Page 107 of Before You Fell

I step closer. “My answer is no.”

His eyes burn into mine. “Over Willow.”

The way he says her name nearly gets his teeth knocked down his throat.

Jett goes still in that quiet, dangerous way that makes smart men shut the fuck up. But Damon is not a smart man.

“She is the reason there’s an album,” I say, leaning in. “She is the reason there’s a tour in the first place. So you can call the label, the lawyers, and every fucking reporter with a camera and tell them I’ve lost my fucking mind. I don’t care. I am not leaving her.”

I step close enough that Damon has to lift his chin to keep looking me in the eye. “And say her name again that fucking way and we will have a problem.”

“You are nothing but a selfish bastard,” Damon says.

My hands curl into fists at my side, itching to take a swing.

“Careful, Damon.” Cruz pushes off the wall.

“Today is not the fucking day,” Jax says.

“You should leave.” Jett’s voice cuts in.

Damon ignores them and keeps his eyes on me because the arrogant prick still thinks I'm the only one he has to beat. He has never understood this band or what Willow means to all of us.

“You’re right,” I say. “I am a selfish, arrogant bastard with a bad temper, a worse mouth, and enough bad press to wallpaper your sad little office. But listen carefully, Damon. I am not fucking leaving.”

He stares at me.

“If Willow wakes up and wants me gone, I’ll go. If her parents tell me to leave, I’ll fucking leave. If a doctor says I’m in the way, I’ll move.” My voice drops. “But you do not get to drag your ass in here and expect me to leave the only person in my whole life I give a fucking shit about because your money is making you nervous.”

For a second, no one speaks.

Then Graham shifts.

I sense his attention before I glance up. He is watching me with the same protective hate, but there is something else beneath it now. A flicker. Maybe he sees a piece of the boy he used to let sit at his kitchen table, clawing his way up through the wreckage of the man I became.

He gives me a nod.

Damon exhales sharply. “This is a mistake.”

“No,” I say. “The mistake was letting you believe any of this mattered more than her.”

His eyes turn mean. “You’ll be hearing from the lawyers.”

“Well, tell them they'll be waiting a while because I don’t give a fucking shit.”

Damon’s mouth flattens, but he must finally remember he likes his teeth where they are, so he turns and walks back toward the elevator, his phone already in his hand.

Jax drops into a chair and scrubs his face with both hands.

“Fuck him,” he mutters.

I turn back to the machine and grab the coffees, desperate to get back into Willow’s room.

Chapter Eighteen

Willow

My body claws its way toward consciousness, as if it’s furious at me for forcing it to clock back in. My mouth is so parched my tongue clings to the roof and every swallow scorches my throat. A dull ache pulses behind my eyes, sharp enough to register as a grudge.