Chapter Thirty
CHAPTER THIRTY
GEMMA
“—responding to a scene outside of a club in the early hours of today,” the news anchor is saying. “Multiple injuries reported. The club reports this happened outside of their building, and insists it does not represent their usual clientele—”
I tap back over to Kade’s messages.
Anything on the car? Lance?
KADE
Nothing.
Last night was sloppy.
I shove my phone into one of the pockets of my joggers as I exit the elevator, my mind running wild. I don’t know what happened with the car or the people outside who I beat the shit out of. I don’t know who found the car or Lance’s dead body, but neither are on the news. Someone got to the scene before Kade and Liam, wiped it clean, took care of my mess, and now, I’m sure I’m on someone’s watchlist that’s even more shady and powerful than Damien.
Maybe even Damien’s boss.
Kade didn’t even bother scolding me last night as he and Liam video-chatted me while I stitched my forehead at home. Maybe he could see the defeat in my eyes or hear the tremble in my voice.
And when I showered after, I watched even more of my blood circle the drain.
Another cut for failing her.
It’s always the insides of my thighs, and always in the bathroom—a habit I picked up when I was younger to try and hide how I was hurting myself. It was the only part of my body that I could hide the marks on during track meets in high school. The shower the only place that would wash away the blood with no trace of it ever happening.
And now I watch it disappear in memory of the girl who thought she’d have to do the same.
I crawled to Bonnie’s apartment last night just to watch her sleep, to silently cry as I replayed killing Lance in my head. Every word I said to him. The way it fucked with my head as much as I wanted it to fuck with his. I became so overwhelmed watching her dream that I had to touch her. I needed to feel her.
The highlight was hearing her call out my name.
Shit, I want to hear that again.
I shouldn’t be as happy about that turn of events as I am. I shouldn’t have been so delighted at watching her struggle to call Zeb to come untie her on the cameras. Still… it was a happy bonus that lifted some of the weight on my shoulders—even if it was only for a few hours.
It’s back this morning after listening to her voicemail.
I can’t believe I missed it last night.
I feel like such a horrible person for that. I should have texted her back, even if Kade said he’d called to make sure she was okay once the noise alert went off on her cameras, letting him know she was talking to someone or someone was in the apartment.
I wish I could be the confident person I was just two days ago, flirt with her as if nothing is wrong, but fuck this is hard.
There’s a dewy dampness in the air that I can feel even inside her building. The smell of it hitting the grass outside somehow wafts into the hall. The sun hasn’t even peeked over the horizon yet. I’m standing on the other side of Bonnie’s door in a cropped band tee and wide-leg printed pants that pool perfectly around my sneakers, waiting for her to answer after a couple of knocks.
Bonnie unlocks the door and twists the knob to open it, except she doesn’t actually answer.
I’m immediately taken aback as I push the door open wider.
I don’t know why seeing her apartment in disarray is a surprise when I watched her packing things already this morning. Still, it has me hesitating to speak, like the room is a reflection of her racing mind—
And she’s running around as if she hasn’t taken a breath since I left her a few hours ago.
“Good morning?” I say cautiously.
“Ah… hi,” she says, grabbing a bag. “Sorry. It’s a disaster in here. I haven’t been able to fully get a grip on this moving idea.” She stuffs a few shirts into the open bag from her bed, and I push my tender hands into my pockets.
“What can I do to help?” I ask.
“Nothing, I—”
She’s moving in circles, avoiding looking at me each time she crosses my path.
I finally reach out and grab her wrist, forcing her to halt and turn in my direction.
“Hey—Whoa—Stop spinning a second—You’re making me dizzy,” I say as my grip slackens.
Bonnie stares at my neck, her shoulders tense, cheeks pink like she’s embarrassed.
“Bonnie, what’s up?” I ask.
Because she won’t look at me.
And while I have an idea, I’m desperate to know what she’s been practicing saying for the last few hours.
Please look at me.
I need to see your eyes after last night.
I need this image more than I need the one of you on the floor.
She finally meets my eyes, and—S hit . She looks fucking terrified.
To the point that I’m scared I missed something last night.
Did someone call her? Come to her door when I wasn’t looking? What did I miss?
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Her eyes suddenly widen, and it hits me that she’s staring at the cut on my head.
“Oh my god—” She reaches up to my face, her thumb hitting the stitched cut on my forehead. “ Oh my god —Gemma, what happened?” Her gaze searches over the rest of me, finally landing on my hands, and again she says my name.
“It’s fine. I’m fine,” I say, taking my hands away from her.
“You’re bruised,” she says. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I brush her off. “Yeah. Duty can be hazardous sometimes.”
