I physically have to hold Hollis back as Jace continues to talk.
Jace just shakes his head, a mixture of amusement and pure rage in his expression. “Since I’m a nice guy, consider the two days I’m giving you to pay up a wedding gift. But if you go to the cops, Pres, this video will go straight to the press. I doubt your brother’s band will appreciate another scandal.”
Zander joined the band a couple of years ago after their former lead guitarist (and childhood best friend) got a minor pregnant and tried to cover it up. Hendrix once told me that Asher felt responsible for not noticing Mitch’s erratic behavior. The band has never been the same.
I’m not sure they can survive another scandal.
I’m not sure I can either.
Still clinging to Hollis, I watch as Jace slowly reaches down, picks up his phone, and then walks away. When he’s finally out of sight, Hollis turns to me, and I take one step and crumble into his arms.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
HOLLIS
Presley has barely spoken since we left the bar.
It’s like she’s in shock, and I don’t know what to do or how to help her.
Mainly because I have no idea what happened outside that bar—except that my wife was alone, and I wasn’t there when she needed me.
I should have checked on her sooner. I should have noticed she was gone, but I had been so focused on finishing everything so we could leave that I missed the sound of the back door closing.
When I finally went to look for her, I already knew something was wrong. The dumpster is literally right outside. You don’t even need to step all the way out to toss out the trash.
And Pres was definitely a toss-and-go kind of girl.
We walk silently to her apartment. It’s late, quiet. Everyone else has already turned in for the night. I fish out my keys so she doesn’t have to. She stands there with her arms crossed over her chest, as if she’s holding all the pieces of herself together.
I worry she just might be.
Turning the lock, I let her go in first. The apartment is dark. I go to turn on a light, but she stops me. I turn.
“I’m so sorry,” she says softly, barely able to meet my gaze. It’s the first words she’s uttered since the bar, and it’s an apology?
I take a step closer and lift her chin. Even in the darkness, I can see the tears coating her lashes. “What in the world would you have to be sorry for, Pres?”
“The video. I didn’t know that he…I never agreed to—” She can’t finish her sentence, but it doesn’t matter. I reach out and pull her into my arms.
“I’m so sorry, Pres. I’m sorry your trust was violated like that.” I pull back, wanting her eyes on mine when I say this next part. “But I need you to know I wouldn’t think any less of you if that video had been consensual. I would still be here supporting you every step of the way. Nothing would change my opinion of you.”
Or the way I feel about you…
Her bottom lip begins to wobble as she digests my words. Then a single tear trickles down her cheek. “What am I going to do? How?—”
“Right now, we’re not going to worry about it.”
“But—”
I smooth a hand over her hair. “We’ll worry about it tomorrow, Pres. It’s late, and you need to sleep.”
She tenses. “Will you come with me?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Of course.”
We leave everything in the living room, and I follow her down the hall. When we reach her bedroom, she hesitates, lingering at the entryway before stepping inside. Her gaze drifts to the drawn curtains and then to her unmade bed.
“I can’t,” she murmurs, shaking her head. “The bedding, Hollis. I can’t…”
