Page 7 of Worth the Fight

“Well, shit.” Not much I can say to ease the assholery he did to her.

“Pretty much.” She draws the words out.

“And yet you still love him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” The hurt in her eyes said it all for her.

“Being with someone for almost two years doesn’t make it easy to turn off the feelings, no matter how much he screwed me over.”

“Literally.”

Her eyes, storm clouds of emotion, flash up from where she’s pouring syrup on her pancakes. For a minute, I think she’s going to cry, but then she surprises me when she throws her head back and laughs.

“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“Yep.” I take a sip of my coffee and watch her. She’s pretty. No, not just pretty, but sexy. There is a difference between the two. And not in the classic sense, but there is definitely something about her that would make any man look twice. The bitch riding her ex was completely wrong. “So . . . the project you’re finishing . . . is it his?”

“It’s the label’s, but yeah, it’s with him.”

“That must suck, having to write music for someone you hate.”

She shrugs. “To put it mildly, but that’s the problem, we write good music together. And even if we didn’t, we’re bound by contract to get twenty songs turned in over the next four months.”

“Twenty? Christ. Why so many?”

“Labels like variety. They like to decide what song is the best fit for the current musical climate. In the end, they’re the ones who have the ultimate say over what songs make the album.”

“You can write the lyrics without him, then?”

She nods as she chews. “Each song is a different process. Sometimes, it’s the lyrics first and then the music, sometimes it’s the music and then the lyrics . . . other times it’s side by side, verse by verse. I’m hoping we can avoid that last one this time around. The less I see of him, the better.”

“Why?” I ask, prompting her to look at me as if I’ve grown two heads. “You’re either running from him because you’re pissed and never want to see him again, or you’ve taken off because if you stay, you know he’ll wear you down, get you to forgive him, and then start your relationship song and dance all over again.”

She glares at me for a beat. That’s all it takes. “Maybe I just want to check the box for all of the above.”

“Understandable. There’s no judgment on my part for whatever box you check. Hell, maybe you can write a song about a jerk musician who cheats on his girlfriend and then falls off the face of the earth. That might let him know where he stands with you.”

“Such an active imagination.”

“Funny. Mallory said the same thing last night.” C’mon. Turn those lips up. “And she finally smiles . . .”

Her eyes soften, her smile widens, and she shakes her head before eating the last forkful of pancake.

Mission accomplished.

CHAPTER THREE

DYLAN

“I feel like such a prick. The one time you really need me, and I turn you away.” My brother’s voice warms me with his sincerity and makes me snuggle deeper into my spot on the couch.

“You didn’t turn me away. You have twin baby girls in a two-bedroom house. I think you have your hands full as it is. Besides, this is more than fine. I needed somewhere to crash long enough to give me a breather, get my work done, and clear my head before I head back and figure shit out. If I were at your house, I’d probably be so distracted playing auntie that I’d never work.”

“I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, but I still feel helpless. I’m your big brother. Between you taking the burden with Mom⁠—”

“You have the twins. The last thing you need to be thinking about is Mom and⁠—”