Page 152 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

I look down at the gravel beneath my boots. “And that’s why they don’t talk?”

“That’s part of it.”

“There’s more?”

Julian nods. “We lost our bandmate, Josiah. Xander’s best friend. Bandmate. Brother in every way that mattered, except blood.”

“He died?” I ask.

Julian nods once.

I think of Xander’s eyes. That controlled, frozen blue. The way grief sometimes sits behind them like an old bruise nobody is allowed to touch.

“Oh,” I whisper.

“Yeah.”

The word is small.

“And Dylan wasn’t there,” Julian continues. “And also had the affair.”

Shit.

“What have I gotten mixed up in?” I whisper.

Julian’s gaze comes back to me. “Us.” His mouth curves faintly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “We’re kind of a lot.”

“That might be the understatement of the century.”

“Probably.”

A shout echoes faintly from inside again. I flinch before I can stop myself.

“Come on,” he says gently. “I’m taking you home.”

“I drove here.”

“Then I’ll drive your car and take a cab back.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Most of my best ideas are.”

I look at him. He smiles, but it’s softer than usual. “Let me get you out of here, Willow.”

I should argue.

I’m very good at arguing. It’s one of my core skills, right behind carrying too many plates at once and pretending I don’t have feelings.

But I’m tired, overwhelmed, and I can still hear Xander’s voice inside the house. So, I hand Julian my keys.

“Fine,” I say. “But if you adjust my seat settings, I’ll never forgive you.”

His smile grows. “Noted.”

“And don’t judge the emergency candy in the cup holder.”

“I would never. I would silently appreciate your preparedness.”