Page 160 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

Something is absolutely going to explode.

I don’t know if it’ll be the label, the brothers, Gabe’s blood pressure, or my own nervous system, but there is a very distinct feeling in the air today that something somewhere is one wrong sentence away from becoming a crater.

Which is why I’m aggressively avoiding all of it.

Unfortunately, all of it keeps finding me anyway.

“You look tired,” Lara says as she slides a plate into the kitchen window.

“I’m exhausted.”

“You’re twenty-five.”

“That’s old in waitress years.”

She snorts and points a spatula at me. “You’ve been jumpy all morning.”

I grab the plate. “That’s because people keep slamming doors like they’ve got personal beef with hinges.”

“Mm.”

I narrow my eyes at her and carry the food out before she can say anything else terrifyingly accurate.

The diner is busy today.

Busier than usual for a weekday, which I’m blaming entirely on tourists and the fact that half the town is currently pretending not to care that Redemption Records exists while simultaneously discussing it every fifteen minutes like it’s a local event.

I pass table four, moving toward the counter, but my attention keeps drifting.

Toward my phone, the memory of last night, toward Xander standing in that kitchen looking like rage was the only thing keeping him upright.

I haven’t heard from him today.

Or Gabe.

Which feels worse than if I had.

Julian texted around nine this morning.

Julian: You alive?

I stared at it for a full minute before replying:

Willow: Physically, yes. Emotionally, unclear.

Julian: Same.

Helpful.

Very stabilizing.

I drop off another order and nearly collide with Nina as she walks into the diner.

“There you are,” she says. “The town’s most emotionally avoidant waitress.”

“I’m working.”

“You’re wiping the same counter.”