Pieces of Me (The Wilder Brothers #9)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

GAbrIEL

“In breaking news, the band Wilder is facing a tremendous loss. The world mourns what could have been and the lives of nine people. The music industry is in shock as we wait to hear what will happen to the band, the families of those lost, and those left behind. As Malcom Ashford is laid to rest today, the world has one question on their mind: Is this the end of Wilder?”

I turned off the TV, but not soon enough. Honestly, it didn’t matter anyway. I could still hear the damn voices in my head. No matter the person speaking, they all said the same damn thing.

It had been four days since the accident. Four days since I had lost everything with a heartless word and a callous mistake.

I hadn’t broken my leg, but I’d bruised it enough and sprained my ankle that it was a near miss. Thankfully, I was able to wear a damn boot. If I could be thankful for anything. I had nearly lost my spleen because I had been an idiot walking to Briar’s room as I had. I didn’t regret it, though. The need to see Briar had taken over—just like it always did when it came to her—and I hadn’t thought past that moment. I couldn’t remember much of the accident other than the grinding sounds and me throwing myself over her. It was the least I could have done, but it wasn’t enough. She had been hurt anyway.

I had four bruised ribs and two cracked ones, but they all felt the fucking same. My hands hurt like a bitch, and even if I wanted to pick up my guitar, it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. My body was one giant bruise, and yet, we were the lucky ones.

Six of our crew were dead. Crew members that had been with us since the beginning. Who had helped load and unload, who had made sure we knew where the hell we were going. Crews that always wrote the city and state on a piece of tape on the inside of the curtain, so we knew where the hell we were. Crew that made sure that we were stacked in drinks and food and condoms. Crews that made sure we weren’t making the worst mistakes of our lives.

Our crew was dead.

And so was Lacey. Because she and her band—along with Mal—had been on the front bus.

The buses that had been in the back of the line with the rest of the crew and most of the band were fine. They had been able to stop in time.

We had been on the third bus. Our bus driver had a concussion, but thanks to his quick thinking and reactions, he’d been able to stop in time and in a way that the people behind us were safe. And our bus hadn’t rolled or caught on fire. Instead, we had just crunched like an accordion.

But Briar had bled.

And I wore every ounce of my bruises and shame like I should.

It hadn’t been just those two, though. The second bus had been our crew. Six of eight dead. Six people that I knew and cared about were dead.

A drunk driver had gone across the median and had caused a pile-up on the curve. And it had been dark, and the buses did what they could.

The authorities said the only one at fault was the drunk driver.

And they hadn’t died. Instead, they had walked away with a broken arm, and hopefully a jail sentence.

But the first bus…I swallowed hard. The first bus had the opening act. The band who would have one more show with us before we knew they would hit it big.

It had crumpled up like a piece of paper, metal and jagged shards of glass everywhere.

Most of the band were broken and bruised, needing surgeries and rehabilitation, but they would one day walk away. Lacey wouldn’t. The sweet bassist, who had always had a smile for us, was dead. She wouldn’t be smiling anymore.

I tried to stand up, ignoring the pain in my leg as I limped over to the fridge to get a beer.

Mal was dead.

Mal was dead, and the last things I had said to him had been in anger. And he hadn’t even been able to look at me before he had walked away.

I would never be able to fix that.

“Are you ready to go?” Brooks asked as I stood there, beer in hand. “You don’t need a beer now. It’s not going to go well with your meds. We have to head to the cemetery, Gabe.”

I stared at my big brother, wondering why he of all people would go to a cemetery. He had lost his fucking wife, and yet was somehow still standing here and wasn’t running for the hills like I thought he would be. Instead, he was going to stand by my side as I said goodbye to my best friend. Like I wasn’t the problem in the first place. Because if Mal had been on our bus, he would’ve been fine. I ignored the part of me that whispered that Mal was going to be on that first bus no matter what. Because he had wanted to be with Lacey for the night. I ignored that because if we hadn’t fought, maybe he would’ve stayed. He should have stayed.

And now here I was throwing Brooks to the wolves, forcing him to face death once again because I couldn’t handle it on my own.

My other brothers had wanted to come, but I had shouted and screamed and said only one. Only one because I couldn’t let them see me like this.

So it was Brooks that was here, the others at home with their wives.

Because they were moving on and having a life, and I was ruining everything.

“I don’t need to go. They don’t want me there.”

“Why wouldn’t they want you there, Gabriel? You weren’t the drunk driver. You weren’t driving the bus. You kept Briar alive. You know that, right? The doctors even said that with the way that you huddled over her, you kept her smaller frame from being crushed. You didn’t do anything wrong, Gabe.”

That was a damn lie. I had done everything .

“Let’s just get this over with. I can’t believe they’re burying him here.”

In Ashford Creek—the home he had grown up in. The home Briar had grown up in.

