Page 111 of The Rogues

“Well, that’s one way to wake up,” Lennon jokes.

We all laugh, tired and breathless and joyful. Maybe I should wake everyone up for orgies more often.

THIRTY-SIX

SYRACUSE, NEW YORK

I slip my key card into the hotel door, the click loud as I brace myself. I’m sure it just announced my presence for the entire suite, blaring loudly for all of them to hear: Traitor Alert, Traitor Alert.

I curse to myself. Why did the roadie have to put my guitar in my room? I’ve been staying in the guys’ rooms for four stops now. It’s been a week since I’ve been able to speak to the girls. I’ve been avoiding the situation like the plague ever since Cleo started ignoring me. Ignoring the green room at shows, getting my hair and makeup done while they’re in the dressing rooms and vice versa. The only time we have seen each other is on stage. We pretend everything is okay, smile and laugh, and lose ourselves to the music that we wrote together. That simple fact has been keeping me together. Every time Lark gives me a supportive glance or smile, or anytime Nicola looks at me while we’re playing. I know they still love me despite the confusion, despite the distance, but it’s still something I can bring myself to figure out yet.

If anyone notices the tension on stage, they haven’t said anything. Even Ruby, who can pick out our moods better than anyone, hasn’t said anything about the awkwardness. It’s like everyone has been working on autopilot and ignoring the gigantic elephant in the room, no one more so than me.

I would still be avoiding it if it weren’t for my uncle’s guitar waiting for me in the room. If I were a conspiracy theorist, I would think someone from our team bribed the roadie to drop my guitar off in the wrong room.

My bet would be on Tom, since I’m sure he’s getting the short end of the stick with Cleo.

I walk in, hoping beyond hope that the suite is empty but—of course—I can’t be that lucky. Like a deer in headlights, I freeze when I see my three bandmates hanging out on the couch, all of them doing their own things as I stroll in like nothing has happened.

I don’t move, completely afraid of what will happen if I do. Lark’s pen pauses mid-sentence against her notepad, her eyes widening as she takes me in. Nicola’s vape is in her mouth, smoke trailing out of the corner as she forgets to inhale at the sight of me.

Cleo looks up from her phone, her face unreadable for the few seconds it takes for her to process that it’s me, and then her eyes narrow. If she has any feelings about me being here, she doesn’t let on as she stands and starts to make her way out of the room.

“Cleo—” I start as she passes me, but when I get close enough to stop her from retreating, she slams the door right in my face, the force of it rattling the hotel walls.

“Great, now we’re going to get the front desk called on us,” Lark mutters, voice monotone.

I feel the emotion build up another layer. I have to blink rapidly to keep it from falling, but my lip betrays me as it wobbles. Luckily, the girls don’t say anything. They just let me have my moment staring at the closed door, sitting with the sordid reality of what our dynamic has come to.

I take in a deep breath and center myself before turning around to them.

Nicola is still watching me, her vape still hanging out of her mouth. She takes a quick hit of it when she realizes and exhales the smoke before she says anything. “So… how have things been?”

I bite my lip. “Things have been—” I pause to figure out the best adjective. Amazing? Daunting? Conflicting? But I settle for, “Good.”

She gives me a sympathetic smile. “We’ve missed you.”

Another wave of sadness rushes over me, and I have to stop myself from crying once more. “I’ve missed you, too.”

I don’t mention that they haven’t all missed me. I take the sentiment and disregard everything else. I step forward and join them on the couch, realizing that my guitar and the guys can wait until I’ve had a moment with my friends.

“Are they treating you well?” Lark asks kindly. Her tone is the same one she always has when she’s checking in. Straight, honest, and to the point.

I nod, thinking about just how well the guys have been treating me. It’s everything my omega needed and more, but I try to hold back my smile just in case they see right through me. “They’re good. I needed this time. I’m sorry I haven’t been around.”

“As long as you’re happy, I don’t care,” Lark says as she writes something down and closes her notepad.

“Same,” Nicola agrees as she moves to sit on her knees facing me. “How is it having that big bed to yourself? I bet the guys’ backs are hurting.”

I widen my eyes, but then school my features when I notice. “It’s great! They had a curtain installed so it feels separate from the bus.”

Nicola laughs. “I’m jealous. Cleo’s been hogging ours.”

At the mention of Cleo, I blanch a little bit. “At least you get your own bed tonight.”

“Fucking finally,” she responds, her lips quirking.

Silence falls over us; all of the things we’ve been avoiding linger as we sit in it, pretending there isn’t more to be said, more to be answered.