“Fuck.” He swept his thumb over my cheek, as if wiping away the tears that hadn’t yet fallen. My spine tingled in response.
“Say something,” he asked.
This was most likely going to be a massive mistake.
“Okay,” I said. “Okay. Talk to him, and if he’s fine with it, I’ll keep working with you. But he can’t talk to me like that again.”
Relief flooded over Cole’s face, and he dropped his hands back down to his sides. “He won’t. I promise you that. Thank you.” He crossed the distance between us and pulled my body into a fierce hug. As he held me, my tension slowly unraveled. “Thank you for giving us another chance. You don’t know how much this means to me,” he said, his lips moving against my hair. “I’ll message you tonight,” he said, pulling away but letting his fingers linger on my arms for a second longer.
It wasn’t until I got home that I realized I had forgotten my guitar at the studio. I’d never forgotten my instrument anywhere before. It was as if fate was telling me that I wasn’t yet done with the four men.
SILAS
We had spentover ten years together working through creative differences, living in close quarters, practically breathing the same stinking air. In that time, I’d never resorted to physical violence, but as I watched Cole run after Adeline, I thought the day might have finally come.
Abel stood where she’d left him, his palms squeezing the desk behind him so hard his fingers had turned white. The only thing stopping me from throwing the punch was the flash of regret that crossed Abel’s face as he took in my and Ezra’s expressions. It was like he knew exactly how much of a shithead he was being, but he just couldn’t stop himself.
Why is he doing this?
That question had been on my mind a lot over the past few weeks. His behavior didn’t make sense in the context of everything I knew about him. Abel was a complicated man, but like the rest of us, he believed in a few simple truths.
Music was purpose.
This band was a brotherhood.
We were stronger together than we were alone.
Charlie’s death couldn’t change that, could it? It would be like an earthquake making gravity no longer work. Disasters, devastation, loss—they were companions to life, but they didn’t invalidate any of its fundamental rules.
I ran a hand across my face, forcing the fury back from the center of my thoughts. Then I looked at the singer and shook my head, unable to hold back my disappointment. “Talk.”
He rolled his eyes. The fucker rolled his eyes.
“I feel like I’ve said plenty.”
“Good for you. Generally, when people speak, they aspire to make sense. Since you haven’t made a single coherent point yet, I’m hoping there’s more.”
Abel pursed his lips. Ezra sighed, flicking his gaze between the two of us. The fact that he had tried to keep Abel in check on the drive to lunch hadn’t gone unnoticed by me. He was finally coming back to himself. I wish I could say the same about Abel.
“She’s too young. We need someone more experienced.”
“Bullshit,” Ezra countered, saving me from screaming the same thing. “She’s better than most of the guitarists that open for us.”
“I don’t like her energy.”
God, he was infuriating. “Elaborate.”
Abel wouldn’t look at me as he said, “She is just too…enthusiastic. I don’t want to work with a fan.”
You’d have to stand outside the building to not smell the bullshit. “It’s a bad thing that she likes our music? Would you prefer she hate us?”
Ezra scoffed incredulously. “I’m starting to think there’s something seriously wrong with your head, Abel.”
The singer pushed off the table, getting into Ezra’s face. “How quickly you changed sides,” he hissed. “All it took was a hot piece of ass.”
Unintimidated, Ezra stared down at Abel. “Actually, I remembered that there are no sides.”
I heard Cole enter the room behind me and signaled to him with my palm that he should stay out of this.
