Chapter 10 Raina
The soft sound of a knock travels through the closed door to my bedroom, breaking off my thoughts. It’s probably for the best; they weren’t leading anywhere good.
Without thinking, my mouth opens to call out to whoever it is, but I stop myself short. Fear streaks through me at the thought of using my voice, even if I’m at the point where I should be able to use it again.
One more day until I see my doctor. One more day until I find out if my future has been forever changed.
But hasn’t it already been altered?
“Come in,” Dare calls after catching my mouth hanging open stupidly.
The door slowly swings open, revealing Keaton.
My giant, broody drummer gives me an unsure smile before stepping in and unveiling Nash, Blake, and Tristan behind him.
They all share similar expressions, varying degrees of rejection over my spiraling depression dragging me down since we got home.
I know I was unfair to them, and to their credit, they did their best to rescue me from it.
But sometimes a girl needs to be in her feels for a little while and battle out of it herself.
Sometimes you need to be your own knight in shining armor to defeat the dragon.
As much as I wish I could say my dragon is slain, I can’t. But it’s at least wounded right now, I’m doing my best to beat him down… That’s progress, right?
“We need to talk,” Keaton says, coming up to the side of my bed. He doesn’t even hesitate in sitting beside me, making me scoot to the side to avoid being squished.
I guess they aren’t even willing to entertain the notion of me saying no. Not that I would after the talk with Dare. I’ve been keeping them at a distance, but maybe it’s time to let them in, even if I’m terrified to find out that they won’t love me anymore if I can’t sing.
“Jesus, Keaton. Ask her how she’s doing first,” Nash admonishes, shaking his head. “How are you doing, roomie?”
“Didn’t you ask her that earlier when she sent you from the room?” Blake questions. He crosses his arms over his chest, his legs spread in a stance that says he won’t be leaving for a while, no matter what I demand. It’s a challenge.
The bed dips as Nash joins us on the end of the bed. He tosses a scowl over his shoulder. “Just because we refuse to leave doesn’t mean we can’t be smooth about refusing.”
“You know Keaton is always straight to the point, why are you trying to change him?” Blake throws back.
“Standing up for how our girl should be treated isn’t wrong.
It’s a group effort to get things right.
” A mischievous smile spreads across Nash’s face, his eyes getting that gleam to them I love.
“Isn’t that right, Blake? Maybe we should practice a little more on our teamwork.
” He wiggles his eyebrows, and Blake’s face gets an adorable red hue to it.
I wouldn’t be surprised if there isn’t a blush heating my cheeks too. My thighs twitch, wanting to clench together to smother the heat growing between them, something I haven’t felt since before I was attacked. I didn’t realize I missed being intimate with them until now.
A sound draws my attention to the doorway. It’s a mix of a self depreciating scoff and a laugh. At least that’s my best guess. In either case, I find Tris standing there, his head angled to the floor where he shakes it. “Nice to know some things never change.”
My heart thumps in my chest at the sight of him. The bruising has mostly healed on his face, only slight yellowing in a few places, but he’s standing oddly, like he’s trying to protect his side even though there’s no threat. What happened to him? Where was he all that time?
I’m not sure why I’ve been keeping him at a distance.
When he showed up at the show, the crowd chanting his name and drawing my attention to him…
a part of my soul that was missing came back.
Which is stupid as fuck after the way he treated me, but I guess we can’t demand our hearts to listen to reason.
I was so freaking happy to have him back.
Thinking about it, I realize that I was running to him when I was attacked.
Maybe some unreasonable part of me blames him for everything that happened.
If he hadn’t disappeared, I wouldn’t have been rushing to get to him, I wouldn’t have left the others behind and I wouldn’t have been alone in that hallway.
My rational side knows it wasn’t his fault. Not even a little bit. But the vulnerable side that was terrified out of my mind, that died and woke up forever changed... Yeah… she kinda blames him. Maybe even blames all of them because they weren’t there. Everyone but Dare who brought me back.
“Peaches, give me some more room. I’m hanging off the side,” Keaton grumbles, pulling me from my thoughts. I glance to my side and gauge how much space there’s left between me and Dare, not wanting to cuddle up to his side with everyone watching me. I’m not sure how they’d react.
