Page 63 of Anthem of Love and Loathing

I sink onto the bed. I could barely function—could barely get through the day—because I missed the woman who was both my best friend and my whole fucking heart. Because under any other circumstance she was the one I would have gone to, and now I couldn’t. And she moved on like we were nothing. Fucking nothing.

I scan that little window again in case I’m losing my mind. But it reads the same as it read before. Kelsey got pregnant.

What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?

There’s a heavy rap on the door and Bronx’s voice comes through the panel. “Riot. We gotta go. We have the radio station promo and then the photoshoot this afternoon.”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Dude, are you okay?”

Fuck no. “Let me get my shit. I’ll be out in a minute.”

With one arm, I scoop everything back into the box, which is when I notice the journal I was hoping to find. It has a hard black cover with a duo of cherries on the front. They’re a different texture from the cover, soft and like the skin on a cherry when I brush my fingers over them.

I lift my fingers to my nose. Cherry, like the perfume she used to wear. My favorite scent. The one that would have my mouth watering when layered with her arousal. When things were simple and we were going to be forever. When I believed we would always be able to salvage our friendship. It tugs at something in my chest that feels a lot like the mess I was when she went away.

I cannot be that person again.

“Get the fuck out here,” Bronx shouts through the door again. “We’re leaving.”

“Fuck off. I’m coming.”

“Why is it one minute with him always ends up with us being a whole hour late?” Bronx asks whoever is in the room with him.

Jackass.

I toss the journal in my bag with my notepad and catch up with them at the elevator. Kelsey stands between Bronx and Kodiak. She tugs at the bottom of the fluffy fishbone looking braid she wears over the one bare shoulder peeking out from the customized neck of a cropped L.A. Riot T-shirt while she studies the steel wall.

She’d rather look at that than me.

Which is fine with me. I turn my back to her when a notification on my phone grabs my attention. Bad idea. She’s already stabbed me in it once before. Best to keep her where I can see her. I read the text. “Industry party tonight.”

Bronx groans.

“It’s mandatory.” I’m with them on not liking it, but we don’t have a fucking choice.

Kelsey says nothing. She never fucking says anything. Not really. She sure as shit hasn’t told me what she’s doing here.

You didn’t ask.

No, I didn’t and that suited me fine. Writing the songs our fans want to hear is what matters. But she will talk. Soon. When I’ve found out everything she’d hidden inside the pages of her journal.

Does she have a kid out there somewhere? Is it with its father? Is that who she meant when she said it was someone other than me that she feared? Who did she get mixed up with?

We meet Rook at the car. He’s taking over from Jasper so the man can visit with his sister while we’re in town.

Kelsey sticks with Kodiak and Bronx, climbing in between them in the car. Rook gets in up front. I take the back seat with Golden and we’re on our way.

He has his headphones on by the time we’re out of the parking garage. He likes to shut out the world so he can get in the zone. Unlike Bronx and Kodiak who are joking around and flirting with Kelsey.

“Our girl looks stunning today,” Bronx says.

Our girl. She used to be. Then she was mine. Whose girl is she now?

Sliding Kelsey’s journal inside my notebook, I take it out of my backpack and open it to a random page. It’s not dated, but that doesn’t matter. Once I work out the timeline, I’ll be able to find the information I’m after.

23