Her brows narrow. “Were you taking care of something for us?”
I hesitate slightly, eventually giving her as best of a reassuring smile as I can. “Something,” I say. “It’s just a few bruises. Nothing serious.”
Nothing, except I killed someone for us last night.
“Ah… wow,” she says, pressing her hand to her forehead. “I suddenly feel like such an ass… I thought you were just avoiding me last night. I tried calling you. I thought… wow . Wow, I am such a bitch.”
My tongue darts out over my lips, and I shake my head. “No. No, I’m sorry about that. I should have texted you when I got home,” I counter. “Were you okay? Did anything happen?”
Talk to me.
Tell me about the phone call.
“Nothing,” she says. “No, I just… I think packing was getting to me. I was looking for a distraction.”
I hug my arms around my chest as she backs away from me and begins throwing more things into bags. “What do you mean packing was getting to you?” I ask.
“I mean… it’s this place. Memories. It’ll be hard to let go,” she replies.
It’s killing me not knowing whether this is a response to calling out the wrong name last night or something else—her way of pushing me out. I don’t like it. I can’t let her push me out. I need her to talk to me so that I can actually discuss the phone calls and tell her I’m the one who won’t let anything happen to her.
Packing is getting to me.
“Can I ask you something?” I say after a minute or two of contemplating her fear.
“Sure,” she replies.
“What’s so special about this place?”
Bonnie slows to look around, and I watch as her shoulders droop slightly, as she finally seems to inhale a full breath.
Slow down, rockstar.
It’s okay.
You can slow down with me.
Be selfish. It’s okay.
“This is where I got clean,” she says solemnly. “These are the walls that kept me safe after the second rehab stay. This was my fresh start.” She pivots, her eyes scanning the room as if she can see the ghosts of her past in the walls. “I guess it’s just hard to let go of that… of really anything that pulled me out of the pit.”
The way she says the last sentence makes me pause. Anything that pulled her out…
“What can I take for you?” I ask as she sits a couple of bags on the counter.
She pushes a duffle toward me. “This one. And my pillow, can you grab it?” she asks.
I feel like I’m walking her out to rehab again.
Fuck, what have I done?
I did all of this to her.
I brought those guys back into her life because I didn’t take care of them the first time. She was doing so well, and then I came back, and I…
Maybe her avoiding me for a few days will be a good thing.
“Anything,” I tell her.
I was wrong.
This is fucking killing me.
It’s been a full week of her barely speaking to me, barely allowing herself to stay in the same room with me for more than a few minutes without asking one of the guys to join her. She still hasn’t told me about anything —not the call, her stalker’s texts, how the song is going, not a single joke… Nothing . Her glances are short, her cheeks always heated when she looks my way.
While the band has been recording and working nonstop, so have Kade and I from one of the back rooms. We’re trying to make sure everything is ready for Radio Eleven—flights, cars, their trailers, added venue security, routes, aligning with Heartless…
I’m dying inside to know what’s going on in Bonnie’s head. It’s killing me to pretend that all I’m worried about is some random festivalgoers and the fact that both Rad and Trevor are supposed to be there.
Fucking Rad…
If I see him… I can’t promise that I won’t black out. I’d love to tell the venue he’s banned, that if he shows up trying to get in, they are to send him packing. However, with the size of the festival, that’s nearly impossible. Their staff is only there to scan people in, not deal with a single possible threat to one band out of fifty-three.
Kade doesn’t want me moving around the festival on my own—too fearful that I’ll drug Rad and drag his ass to the trailer I’m sharing with Kade and Liam, especially after the altercation the other night at the strip club.
What’s more, is the way I have to keep this all together and act like I’m not dying as we sit backstage on the grass at this festival.
I glance across the space at Bonnie, who’s laughing at something Andi is saying on the picnic blanket nearby. Zeb chimes in on her other side, the three of them nearly bending over in hysterics. Her tattooed arms are out, barely more than a cropped tank over her body, fishnets and shorts on her legs.
She’s such a rockstar.
We arrived at the festival overnight, and after some much-needed sleep, the band did back-to-back interviews with local radio stations and entertainment journalists. They’re finally finished and able to eat dinner, so we’re huddled on a few blankets in the grassy area backstage, the noise of the opening band in the distance. A few friends have stopped by to clap their hands and chat, and as the latest group pauses to chat, Kade nudges me.
“Check this out,” he says, handing me his phone and pressing play on the video on the screen.
It’s this morning’s newscast from home. The only photo in the top corner is their usual “caution tape” crime banner. I tap the closed captions so I can read what the anchor is saying instead of turning the volume up.
