One more reason I’d had to step back from following Bonnie the last few years.
Kade and I are each other’s secret keepers. I can always count on him to clean up my messes.
Kade laughs. “I’m just that good,” he says. “Are you sure you want to see this dating stuff?”
My brows narrow as I open the top drawer of her dresser. “I know she’s sexting people on there. Why?”
“You are not going to like all of this,” he mutters.
“I can handle someone sending her tit pics, Kade,” I snap as my fingers curl around a lacy pink thong.
Fuck.
I bring them to my face and inhale deeply. Taking in the fresh scent of her laundry reminds me of the smell of her bodysuit at DeathFest. It’s a dark spiral into that memory again, and I resist closing my eyes and falling under its spell.
“Yeah, okay,” he says. “It’s a little more than tit pics.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“When you’re done sniffing her underwear, come over. I’ll show you,” he says.
I glance to the camera in the fake potted plant on a corner shelf and flip him off. “And whenyouare done spying on me, get to my place. Text Liam, too. We need to touch base.”
“I thought Liam was on babysitting duty for their management?” Kade asks.
“I’ll get in touch with Wren’s team and ask if they can spare someone until we’re done. I’m sure they have a couple sleeping in a van somewhere near the property anyway,” I say. “See you in an hour?”
“Sure thing, boss.”
I close the drawer and stuff the pink thong in my back pocket.
CHAPTER TEN
BONNIE
Flirtingwith Gemma was a poor attempt at trying to get my mind on her and off the invasive thoughts of my stalker’s tongue.
I’m fucking rattled.
The last few days have been hell at focusing. I can’t turn my mind off enough to sleep. I’ve barely eaten. The only reason I’ve had anything to drink is because Mads keeps pushing it across the table toward me. He’s always been great at noticing when something is wrong, even if he doesn’t always ask what’s the matter or pry into things I’m not ready to talk about.
Each of these guys has saved my life at some point.
I don’t even want to think of where I’d be without this band.
“Hey, Bon, you need a break?” Mads asks on the com.
I’m in the booth, but my mind is in three other places.
I let my head hang and press the sticks in my hands to my knees, leg jumping in a jittering way. Five years ago, I’d have reached for a shot, a line, a hit on the vape, anything to calm the anxiety and silence the racing thoughts.
Breathe.
Fuck this breathingshit.
“No, I’m good,” I say, a thread of rage and frustration swelling inside me. “Play it back.”
Just play it back.