My brothers and I had moved around often when we’d been kids, maybe not as much as our cousins who were former military, but we had moved around enough. Now the rest of them were all settled in South Texas, finding a home. While I drifted from place to place, finding my own way. I didn’t have a house, just storage units, since I’d sold my last place when the security had been an issue.

Living the life of a rock star.

Well, what kind of living was this now?

Now we were here at a place that Mal had hated. Hated as much as he loved. All of Mal’s family was here, at least the ones he had left, and I wasn’t sure I could face them.

Brooks moved forward, pulling me from my thoughts. “You need to go. Believe me. I didn’t want to be there the day I said goodbye to Amara. But I did. I said goodbye to her, because I needed to. And it was the second worst day of my life. So you’re going to do it too. Even though you hate it, you’re going to do it.”

“And if I don’t?” I asked, knowing I was an idiot.

“Then I’ll drag you. And it’ll be more of a media circus than it already is.”

I rubbed my hand over my face and cursed as I realized that I was still bruised and cut up. “There’s not much we can do about that. The vultures are always around.”

“So are fans. They all want to pay their respects, but I don’t know if it’s helping.”

“Nothing will help, Brooks. You know that.”

My big brother sighed, and I could feel the history of that breath over me. “Then let’s go. We’ll have this funeral, and then we’ll do the next.”

I nodded, knowing that Lacey’s was next, and then we’d have to figure out what came after. The crew’s all had been yesterday, having decided to do a service as one before they were buried with their families. So we had said our goodbyes, and I had stood in the back, wondering what I was supposed to say.

And now we were here in Ashford, and I didn’t know what else I was supposed to do.

I set down the beer, grabbed my cane, and followed Brooks. Every step felt as if my ribs were crackling like rice on a flame, but I ignored it. At least it was something I could feel.

Brooks drove us to the cemetery since our main security guy, Jeff, would be driving alongside us. I took a seat at the edge near David, Joshua, and Rocky. They were there with their families, tears falling freely down their cheeks. And I had nothing left.

Words were spoken, Joshua even going up to sing, but I didn’t.

There was no need for me to play. Not when I didn’t have a song in me.

I listened as Mal’s family took their turns to speak. Mal’s eldest brother, Callum, spoke first, his voice gruff and face pale. Mal’s twin, Bodhi spoke next, and once again it was a kick in the gut to see Mal’s face on the other man’s body. The two had been nothing alike, and yet it felt like Mal stood there, speaking over the casket in front of him. Teagan went next, then the other two brothers. Briar was the only one who didn’t speak, and I didn’t blame her.

The Ashfords spoke of the boy he had been, and some of the man he had become. But they didn’t know him like the band had. They hadn’t been on the road with him these past years like we had. Briar knew, though. She’d been there all along by our sides. Making music and becoming an honorary Wilder. And the last words I had said to my best friend were a fight.

As the service ended, my best friend lowering into the ground, I finally stood back up and watched the dirt pile over him.

I had broken my best friend’s heart by doing things I had promised I would never do.

And I couldn’t fix it.

Gazes bored into me, and I was afraid it was the paparazzi, the media, fans, but no, as I looked up glaring, Briar took a step back, her eyes wide and her face so pale. I stood there and looked at her, and I couldn’t feel a damn thing.

She turned and settled into Callum’s side, and they took her away.

I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say to her anyway. What did I say to the woman I tried not to want? What did I say to the woman I told myself I’d never fall for? What did I say to the woman I’d lied to?

Because I remembered that night.

Every touch.

Every feeling.

And the falling that I’d waited until it was nearly too late?

For a man who wrote words for a living, I had nothing left to say.

“Come home,” Brooks whispered, breaking me out of my spiraling thoughts.

“I don’t have a home. He was my home.” I pointed to the hole in the ground, my voice finally breaking.

But I would not shatter here. Not with people watching. Not when my face would be splashed over the media, as if they cared.

“ We are your home. Come home Gabriel.”

I swallowed hard, not having an answer. I didn’t want to go with my family. I didn’t want them to see what I had become.

They called me the voice of an angel, but now my best friend was the one dancing in the stars with them. And I had done it. It was all me.

I gave one last look in Briar’s direction, but she didn’t see me, didn’t look back. So I turned to Brooks.

“Fine. Home.”

But it wasn’t home. It would never be. I didn’t have one. Didn’t deserve one. So I left with my brother, heading to the Wilder Retreat. And I left the cemetery. And I would leave the fame. Leave the band. And leave everything behind.

I shattered everything in my touch, leaving the pieces behind.

I would never be able to find forgiveness. Not when the one person in the world who I needed to forgive me was gone. Buried and covered with dirt.

There was no need to look back. Because nobody would be searching for me.

And that’s just how it needed to be.