“—gang and drug-related activity that resulted in one fatality at a local apartment complex. Authorities are urging anyone with information to come forward, and citizens are reminded that any source of information will remain anonymous—”
The anchor moves on to the next story as if ten seconds of airtime is all they’re allowed to give what police are referring to as “gang-related activity.”
Thank fuck for that.
“Cheers,” I say, hitting my sparkling soda water can against his.
“—we thinking for tonight?” I hear Bonnie asking the group. Her voice grabs my attention, and I glance over just in time to see her pull her knees into her chest and sneak a peek my way.
“Could work on Bonnie’s jam,” Mads suggests.
“Honestly, I’m pretty beat,” Zeb says, stretching his arms. “Probably pass the fuck out on that bed in the trailer.”
“You just want to sleep,” Andi teases him.
“Of course I want to sleep,” Zeb agrees. “Who doesn’t love sleep?”
“Isn’t there a party tonight?” Reed asks the group. “Foster’s doing a livestream, right?”
“No partying,” Stella says, looking up from her phone.
“It’s video games,” Reed argues.
“No partying,” she repeats.
Reed opens his mouth to speak again, though I chime in before he has a chance.
“Hey, she’s right,” I say, willing to take the blame if they need a villain. They all gawk at me, and I stand to go over to their blanket so I’m not yelling.
“Are we on lockdown?” Reed asks, a little too peaked at the idea.
“No, no lockdown,” I tell him. “You all have a very early soundcheck in the morning followed by an interview with that one very perky blonde woman who did your interview at DeathFest—”
“Abby,” Stella chimes in.
“Yeah, Abby, from Radio Eleven. So, lights out tonight. They’re rolling through each band on the main stage before the gates open. I have instructions from Rock that say—and I quote— if any of you fuckers aren’t on time, I’m going to have a roadie fuck with your set list .”
Everyone looks at Reed, and he glances around the space as if he’s confused as to why people are staring at him.
“What?”
“Where is Wren again?” Mads asks Reed.
“She’s still in Milan, why?” Reed asks.
“So, that’s…” Zeb counts hours on his fingers. “Eight hour time difference?”
Reed nods. “Yeah. Why?”
“They’re trying to figure out if you’ll make it on time to soundcheck or if one of them needs to stop by your trailer and get you,” Andi explains.
“I’ll get him,” Zeb says.
“I’ll be fine, guys,” Reed says. “I’ll be up at sunrise to talk to Wren. I’ll be there.”
“Don’t fall back asleep,” Zeb tells him.
However, Reed waves him off. “I’m good.”
“I have to go take care of some things before the morning,” Stella says, standing. “Please listen to your very capable bodyguards,” she tells them. “The headlining band will be doing their soundcheck before you, then you’re up. Be on time. This is serious. Avie isn’t here yet to give you the morning wake-up brigade like usual. Don’t embarrass me.”
“We’ll be there, Stells,” Mads says.
“Yeah, pinky promises.” Reed holds up his finger, and each band member latches their pinkies onto his to swear they’ll be there.
She eyes them. “I’m trusting you,” she says before walking away.
“Night, Stella!” Reed yells after her. “Hey.” Reed nudges Bonnie. “Want to crash Foster’s livestream tonight?”
Bonnie grins. “Hell yeah, man. Didn’t he say it was a onesies stream?”
“Pajamas, gaming, and metal.” Reed laughs. “Perfect. Zeb, you in?”
“Sleep, dude,” Zeb says, standing. “I’ll catch you fuckers in the A.M.”
Reed leans closer to Bonnie as Zeb leaves them for the night. “I think he’s chatting with someone.”
“Nah, that’s not it,” she disagrees. “His youngest sister is here somewhere. I think he’s stalking her to make sure she doesn’t sleep with some random dude.”
“Shit,” Mads groans. “He’ll be in fucking jail tomorrow.”
I peer toward Kade, and he nods his understanding.
“I have him,” Kade says confidently.
“I’ll go to Foster’s with you two,” I say to Reed and Bonnie.
“Guess that means you’re with us, Liam,” Andi says as she and Mads get up to leave, grabbing the picnic blankets with them. “You can go back to your trailer and take a nap if you want,” she adds.
Liam chuckles. “I might.”
Their voices fade from earshot as they disappear, leaving Reed, Bonnie, and me. Bonnie jumps onto Reed’s back, and I laugh quietly at the pair when we descend into darkness toward the trailers.
He finally places her back on the grass, and they high-five, Reed telling her he’s going to get his pajamas and meet her at her trailer in five. The entire exchange is muffled in my ears because all I can think about is the fact that I might finally get her alone and hopefully figure out why the hell she’s avoiding me.
