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“What do you want, then?” I ask.
“I want you to know I’m sorry. I don’t want your fucking pity. I want to tell you I’m sorry. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have done what I did, but I did—and I’ve got some kind of cosmic warfare karma bullshit thing going on as a result of it. I just needed you to know that I am sorry. I’ve thought about you. I’ve thought about what our lives would have looked like if I hadn’t left. I ruined it, and I know that. But I just need you to know that I know I fucked up… and I regret it.”
While his mouth has told me plenty of pretty lies, his eyes never have. When I’m searching for the truth, I know I can find it in his eyes. And when Kade tells me he regrets leaving Chicago all those years ago, I’m certain he’s telling me the truth.
And honestly, that makes it worse than if he’d just lie. Because if he would just be an asshole, I could continue acting like he means nothing to me—like the two years we spent together meant nothing. When in reality, aside from Spence, Kade is the only man I’ve ever loved.
Kade moves in toward me, and for some reason—maybe it’s the alcohol mixed with the dirty nostalgia—I allow him to kiss me.
I am so fucked.
***
13
***
DECLAN
“You met up with Kade?” Miller flashes a look in my direction as he sits on a stool with his guitar. “Kade Reid. You met up with Kade willingly?”
The guys and I are practicing a few of our newer songs, although we have them committed to memory. It’s still a bit unnerving to play new material in front of thousands—hundreds of thousands—of fans in multiple sold-out arenas. We leave for tour in only a few days, and I think the nerves are starting to get to us all. We just want this to be perfect—not that perfection truly exists, but as perfect as possible.
That kiss with Kade last night should have never happened. It was short and sweet and to the point, and the moment it did, I flipped out and he took me home. It didn’t feel like I remembered it… kissing Kade. There was something different, and it wasn’t just time or space. I can’t put my finger on it, but it didn’t feel right.
Not that it ever really did. Not with Spence in the back of my mind.
I do my best to push what happened far, far into the back of my mind.
“It probably didn’t help that she was wine drunk.” Bordeaux shoots a look in my direction, clicking his microphone back onto its stand. He winks at me with a slow smile, and I want to punch him. “Hey. Easy, killer. You brought it up. I’m just helping Miller and Flynn put all the pieces of this puzzle together.”
I roll my eyes. “I may have been drinking a little,” I say, tilting my chin up in the air because I am confident, and I stand behind my horrible decision to meet up with Kade. “But in all fairness, I knew I needed to have the conversation, and I figured having a few sips of liquid courage wouldn’t hurt anything.”
“Yeah.” Flynn stands, tapping his drumsticks together a few times with a grimace on his face. “I think that’s what my counselors would call alcohol dependence.”
I shoot him a look and he smiles, letting me know he’s joking—well, half joking because that’s a true statement.
“Do you guys want to know how the conversation went, or are you just going to continue poking fun at me? Because in a minute, none of you are getting any details.” I yawn, picking up my bass. “We really better get started with practice because I’m getting sleepy.”
Miller throws an empty water bottle at me, which bounces against my thigh and falls to the floor. “Oh, come on, give us the dirty details. Did you and Kade kiss and make up after all this time? Do we need to kill him? Is he already fired before he even started working for us?”
Bordeaux laughs, trying to cover it with a cough.
“Seriously though, Dec. What’s up?” Flynn eyes me. “Are you okay?”
I gulp. Unsure, Flynn. To be determined, if I’m being honest.
“The talk went…” I search my brain for words that fit. “The talk went better than I thought it would.” I knew I’d have to talk about this with the guys. I’ve been wanting to talk about it with them since last night when it all went down. Still, talking about anything to anyone when Kade is the subject isn’t easy. “For starters, he apologized for waiting five years to make amends with me. He told me he’s in a bit of a situation with his wife, who apparently is his soon-to-be ex-wife. I guess she has a really bad gambling problem he never knew about. That’s why he was here last year; remember when he showed up at Iconic? He was in the city to ask his mom and dad for a loan to help cover their asses after she got them into a shit-ton of debt.”
“Damn.” Bordeaux rakes a hand over his beard, shaking his head. “I’ve never been the dude’s biggest fan—sorry, Dec—but that still fucking blows.”
I shrug as Miller walks over and sits next to me on the tabletop. Busying myself by swinging my legs, I avoid him until he reaches out and touches my knee. I watch as Miller gives Bordeaux and Flynn a look, but I can’t fully decipher what it is. I don’t have the energy to bug him about it. But something tells me this won’t be the last conversation we have about this.
“You don’t owe him shit. You know that, right?” He pats my knee and leans back on his hands. “If you don’t want to accept his apology, don’t. He may have a great sob story, and it sucks for him that he’s going through it, but that doesn’t change the shit he did.”
Miller’s an amazing friend. Sometimes he gets a bad rap for being an asshole, especially in the media. He’s always been the first one to throw a punch at the paparazzi or shut down an interview for getting too personal. He has a take-no-shit kind of attitude, and I can appreciate that about him, but the rest of the world doesn’t always understand it the way the guys and I do. He can be a mushy sweetheart—especially when it comes to me—and he’s like the brother I never had.
“I love you, you asshole. You know that, right?” I say to him as he ruffles the top of my head with his hand.
