10
i’m sorry
HAYDEN
I stumble backinside the club before Riley and Nastya see me. The music hasn’t changed, yet the beat feels different. Soulless. Like me. Memories assault me, swirling in my head. I need a moment to fucking breathe.
Shoulders tense and neck stiff, I make a beeline for the restroom. I hustle to the sink farthest from the door, silently thankful I’m the only one here, and place my hands on the countertop. The man looking back at me in the mirror is almost unrecognizable. I look like shit, and I fucking hate myself. I have a tendency to hurt those who care about me, and here I am, doing it again. Piper was first, then Owen, now Riley.
She liked me.
Since she was a damn kid. Since fucking forever, probably. And I’m the asshole who used her to distract myself, who couldn’t even keep my promise.
Because I came to help her, yet I sat across the crowded club when I was supposed to be screening her options.
I am a condescending jerk.
Eyes closed, I focus on breathing. This is a fucking disaster. Embarrassment mixes with self-loathing. For months, Riley has shown up for me, stopping in to check on me when my family wasworried, sitting with me when it felt like I was dying. She never asked for anything in return, never said no to Hunter or Piper when they asked her to make sure I was okay. And instead of being grateful, I acted like she meant nothing to me.
News flash, Hayden Hale—this has been a long time coming. You built a wall to keep her out when you noticed how stunning she was, and now that’s come back to bite you in the ass. You became so detached, you couldn’t see how she felt about you.
A fucking coward.
I splash cold water on my face and run my still-wet hand through my hair in hopes it will miraculously refresh my brain. The effort is mostly in vain, but I need to pull myself together and apologize.
Fuck, I would give anything to talk to Owen.He would’ve scolded me for being an ignorant ass, but he also would’ve known what to do.
Once my hands are dry, I head back to our table, racking my brain for the best way to approach this conversation. I used to be so good with words, not only with my lyrics but with conversations too, yet I haven’t written a single lyric since I found Owen in his hotel room.
And tonight, my brain is continuing to betray me. How do I apologize for making a woman who has always been there for me feel like an afterthought, a tool to be used in my effort to distract myself?
Halfway down the dark hall back into the bar, Zoe appears, halting me in my tracks. She smiles, though there are questions in her eyes as she takes me in. Her confidence and posture scream she’s used to getting what she wants. Like this, with her chin lifted and her chest pushed out, her cleavage almost in my face, I’m suddenly turned off. I may have fleetingly entertained the idea of hooking up with her earlier, but now, I need to put space between us. All I want is to talk to Riley, to make her understand she’s not an afterthought.
“There you are,” Zoe says, touching my arm like she did at the table. “I thought maybe you’d left. Never been happier to be wrong.”
I offer a faint smile. It’s all I can muster right now. “Sorry. Just needed a minute.”
She giggles, her laughter tinkling. “Always so mysterious, on and off the stage.”
I don’t comment on that. She doesn’t know me—not as Hade, the lead singer of Sabotage, not as Hayden Hale, disaster personified. The Hade she thinks she knows is nothing but an image, a guy on tour posters, in music videos, performing on stage. I’m not that man anymore. I’m not sure I ever will be again.
“Wanna get out of here?” She bats her lashes. “I’d love to finish our conversation somewhere quieter. Your lyrics have helped me through so many bad days, and I’d doanythingfor a chance to get to know you better.”
The suggestion in her tone only brings a bitter taste to my mouth.
“That’s nice to hear.” I nod. “I really appreciate it.”
Clearly not sensing the shift in the mood, she steps closer. “What do you think? Want to head out?”
“Look, Zoe,” I say, trying my damnedest to keep my tone appreciative but neutral, “thank you so much for your time. I enjoyed talking to you, but I didn’t come here alone. And my friend”—I peer around, searching for Riley but unable to find her—“needs my help.”
“The girl who made a scene in the middle of the dance floor? That’s your friend?” She scrunches her nose.
Annoyed by her judgment, I shuffle backward and stuff my hands in my pockets. “Yes. Is there a problem?”
“Wh-what?” She recoils, her face paling, like she’s realizing her words don’t sit right with me. “No, no. I just…I don’t know why I thought you were here alone.” She lets out a breathy laugh. “You’re Hayden Hale, after all.”
“Yeah, I am.” I scan the crowd over her shoulder again, and this time, I find Riley. Thank fuck. But she and Nastya are heading toward the door. “Sorry. I should get going.”