“—five minutes,” Reed says. “You can time it.”
“Let’s be real, both of us have time blindness,” Bonnie says with a laugh. “We might make it to Foster’s before midnight.”
“We can do this.” He starts backing away, pointing toward her. “Five minutes!”
She chuckles at him. “Five minutes.”
And as her gaze moves to me, that smile fades.
God, what have I done?
“You up for a night of gaming, Gemma?” she asks awkwardly.
“If that’s what you want,” I reply.
Talk to me.
I will beg right here.
Just say something that isn’t forced.
She gives me a half-smile and turns to the steps, intent on heading inside to change.
And I follow her because I’m fucking desperate.
“Hey,” I say, launching up the steps to catch up with her. “Can we talk?”
Bonnie barely acknowledges me as she takes her bag off the floor and begins rummaging through it for clothes. “Ah… sure. What’s up?”
I shut the door behind me and pause between the couches. “I wanted to ask if everything was okay,” I admit. “You’ve barely spoken to me since the morning after the hike. I don’t know if I did something wrong.”
“No,” she says quickly. “No, you haven’t…” She twists and pushes her hand through her hair, messing it up in the most perfect way. “I’m okay—I mean, we’re okay. It’s just being busy with the song this week, thinking about moving, the fact that someone tried to get into my apartment, and then when you had Kade checking in on me the other night instead of you, and I couldn’t find you—which I know is because you were doing things, but… I think it’s all piling in.”
What the hell?
“Whoa, wait,” I say, confused. “I didn’t know you were upset about any of that.”
“Which part?”
“Ah… Let’s start with you being upset that Kade checked in on you. Was that the night before our hike?”
“Yeah,” she replies. “I called you to come over, and you had Kade check in. I wanted you.”
I can’t tell if she’s actually mad or picking a fight in an attempt to push me away.
“Where is this coming from?” I ask.
“Just… never mind. It doesn’t matter. If it did, you would have come the other night.”
I nearly balk, confused as fuck by this turn of events. “Bonnie, we went hiking the next day,” I say deliberately. “We talked, all day long . I met Darcy. We spent hours together. We even kissed. Why didn’t you say anything then?”
She huffs in disbelief. “You couldn’t tell something was wrong? You kissed me because why? Because you thought it would just make me forget? Was that part of your job, too?” She presses her hands to her hips and shakes her head at the ceiling. “Funny that you—who’s supposedly interested in me—can’t come when I need you, yet if I were to tell my stalker I was remotely scared, she’d be there in seconds.”
I blink. “Are you comparing me to your stalker? ”
She pauses as if she didn’t mean to, as if it was a comparison in her head that she’s been thinking about for days now, like one of us is better at loving her than the other.
“You didn’t say anything about being scared or worried when we talked the day after the hike. You didn’t say anything about your stalker. How was I supposed to know? Did she come over?” I ask.
She scoffs and shakes her head, avoiding my eyes once more. “It doesn’t matter.”
“What the hell, Bon? Where is this coming from?” I ask as I take a few steps toward her. “I thought we were fine. We talked—”
“I said it doesn’t matter,” she interjects. “It never did. I’m just another client to you.”
Fuck.
She is a fucking expert at this pushing-away shit.
A phone rings, and my stomach drops to the floor at the noise of it.
Bonnie whips her head around for the ringer. Her eyes are wide, the color quickly draining from her cheeks.
I remember I have to act like I don’t know anything about it.
She finally picks up her phone and stares at the number on the screen, the electronic seeming to shake in her trembling hand.
“What’s wrong? Who is it?” I ask, though I’m on the verge of puking knowing that it could be those guys again.
“I don’t…”
“Is it her?” I ask through my panic. “Your stalker?”
She shakes her head. “No. No, she doesn’t call. She never calls.”
“Do you want me to answer?” I ask.
She shoves the phone into my outstretched hand, then presses her hands behind her head. “Take it. I can’t. I can’t hear that voice again.”
My brows raise. “Again?”
Her eyes are glassy when they finally meet mine. “Yeah.”
The word is barely above a whisper, as though she thinks if she speaks too loudly, they’ll be able to hear her. I hate the fear in her dark blue eyes, the memory of the panic on her face the other night coming to the forefront of my mind.
I don’t want to hear that voice either.
Even so, I tap the green button and try to keep my face as neutral as possible.
“Who is this?” I answer.
The beat of silence that follows makes my ears ring, and when he speaks, my insides turn frigid.
“ Hello, Gemma. ”