Page 159 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

“You’ve been angry for years.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Dylan goes quiet again.

Finally, Julian says softly, “Xander.”

I rub a hand over my mouth. I’m exhausted, tired in the deepest possible way. Tired of grief, of rage, of carrying this thing around that’s been poisoning everything it touches for years.

Dylan sees it happen. “I’m sorry.”

I look at him and all I can see is every version of us layered on top of each other. Kids in garages. Stages. Fights. Headlines. Funeral black. The moment I realized he’d slept with her and felt absolutely nothing at first because grief had already burned me hollow enough there was nothing left to hit.

Then later, when it finally landed.

Christ. It nearly killed me.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” I say finally.

Dylan swallows once. “I don’t know either.”

Julian leans forward. “Maybe this doesn’t get fixed tonight.”

Nobody argues, because he’s right. There’s too much here. Too much history. Too much damage sitting under every sentence.

Dylan pushes away from the counter. “I’ll go.”

Julian stands. “Probably smart.”

Nobody stops him.

The front door shuts behind him with a heavy, final sound that echoes through the whole house. Silence settles afterward.

Julian exhales first. “Well.”

I turn toward Gabe, who already looks braced for impact. “Why did you bring him here? You had no right.”

“I know.”

I stare at him.

My oldest friend.

The man who helped build this place with me.

The man who somehow managed to betray me while trying to help me in the exact same way only Gabe Stockton could.

“I trusted you,” I say.

“I know,” he says.

The worst part?

He means that, too.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Willow