“You have the plague, man?” Nash asks with a nod of his head toward Darius, raising a questioning eyebrow.
“I sure fucking hope not,” Dare responds with a laugh.
“Why don’t you want to touch him then?” Nash asks me, his gaze piercing as if trying to dig out my secrets with that playful smirk still clinging to his lips.
“Such a sweet bunny,” Blake murmurs under his breath as he wipes a thumb across his lower lip, a smile playing across his face. “No need to be afraid of our reactions.”
I feel slightly called out, like they all know the attraction I’ve been fighting for so long. Swallowing, I close the distance between us, his warmth instantly sinking into my side as his hand innocently lands on my knee.
Keaton presses against my other side, sandwiching me in between the two of them. An unexpected warmth flows through me, a sense of complete safety. Something I value more than ever now.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Keaton’s voice seems to vibrate through me, commanding my attention with his no bullshit tone. “Tristan won’t tell us where he was until you can listen too, so that’s what we’re going to do. Then we’ll discuss not shutting people out when we’re in pain.”
It’s a lot of words at once from Keaton, at least it is when it’s not just the two of us. That alone has me refusing to be defensive, even if he didn’t directly call me out on it.
My hand squeezes around my notepad, and I swallow, bracing for the pain even though my throat has mostly healed from it. The echo of hands choking me out is still there even now.
Needing a distraction, I flick my eyes to Tristan. His gaze is fixed on me now instead of the floor. Knowing my attention is on him, he takes a step forward and begins his story from the moment we stepped off stage together on the day he disappeared.
I thought I hated, despised, downright loathed Napalm Delights before, but now it’s amplified tenfold. I fucking hate, hate, hate them. The way they manipulated me, separated me from everyone else in my life and made me entirely dependent on Dickless… ugh! I want to stab them or something.
They deserve worse than that, though. I wish gruesome deaths on them all, long, drawn out, and painful as fuck. Especially since they thought they’d killed Tristan and left him for dead!
Top of my to-do list: write a song about them dying.
Before I’m even able to think it through, I’m crawling from my spot between my two guys and across the bed to where Tristan stands and throwing my arms around his neck.
The movement has me teetering on the bed, forcing Tristan to compensate to hold on. He hisses, and I try to move back, worried I somehow hurt his ribs, but he squeezes me to him tighter, not willing to give up the contact.
“I missed you so much, Lexi. I’m so fucking sorry you thought I disappeared on you again,” he whispers in my ear. His hand moves to the back of my head, fingers weaving through my hair and cradling me so perfectly it makes me want to cry.
Taking a deep breath in, I’m consumed with the smell of him and nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. I want to be closer to him, to hold on and never let go. He’s my first love and always will be. There’s a connection there that no sense of time or heartbreak can fracture.
Bergamot and leather fill my lungs, a scent I can’t get enough of.
“I’ll never leave you again, Lexi. That is, if you’ll let me stick around.” He kisses the side of my head. “I know you have Darius playing lead guitar now, but I promise I won’t be deadweight. We’ve written amazing songs together, I’m useful there.”
The doubt in his voice shows how vulnerable he’s feeling. I’m not sure why he thinks he has to play some vital role in the band, I couldn’t give two shits about that. He can sit around and be a sugar thirst trap for me, and I’d be fucking happy.
I just want him.
It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
“I’ll earn your trust again,” he murmurs, his voice cutting off with choked emotion.
“I know,” I say out loud, unable to keep the words inside. Two syllables filled with grit from disuse, my voice sounding dirty and ugly. I don’t have time to dwell on it because Tristan draws away from me, taking his warmth and tempting me to make a squeak of objection.
His hands quickly cup either side of my face, holding me steady in front of him so he can carefully catalogue every expression, judging if I’m serious or not.
He must decide that I am, because a weight seems to slough off him, his shoulders appearing to not be as heavy and the tension in his face is quickly replaced with a growing smile. He kisses my cheeks multiple times, his lips soft. Each one makes me want to melt as his happiness flows out of him.
“I love you, Lexi.”