“Nope,” he cut me off, shaking his head firmly. “Don’t even say it. Iknowwhat you were doing, but it doesn’t change the fact that Jace screwed you. That needs to be rectified, and I intend to make sure it happens.”
My jaw dropped. “What?” My question was a strangled squeak. “Rhett, I don’t actually want—”
This time he physically covered my mouth with his hand, even though his eyes were soft. “You contributed to the Bellerose debut album, and you deserve compensation. End of story. It won’t get sorted today, but maybe by the time we reach New York you’ll be in a stronger position to start a new life.”
I groaned, already dreading how much the rest of the band must be hating me. But with Rhett’s hand still covering my mouth, it sounded a whole shitload more sexual than regretful. He definitely thought the same because his eyes widened, and his teeth tugged on that piercing at the side of his lip. Dammit. Who knew Jace’s bandmates would beso hot?
“I should get back out there,” he murmured in a husky voice, slowly removing his hand from my mouth. Did I just imagine it, or did his thumb brush my lower lip deliberately? Shit, maybe I was due for my period; my hormones were going nuts. I couldn’t remember my last one, but my IUD meant my period was sporadic at best. I’d missed more meals than I could count in the last ten years to keep up with my birth control, and it was never a regret. The alternative would be way worse than hunger. My world was too fucked up to bring a baby into it.
When I snapped out of my darker thoughts, Rhett was staring at me. Had he said something? Crap, could he see how distracted I kept getting?
“Um, if me being in here is causing more drama than you need, I could just… go for a walk or something,” I offered with a weak shrug.
Rhett’s brow dipped. “And risk one of the Ricci thugs snatching you? Not a chance. You’re fine here; I’m just embarrassed about how Jace is acting. Even ifeverythinghe’s said about you is true—and I’m no longer so convinced—he’s still being an asshole.”
I shrugged, shifting backwards to give myself a chance to catch my breath. “I’m not shocked. I actually expected worse, to be fair.”
Rhett didn’t seem comforted but murmured something about wrapping things up quickly. He left the room, closing the door softly behind himself. Not before I caught a tiny snippet of the conversation in the living room, though.
“Shut the fuck up, Tucker,” a deep, gravelly voice snapped.
The creep must be Tucker because he gave a slick laugh. “Calm down, Gray, I was—”
His words faded into muffled sounds as the door clicked shut, and I sat there a moment. Gray. That had to be Aquaman’s name. What about the girl? I hadn’t missed the distrust and judgment in her eyes as she’d silently watched my showdown with Jace. No way was she taking my side in whatever they were discussing out there.
My stomach rumbled, so I got comfy in Rhett’s bed and watched an awesome animated show while I ate my breakfast. The food was excellent, but the show was even better. About a girl in an academy for supernatural creatures. If my hate-filled ex wasn’t twenty feet away trying to plot a way to make my body disappear down the hotel’s trash chute, it’d be the best morning I’d had in alongtime.
Hell, even with Jace spitting insults, this had been a pretty great morning so far. I could put up with his shit if I got parmesan scrambled eggs and crispy bacon on the regular. And the coffee… yum. So much better than the bitter, watery crap I usually got from a vending machine.
I made it through five episodes of my new favorite show before the door opened once more and Rhett gave me a tight smile.
I arched a brow in question, and he closed the door behind himself. In his hand, he held a small stack of clothes, mostly all black.
“I borrowed some clothes from Florence,” he told me, placing the garments down on the edge of the bed. “You guys seem like a similar size.”
That was… thoughtful. Or did he just want his t-shirt back? Maybe me wearing his clothes was aggravating the situation with Jace… After all, my ex already assumed we’d fucked last night. Maybe we should have. If I’m going to be condemned, I may as well actuallydothe crime. Right?
“Thanks,” I offered instead, sliding my legs out of the bed and brushing some crumbs from his sheets. I grabbed the clothes and slipped into the bathroom to change. Florence had donated a pair of ripped black jeans and a tight black crop top that just barely squeezed over my boobs. I might be skinny—due to my current state of poverty—but my tits had barely budged a cup size since I’d fallen on hard times.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror, releasing a long sigh. My appearance was perfectly fine from the front. Cute, even. But there was no way I could go out there with my back so exposed. I twisted slightly to peer at my scars in the mirror, then grimaced.
Nope. No way. For one thing, I didn’t want to explain to Rhett—or anyone—how I’d gotten them. For another, I badly didn’t want Jace to see them. I’d lain in that ICU hospital bed for amonth, waiting for him to walk through the door. Every time my door opened, I’d foolishly thought it would be him, but it never was. So fuck him. He didn’t carethen; I sure as fuck didn’t need his pitynow.
Pulling open the bathroom door, I braced my hand against the frame to eliminate the chance of Rhett seeing my back. I was lucky he hadn’t seen it last night when I ripped my bloody shirt off, but it’d been dark and he’d probably been tryingnotto look.
“Damn,” he murmured, his eyes sweeping over me, “you look so fucking hot, Thorn.” The instant those words left his mouth, his eyes widened and he cringed. “Fuck, sorry, that was meant to be inside my head. Uh, I meant to say, Flo’s clothes seem to fit you okay?”
My cheeks were warm with a blush, and I dragged my teeth over my lower lip. “Uh, yeah. But… could I maybe borrow another t-shirt? I don’t… um…” Glancing down at my exposed midriff, I made a gesture to try and explain withoutreallyexplaining.
“Yeah, of course.” Rhett stunned me speechless by pullinghis ownshirt—another band tee, this one with the sleeves ripped off—over his head and tossing it over to me.
I caught it, but just gaped at him as he casually reached into his massive suitcase—that he hadn’t bothered unpacking—to find another.
“I didn’t mean the one you were wearing,” I squeaked, the warmth of the fabric in my hand reminding me it had literallyjustbeen on his body.
Rhett looked over at me with an odd expression, then tugged another shirt over his head. “Yeah, but that color will look great on you.” It was such a casual argument that I had nothing to respond. “Unless… was that too far? It’s clean, but I can get you a different one.” He reached out to take the shirt back, but I clutched it to my chest.
“No, this one is fine,” I said quickly, shaking it out and tugging it over my head. I glanced back at the bathroom mirror and released a sigh to see the scars on my back were totally covered.
