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“Because this is your home,” she said, her words throwing me for a loop. Did she mean she was my home or the ranch was my home?
Didn’t matter.
I was still leaving.
“I’ll just go to Big Paw’s and call,” I muttered as I began walking again.
“That won’t help you, seeing as how Big Paw and Holly are waiting inside the house over here, along with the band.”
“Why are they there?”
“They want to talk to you. They want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Like an intervention? Not interested.”
“Ian, you’re not okay ...”
“I’m fine!”I snapped at her.
“You’re not,” she replied, calmly as ever.
“And what exactly do you know about me, Hazel Stone?”
“Everything,” she said so matter-of-factly it made me want to crawl into a ball and cry like a little bitch. She gave me a half smile and shrugged her shoulders. “I know everything, Ian. You’re my best friend.”
“Then why did you leave me?” I asked, sounding desperate. A flash of sadness washed over Hazel’s face. I shook my head and turned in the direction of the house. “Don’t answer that.”
I didn’t need her answer, because it didn’t matter why she’d left me. It only mattered that she’d left—easy as that.
I should’ve learned a long time ago that when people left you behind, it was best that you never asked why. You’d always be disappointed with their reasoning.
The moment I stepped foot into the ranch house, I felt my nerves start to skyrocket. Everyone was sitting in the living room with doomed expressions on their faces, as if they’d lost their best friend, and I couldn’t help but feel ridiculous about their dramatic looks.
“What is this?” I demanded. “Why are you guys holding me hostage here?”
“Don’t come in here with that damn tone, boy. You don’t get to be nasty toward people because they care about your well-being,” Big Paw snapped. “Now bring your butt over here and sit down.”
I wanted to argue with him, but I knew that wouldn’t lead to any place good.
I sat down in the armchair, not happy about it at all. “So. What do you want?”
“We want you to stop acting like a damn stubborn child,” Big Paw hollered.
“Harry, be easy,” Grams said, placing her hand on his knee.
“No. Easy doesn’t work with this blockhead. We need to break through to him. Ian, your bandmates have told me you’ve been drinking each night. Is that true?”
Snitches.
“I’ve had a few drinks,” I murmured, readjusting myself in the chair.
“He’s been wasted every night for more than a month,” Marcus added.
What a fucking asshole. “I’ve done my job,” I said. “I’ve showed up and never missed a show, so what does it matter if I have a drink or two—”
“Or five,” Eric quipped, making the anger grow inside of me.
Who did these people think they were, talking about me like that? I was supposed to be their friend, and this was how they showed their love?
