On the slow ride up to the penthouse, I mull over my life choices, from dating guys who turn out to be assholes to coming to Hade’s rescue the moment I’m asked.
He’s fine; he’s going to be fine. I’ve repeated those words since I stepped out of the studio, but the tiny voice in the back of my mind continues to challenge me with questions like,What if he’s not?
It’s not just that Hayden isn’t answering calls or texts. It’s not just that he’s isolating again. It’s the pattern. Since Owen’s death, he’s been through so many cycles like this. Some days, he’s as lively as he’s ever been, but those days are inevitably followed by days ofsilence—and those have been more frequent over the last several weeks. The way he’s declining lately scares me. So does how easily he brushes off the concern any time one of us brings it up. He says he’s grieving, but it’s so much deeper than that. According to Piper, he’s stopped writing music. The label gave the band a year off to grieve, but now, it looks like that was a disservice.
When he’s in the kind of state I assume he’s in today, he shuts himself away. He refuses to fly home to California to see his family. He won’t even hang out with Jimmy and Bo.
I know what depression looks like—hell, I lived it. I fucking danced through it, smiling and playing it cool while the stress of trying to be the best of the best and fighting for ballet roles was burning me alive. I know how good a person can be at hiding their worst parts when they don’t want to burden those they care about.
And Hade is really damn good at it.
The desire to hide our pain can be strong, but holding it inside hurts more. I can help him, but only if he lets me.
I tap the key card he gave me when he bought this penthouse several years ago, and when the lock clicks open, I take a deep breath and brace myself.You can do this, Riley.
Inside, the only sound comes from the TV. I close the door and kick off my shoes, easing my duffel bag to the floor before I wander down the dark hallway toward the glow of the screen.
His living room is massive, but it feels empty. There’s no natural light today, with the curtains drawn over the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. The charcoal gray sectional is half-buried under a crumpled throw blanket and a pile of his clothes. The grand piano in the corner takes up a fair amount of space, but it’s covered in stacks of unopened mail. If I took a closer look at the guitar in the stand beside it, I’d probably find dust. Empty containers and glass bottles litter the coffee table. The air smells like stale takeout and weed, the only movement the flicker of light across Hade’s face as he sits slumped on the couch.
He’s in a black hoodie, hood pulled up, and black sweatpants. His attention is glued to the screen, but he’s wearing a vacant look, likehe’s not actually seeing the movie. His phone is face down on the coffee table, probably on silent.
Straightening my spine, I step further into the room.
“Seriously?” I put my hands on my hips. “You can’t answer a single phone call or text because you’re too busy watchingFast & Furious?”
Hayden jumps slightly, his wide eyes meeting mine, his mouth open.
“I never should’ve given you a key,” he rasps.
His words sting, but he’s hurting, so I let them slide. “Hunter and Piper are freaking out,” I say, moving closer. “As are your parents. I’ve sent a million texts, four voicemails. Each one was increasingly aggressive, so I’m sorry in advance.”
He sits up, but he won’t meet my eye. Instead, his focus drifts back to the movie.
My blood heats with anger. I’m too tired for this behavior. “Hayden, what’s going on?”
“Sorry. I put my phone on silent.”
“The issue with your phone is secondary.” I stop in front of the TV so he can’t ignore me. “You disappeared on everyone. Again.”
“Everything’s just…loud.” He roughs a hand down his face.
It’s not the first time he’s used that word. Not painful, not stressful.Loud. Like his thoughts are screaming inside his head, but no one else can hear them.
I ease onto the cushion beside him and take him in. God, it’s fucking worse than I thought. His dark green eyes are rimmed red, his usually clean-shaven jaw covered in thick stubble.
My heart aches for him.
Why are you doing this to yourself, Hayden?
The man looks like he’s fading away.
Words bubble inside my throat, but none of them feel right. They won’t fix this situation. A single visit won’t either. I need to show up, again, and again, and again, until he understands I’m here for him no matter what.
So, I swallow my words and sit beside him.
After what feels like an eternity, he turns to me. “So. The date. How’d it go?”
I groan. Why did I mention it the last time I was here? “I don’t think I want to go there.”
