“What?!” She hissed out, stumbling to a stop as the shock coursed through her.
First, because…wow, what?!
Second, because… Darcy.
Juliet closed her eyes, her chest aching. Blythe and Emerson quitting We, The Romantics, would devastate her. Wascurrentlydevastating her, clearly.
She huffed out a breath, livid and hurt at Blythe on Darcy’s behalf.
“I’m coming.”
She hung up on Blythe without another word, charging up the stairs as she texted Laura to arrange her plane ticket.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Darcy laidon her back on the couch in the apartment, her arm flung over her face.
She felt so…
She didn’t even know.
She didn’tknowwhat to do. She –
A sharp, unyielding knock on the door cut through into her thoughts. It was the only sound she’d heard in the last twenty-four hours that hadn’t come from the din of music and clashing pins downstairs.
And she didn’t welcome it.
Groaning, she shouted, “I don’t want to talk yet, Blythe!”
“I’m not particularly fond of your sister right now, either.” Juliet’s unmistakable voice sounded from the other side of the door.
Shock jolted through her, and Darcy sprang right up from where she’d been laying for… an undetermined amount of time.
“Can you let me in, now? I caused a bit of a commotion downstairs when I walked in.”
Darcy was already wrenching the apartment door open by the time Juliet had finished speaking, her heart in her throat.
Juliet was always a welcome sight. She was Darcy’s favorite sight.
But it had never felt better to see her than it did right now.
As soon as Juliet stepped across the threshold, Darcy reached for her, wrapping her arms tightly around her and burrowing her face into her shoulder.
She felt Juliet swing the door closed, before she returned the embrace, holding Darcy snugly against her.
Her breath hitched, before trembling out, and she leaned heavily into Juliet. “What are you doing here?” She asked, her words slightly muffled against Juliet’s shirt.
“Blythe texted me.” Juliet’s breath fanned over her ear, as she moved her hands up and down Darcy’s back in a comforting motion.
She tightly squeezed her eyes closed, relishing in it. In the first real feeling ofcomfortshe’d had in the last day, since her world had started to come apart at the seams.
But hearing that was grounding in a way Darcy hadn’t realized she’d needed. Hearing that Blythe reached out to Juliet to check in on Darcy. That she’d respected Darcy’s request for space, and sought Juliet out on her behalf…
No, she hadn’t doubted that Blythe – or Emerson – loved her, despite ending We, The Romantics in one conversation, within forty-eight hours after their first tour. Well, she supposed, theironlytour.
Fuck, that hit her right in the chest.
“I didn’t have my phone, or I would have texted you,” Darcy murmured. It was the only reason she’d contemplated going back to Blythe’s. She didn’t have any of her devices; they were all in her suitcase.
