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Slipping into her shoes before reaching for her laptop bag and purse, she turns to me. “I’ll be late tonight. Don’t wait up.”

“Do you want me to make us dinner? I can whip up my famous barbecue mac and cheese.”

Talia shakes her head, barely looking in my direction. “I’ll eat at the office. Seeing as you all have a key, you can lock up behind yourselves.”

And then she’s gone, striding out of the front door, hair whipping behind her.

Three pairs of eyes snap my way, and I try not to recoil under their varying levels of scrutiny. “Well, ladies, how about breakfast? My treat.”

“How about you tell us why you’re really here, Tate?” The question comes from Harriet, her tone passive.

“I’m here to recover. I’m guessing Talia filled you in on my seizure.” It isn’t the entire truth, and until Talia and I hash it out, that’s all they’re getting.

“Talia was doing fine until your mom called her. I’m not going to pretend to know what is going on between you two. We tried for weeks to pry it out of her—which was after we picked up the broken pieces you left behind.” Parker steps forward. “I suggest you think really, really hard about your intentions while you’re in town, Tate. Because when you leave again, and you will, if our friend is anything close to the shell of the woman she was last summer, I will personally send you back to the hospital myself.”

My blood runs cold.

Not at Parker’s threat.

Harriet and Margot stay quiet, but from their downcast stares and uneasy postures, they don’t trust me.

It takes me three tries to form words, the emotion caused by Parker’s speech clogging my throat. “You know I’d never intentionally hurt her. You know me.”

“I’m not sure we do anymore, Tate.”

Ethan squawks in Harriet’s arms. Great, even the baby hates me.

“Right.” My jaw works hard. “Well, if you’re not staying for breakfast, I’m going to take a shower. It was good seeing you all.”

Before I say or do something I’ll regret, I ascend the stairs. It’s only when I’m in the bathroom, the sound of the shower drowning out any noise, that I let my anger show.

“Fuck!” I shout and grip the vanity until the edges bite into my palms. The pain is nothing compared to the fissure in my chest, cracking wider and wider with every second I think about the way Parker described Talia.

A shell of a woman.

Broken pieces.

I did what she asked, hoping time and space would patch up our fraying edges. I’ve returned to a wreckage. I’m not stupid, and I knew this wasn’t going to be smooth sailing, but she’s treating me like a stranger.

ELEVEN

TATE

A pissed-off Howard stares at me through the phone screen as I sit at Talia’s desk. I fiddle with the drawers, opening and closing them as my manager spirals. She usually keeps some gum on hand, but so far there’s nothing. I tug at the bottom drawer. Huh. Weird. It doesn’t give, and I’m about to go searching for the key when Howard’s whiny voice distracts me.

“How the fuck does two weeks max turn into six? How, Tate?” His complexion is a lovely shade of I’m-going-to-kill-you. “The press are having a field day since you canceled the rest of the tour. Everyone thinks you’re in rehab. TMZ reported you as dead until a fan debunked that rumor when they snapped a photo of you at Nashville International. Wait, are you high? Is that why you’re making these wild requests?”

“Howard. You were literally the one who called nine-one-one. I was hoping me being in the hospital made it clear why I was taking time away.” I grit my teeth while stretching out my stiff limbs. I’m feeling a little better. My tongue is healing up nicely thanks to the mouthwash Talia bought, but exhaustion still pulls at my bones. It’ll take a few more days until I’m feeling myself again. I should take Talia’s advice and rest, but how can I sit on my ass when my marriage hangs in the balance?

“Listen, I’m struggling, and you saw what the doctor suggested. I need to meet with my neurologist next week, they’re running other tests because of my iron and heart, my head is all over the place, I’m sleeping like shit, and—” I tug at the loose strands of hair around my face. “Six weeks is all I’m asking. It sucks we couldn’t finish the tour, but it was one location, and so far, the fans have been understanding of the situation. I’ll make it up to the label. Whatever they want.”

I’m desperate. Talia can’t stand to be in the same room as me, and after she stormed out of the house this morning as if she’d rather be anywhere but under the same roof as me, two weeks is nowhere near enough time to fix things.

It was confusing as hell. She was letting me stay here to recover, purchased all my favorite foods, made sure I was comfortable with bath salts and painkillers. There’s no doubt she cares about me, a small consolation, but I suspect she’s only helping me recover so she can get me out of the house quicker.

Howard massages the bridge of his nose while cursing under his breath. “The label will not agree to a six-week vacation. You’re lucky they even entertained two.”

“Howard,” I growl. “Just handle it.”