I want Tyrell.
The reminder is a soft whisper, and I turn to look for him, one last desperate bid to see if he actually made it tonight.
But I don’t see him.
With a swallow, I resist the urge to check my phone. It hasn’t buzzed or anything, so he’s either not seen it, or he’s ignoring it.
“Yeah, this one here, she…” Reef’s scoffing laugh gives me chills. “She got all shitty with Atlas the night he died.”
My head pings back. “What are you doing?”
“She told him to go to hell,” Reef keeps talking, pointing an accusing thumb my way. “And then took off and just left him there, all brokenhearted.”
I gape at him while the drummer beside him lets out this awkward laugh.
Reef narrows his eyes at me. “He should be alive.”
“Yes.” I nod. “He should. But then he took those pills.”
“Because he was upset!” Reef growls. “And he wouldn’t have been that way if you’d stayed.”
I shake my head, drawing on my therapy sessions and scrambling to find that calm she told me look for. The place where I could logically and unemotionally assess the events of that night.
“He was upset anyway,” I reply in a small voice. “And this is not the time or place for this conversation.”
“I think it feels pretty fucking familiar, don’t you? You gonna yell at me too, make me feel so shitty that I need to get me a little something to take the edge off?”
I grit my teeth.
“I didn’t know how else to help him.” Reef shakes his head, looking at the drummer like he’ll get it. “He was gonna lose his shit, man. I had to give him something.”
“What?” The word comes out of me as a soft whisper, my heart slamming into my rib cage as his confession registers with brutal clarity. “What did you do?”
Reef turns to me with an accusing glare. “I helped him out, because you left.”
“You helped him out?” I repeat, an explosion of rage firing through me. “You mean gave him those pills!”
“Hey.” He raises his hands like I’m being the unreasonable one. “He needed to chill out. Find his Zen. You riled him up pretty bad, and I didn’t know what to do.”
“You… you killed him,” I rasp.
“Fuck off.” He shoves my shoulder. “No, I didn’t. You did! You should have been there.”
“Youwerethere,” I snarl. “And you’re telling me you gave him the pills that ended his life! You asshole!”
“We don’t know that’s what it was. He’d had a lot that night.”
“Those pushed him over the edge!” An anger so hot and evasive I don’t know what to do with it fires through me and I lunge, my hands shooting out like rockets as I shove this stoner with all the force I can muster.
He stumbles back a step, growling at me when I pounce forward with my fists.
“You were his friend!” I scream at him, pounding his chest. “He looked up to you!”
He grunts, shoving me away, then rounding on me with a punch I didn’t see coming. His knuckles connect with my cheek, and I let out a shocked gasp as my head snaps sideways.
CHAPTER 55
TYRELL
