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Hepurses his lips. “Stayright here.”
Whenhe opens the door and quickly shuts it,Adrianisn’t behind his kit anymore, andRobbie’svoice heightens as he shouts, andZakglares at the corner but remains silent.Afew seconds later,Shannonreappears with my purse and keys in hand.
“Takea breather,” he says, handing them to me. “Ineed to bleach my eyes after that, anyway.”
Iglare up at him.He’sgot a stern expression that dares me to fight back.
“Willyou at least punch him for me?”
“Nowwhy wouldIdo that?”
“Becausehe’s being an asshole man-whore!”
“Don’tyou think you’re doin’ the same to him withTybein’ around?I’mnot doin’ your dirty work.Figureyour shit out.”Hegrabs the doorknob but pauses. “Isaved you for a reason.Ifyou’re gonna throw it away on some fling, then why the fuck amIbothering with any of this.”
I’mleft gaping at the door that slams shut behind him. “Y’all’refuckingassholes!”
Isthis stupid band even worth living for anymore?
Ihuff at myself asImarch across the backyard, through the house, and to my car out front.Quitbeing so fucking dramatic.
ButwhenIdrop into the driver’s seat and put theACon blast, allIcan hear and see isAdrianfucking his ex-girlfriend—his “dirty little groupie.”
Isniffle and nearly poke an eye out jabbing tears away.I’vetold him time and time again this wouldn’t work, so why the fuck amIcrying over his stupid ass?
Athome in the driveway next toTy’sJeep, my phone buzzes in my hand asIstare out into the trees.
Hmuwhen you’re tired of being treated like another piece of ass
Iscoff in disbelief.
Whatabout tired of being a piece of meat?
It’simmediately read, but dots don’t pop up.
Iface-plant in my bed.Itstarts deep in my chest, but, gradually,Ilet a long, ferocious growl out into my comforter.
IfI’mnot angry,I’llstart crying again.
“Roughpractice?”
Iscoff, eyes tearing up. “Thiswas a mistake.”
“Whatwas?”
Iturn around on the bed and gesture around wildly. “This.Allof this.Movingback here.RejoiningTimeless.Movingin the first place.Allof this is one gigantic mistake thatIcan’t fucking fix anymore.”
Tysits on the edge of my bed. “Let’sgo out.”
Mynose scrunches. “What?Why?”
“You’restressed and need a break,” he says simply. “AndobviouslyI’mnot doing whatIcame here to do.”
“Andwhat would that be?”
“Convincingyou thatAtlantais the best thing for you.”Hepauses. “ThatI’mbetter for you than anything you’re comin’ back to here.”
Isigh tearfully. “Ty, don’t you get it?I’mstuck between a rock and a hard place.There’sno getting out of this or going back toAtlanta—I’mback inSanAntoniofor good.”
