“It’ll be better for us both,” I said flatly as I walked to the door.
I went to open it, and Cal slammed his hand on it, right by my head. We were inches apart. He forced me to spin and face him.
“Walk out that fucking door, Reed,” Cal spat, his voice trembling with a rage so potent it felt like a physical blow. “Do it. Shut down. Self-destruct like a fucking timebomb, just like you told me a million times you hated. Go out there, be the face of this bullshit business built on lies, go win your titles, go find some naive girl who’s too self-obsessed to realize her husband doesn’t want to touch her. Go make babies. Go settle down in bumfuck nowhere.”
He stepped closer, tears streaming down his face, but his eyes were pure fire.
“Go find a fucking bottle, and go waste away in a fucking lie you created in your head because all you want to do is erase a world you were damned to exist in. But I’ve got news for you. I’ll always be on your fucking heels, Silas. It’ll always be you and I fighting for that light, and I will never, ever stop that fight against you.”
He shoved a finger into my chest.
“Even if you were sucking my dick and screaming for me to fuck you every goddamn night we’ve been on the road together for a damn year, I would never have stopped the fight. You may have a shitty legacy to avenge, but I’ve got my own to create, and I would’ve never let some piece of ass that wanted to see what a dick felt like fuck that up for me.”
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper that chilled my blood.
“But you know one thing I can promise? When it’s all said and done… when the ashes are done falling, when the crowd stops screaming… when you’re living your sham of a life, you’ll always think of me. Of us.”
He pulled back, his eyes dead.
“Because guess what? It’s righteous fucking desires, baby, and they’ll plague your infected brain until you die.”
17
NOVEMBER - CHARLOTTE, NORTH CAROLINA
Now playing: Sign Of The Times - Harry Styles
Iwasfranticallyknockingon room twenty-three fourteen. My knuckles rapped against the wood in a staccato rhythm that matched the hammering of my heart. My panic was past the point of return, and I had no other place to turn.
Evan flung the door open with wide, concerned eyes, phone still in his hand like he had been mid text. “Si?”
“Can I come in? Please,” I said, my body suddenly trembling so hard my teeth chattered. I felt like I was vibrating out of my own skin.
Evan nodded immediately, stepping to the side to let me pass. I walked through the door and flung my duffle bag to the floor with a heavy thud. The frantic pacing started again, wearing a groove into the hotel carpet. I couldn’t stop moving. If I stopped moving, the reality of what I had just done would catch up to me, and I was pretty sure it would kill me.
“Is everything okay?” Evan asked, closing the door softly. He was worried; he couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to. He stood by the door, watching me unravel.
I took in a huge, jagged inhale of air that felt like swallowing glass. My eyes watered, burning with the salt of tears I had been holding back since the elevator ride down. Cal’s words, his face, the way his voice dropped when he cursed me, it all started to swirl in my mind like a hurricane.
Righteous desires.
I felt faint. Was the room spinning? Or was it just my life collapsing?
I looked at Evan. His face started to drop, seeing the tears welling in my eyes.
“If I tell you this,” I choked out, pointing a shaking finger at him, “you have to promise it won’t change anything. You won’t look at me weird. And you will never,evertell Callum. Do you understand me?”
Evan nodded slowly and sat on the small hotel couch, clasping his hands together between his knees. “What happened?”
That was all he said. I couldn’t read the emotion. I wasn’t sure if he was just hiding it, or if he was bracing for a body count.
I stared at him for a minute, chest heaving, and with a huff, the words spilled out like vomit. “Cal and I have been fucking. Or seeing each other. I don’t know what it was classified as. But it’s over.”
The silence that followed was deafening. The hum of the hotel mini fridge seemed to roar. Evan just stared at me. His face didn’t say anything. Neither did his words. It stung. Why wasn’t he speaking? Was he disgusted? Was he angry?
“I figured, Si,” Evan finally said, his voice quiet, devoid of shock. “You guys weren’t exactly hiding it from me.”
I looked at him, stunned. My mouth fell open slightly. We were. We were doing everything to hide it. The flirting with women, the sneaking around, the careful distance in public, the coded language. This just proved my point, I did what needed to be done. If Evan knew, who else knew?
