Page 127 of Sweet Surrender

My gut churns hearing those words. At even thinking of being separated from her. “No. Put it on me. Whatever the reason we break up, put the blame on me. She’s going to get enough shit—”

“It has to be on her. You’re supposed to be squeaky clean, right? Can’t be to blame if you’re not.”

“Fuck.” I sigh into the phone. “That wasn’t part of this deal.”

“We’ll figure it out, Jase.”

I pause and then say the words I’ve been thinking. Words that mean so much more than what anyone else would take them for. “Thank you. I trust you.”

It’s good news so why do I feel like I’m just going through the motions—singing the notes, keeping the beat going, nodding along when Hawkin calls out adjustments?

My mind is elsewhere, that’s why.

On her.

On Hendrix.

On the way she looked at me before I left, like she was desperate to say what’s on her mind, but just smiled instead.

I know Vince had something to do with it. He showed up at the bakery, and since then, she’s been different. Distant. And I don’t like it.

“All right, let’s run through Fade Out one more time,” Rocket says, tapping on the keyboard keys.

“How about we don’t and call it a night instead?” I ask.

“You good, man?” Vince calls from across the room, eyeing me.

“Yeah,” I lie. “Fine. Just . . . tired.” I drop my drumsticks in my kit bag on the small table beside me, effectively ending the session myself.

“Are we wrapping?” Rocket asks and claps his hands together, his grin widening. “We’re wrapping. You know what that means.”

Vince grins. “Drinks at Sullivan’s to celebrate?”

There’s a chorus of agreement, but I wave them off, stretching out my shoulders. “I’m gonna sit this one out.”

Vince gives me a look. “Come on, man. It’s tradition.”

“Yeah, well, I’m breaking tradition.”

Rocket smirks. “You getting old on us?”

“Nah, he’s just going home to get laid,” Hawkin says, causing everyone to burst out laughing.

“Something like that,” I say and shrug.

No one presses further, but I catch Vince watching me as I grab my keys and head for the door.

I walk out to the parking lot and don’t look back.

I don’t need his shit tonight. Don’t need his big-brother schtick.

What I really need is her.

Hendrix.

The woman I’m beginning to think I don’t want to live without.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX