where we’re not packed into the bus.

“Just remember why you’re here,” Golden says, ushering me inside the bus.

Because Bronx and I made a deal that would keep me safe from Marco and give me the chance of starting fresh somewhere new.