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“Yeah, why did you do all that? Act that way? Were you... high all the time? Drunk? Or just pissed off at the world?”
He appears shocked that I would actually want a reason. Has no one ever asked him that question before? “I don’t know. I can’t really explain.”
Tate goes quiet, his expression thoughtful as he resumes staring out the window. I start scrolling on my phone, trying to keep one eye on him, wishing he would give me more. He always talks about how crazy his life was when he was with Five Car Pileup, but he never gives actual reasonswhyhe behaved so badly. It has to be more than the stereotypical “sex, drugs, and rock and roll” explanation.
I’d love it if he dug a little deeper.
“I thought I was untouchable.” His soft voice has me turning toward him, though he’s still staring out the window. “I believed I could do no wrong. My life had completely changed and everything was being handed to me, and all I had to do was smile and dance and sing. That’s it. It was easy. Until it became hard.”
I’m quiet, hoping that he’ll talk more, and my silence works.
“Drugs were part of it. Alcohol. I became arrogant. Mean. I didn’t like myself. I treated my girlfriend like shit. Jess...” He exhales, finally glancing over to meet my gaze. “I did her wrong. She might’ve cheated on me with Jamie, but I was cheating on her all the time. Girls would throw themselves at me, and I wouldn’t turn them down. Jamie knew it. Witnessed it all the time, and he did the same shit I would do. But eventually, he used all of my mistakes against me.”
“I bet that hurt.” His pain emanates from him, and I can tell it still bothers him, what happened back then.
That moment ruined everything. It broke up the band.
“More than I like to admit,” he says, and I can’t help but wonder if he still cares about her.
Still wants her.
“Are they together?” I ask.
Tate presses his head against the back of the seat, chuckling. “I don’t even know. Are they? I wouldn’t be surprised if they were. They went pretty much off the grid after the band broke up. I know they were together a year ago.”
I’m pretty sure they are, but I don’t want to say that to him. Why make him more emotional? I’m sure that was the ultimate betrayal, his girlfriend cheating on him with one of his closest friends.
“Does that still bother you? What they did?”
“It did, for a long time. But not anymore.” He shrugs. “We got together when I was sixteen, right before I blew up and went on that reality show. She was there for it all, and she got sucked into the fame and the drugs and the bullshit too. It was... nice having her by my side, because I thought I could trust her. She was my one reminder of home, and that made me feel safe. Comfortable. She was the one person I believed I could count on, but we know how that turned out.”
His smile is wistful, and my heart twinges. She hurt him deeply, and I kind of hate her for it.
Okay, I really hate her for it.
“I thought I was in love with Jess, but I don’t know if I’ve ever really been in love, you know?”
“I don’t.” I offer him a smile, hoping he doesn’t think I’m pathetic. “I’ve never been in love either.”
CHAPTER17
TATE
I’m standing in the middle of every teenage girl’s dream bedroom, glancing around at all the shit that’s everywhere, covering every available surface. Scarlett Lancaster is a collector of pretty things, and she likes to show them off by putting them on display in her room.
Guess I can’t blame her. If I came from the Lancaster wealth, I’d have a bunch of useless shit in my room too. She doesn’t have to clean it or dust it. I’m sure they have a housekeeper who lives in this monstrosity of a penthouse apartment. They might have an entire fleet of servants who live in their own separate quarters, ready to assist at their owners’ every whim.
“You can sit if you want.” Scarlett emerges from her closet wearing a pair of denim shorts and a strappy little white top that reveals a lot of skin, her arms above her head as she pulls her hair into a high ponytail. “That chair is really comfortable.”
She’s pointing at an overstuffed light-pink chair and ottoman that are right next to the window.
I make my way over to it, reaching out to touch the chair arm, my fingers sinking into the velvety fabric. How much did this chair cost?
Damn. I thought I was living the high life when I was at my most successful. This family is a whole different breed.
“You should probably take your shoes off if you’re going to use the ottoman, though.” She points at it. “You might get it dirty.”
Without a word I toe off my shoes and settle in, resting my feet on the ottoman as I sink into the comfortable chair. “This is nice.”
