Second Sets Omnibus

Twenty Nine - Asher

Kieran slams the Tahoe door, running a hand down his face. Glaring up at my father's office window, he shakes his head and shrugs at me. Maybe that's a good sign that the old bastard is finally loosening the leash of our collars. Pfft. Fat fucking chance. Nigel Montgomery has a knack for being in control. If it isn't his idea, then it's not possible.

Kieran doesn't wait for me, opting to head into the house with his head hung low and his hands in his jeans.

The weekend plays on repeat in my mind. I promised myself the moment we left Central City that I would let whatever happens—happen. It didn't take a genius to know what we would do to pass the time the moment we stepped into a secluded lake house.

My time with River was highly eye-opening and fucking hot. Being deep inside her pussy and feeling the effect I had on her—twice over was invigorating. Swallowing hard, I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my damn dick to go back down before I step out and deal with my father. Oh, yeah. That did it.

Just as my hand attempts to open the door, my phone vibrates in my pocket repeatedly. Scrunching my brows, I dig it out of my pocket. Who the hell calls people these days? Especially so late in the evening? Scammers, that's who. Shit. Looking at the number on the screen, it screams scam call. Out of the area, area code. Long number. I roll my eyes, expecting a robot when I answer the phone.

“Yeah?” I ask, blowing out a breath. “Listen, if this is a robot scammer…”

A chuckle greets my ears. “Uh, nah, Man. Not a scammer, I promise. You'll want to hear this. Is this, by chance, Asher Montgomery, Ashton Radcliffe, Kieran Knight, or Callum Rose? This was the phone number we had on the application for the submission.”

Number on the submission? Jesus. Fuck. My fingers tighten around the phone in fear of dropping it as my palms dampen. My heart beats out of my damn chest and falls onto the dash. All the blood in my body swishes in my ears, almost drowning out the voice on the other end.

“Uh, yeah. This is Asher,” I say, swallowing hard.

My back stiffens at attention when I take the phone off my ear and stare at the number again. Only this time, the location of the call sits under the number—East Point Bluff, California. California. Fucking, California. Gasping for breath, I bring the phone back to my ear just in time.

“Fucking awesome, man. I was looking at your submission again for the thousandth time, and I'm blown away. Do you know how many applications we've gone through trying to find such a unique sound? Thousands. And you guys are fucking it,” he says with so much excitement that goosebumps break out my arms.

My entire body locks up. Butterflies blossom in my churning gut, threatening to send my dinner up. Is this happening? Is this a fucking joke at my expense? Deep breaths, Asher. Deep fucking breaths.

“You… you what? Wait? Is this…”

“Hey, man, I'm Seger West. I'm calling on behalf of West Records. We are pouring through the submissions this week, and I gotta say, Whispered Words has the shit we're looking for. Fuck. You guys were…”

“Not professional, dude. You can't say fuck to potential winners. You'll scare them away with your Seger attitude,” another voice says in the background with a scoff.

“Fuck off, Elf Ears,” Seger grumbles, returning to the phone. “Sorry, man. My brother is…”

“Husband-in-law! I swear you're ashamed of me. It's been how many years now?”

“Shut the fuck up, Elf Ears!” another person growls in the background. “He's in the middle of a phone call. You're worse than Dash when he wants a fucking cookie. Jesus. I have enough kids to wrangle. I don't need you, too.”

Seger sighs heavily, muttering a few colorful words into the phone, and everything dies down behind him.

“Jesus. Sorry. My brothers are helping me with this whole event,” Seger says through a tired breath. “Anyway, you'll get something in the mail with a formal invitation today. We've overnighted everything. But we just wanted to talk to the guys behind the music. Your fans are incredible, too, and your sound… I can't wait to hear you live,” he gushes in a low voice.

“Holy… fuck,” I gasp out. “You're serious? You're fucking serious! We got… we got in? We fucking made it?” I ramble into the phone as my thoughts catch up to the situation.

“Yeah, man. You guys are the shit! Once you read the letter, it'll have all the information you need. We'll see you guys in a few weeks!”

“Holy shit. Thanks, man! Thanks for taking a chance on us! Wait till I tell the guys they'll be…” I trail off as haunting words play on repeat in my mind.

“We'll wait for you, River!”

“We can play in Chicago! No problem!”

“There will be a next time.”

After exchanging goodbyes, I hang up the phone, slowly dropping it into my lap. Slumping in the seat, I lick my lips. How the fuck am I going to get them to California if they're more concerned with staying with River than playing in the band. This is our fucking band—our only chance to make it in the big leagues. Tours. Buses. Recording studios. Screaming fans. They're all within grasp, handed to us on a silver platter for the taking. And here they are, convinced they'd wait for her.

Like fuck.

I will not let my brothers wake up regretting their life choices one day. No matter the consequences. No matter how much I'll hate myself and drown in my guilt, we're going to California. No. Matter. What. With or without River West.

Callum

River's mom is in the hospital. Something happened last night.

Rad

She's super sick, man, and River… she's…

Callum

She's not okay. I can't get her to… move or speak. She's just….

Rad

Catatonic.

I take a few breaths, swallowing down the panic rising inside me. Despite the win we just achieved, nothing but desperation claws through me, threatening to pull me under the waves of anxiety. If River's mom is sick, how the hell am I going to convince them to go to California with me? They'll insist on staying behind and caring for her even more than they already do. Fuck. Listen, I'm not a cold-hearted bastard, but we've had our sights set on this goal for years now. I can’t idly sit back and let our plans derail off the tracks. If there’s one person who can keep these fuckers’ eyes on the prize, it’s me.

Whatever it takes.

Me

Fuck, man. Tell Little Brat I'm sorry. We'll be there soon.

Kieran frantically knocks on my window with concern etched on his face. Rolling it down, all the energy rushes from me, and my head swims in a fog of confusion. It's on the tip of my tongue to sing our win and confess everything. Something holds me back, though, keeping my lips sealed. For some reason, I need time to think about everything. River. The competition. And our promise to her.

“I'm going to meet them at the hospital. Wanna go?” he asks with his brows furrowed. His fingers fidget in the open window, drumming against the car's interior.

I shake my head. “I'll meet up with you in a bit. I'll grab whatever River needs. Just text me, okay?”

“You good?” Kieran asks, looking me up and down. “You look like you're up to something.” His nose scrunches. “Or about to shit your pants.” I blanch at his words, shoving my hand into his chest and pushing him away. He smirks, swatting at me when he rights himself.

“I'm fine, asshole. Just go away. I'll be by in a bit. I'll unpack and shit.” I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Fine, shitbag,” he grunts, shoving off my Tahoe and climbing into his own. He glares at me with suspicion when he pulls out of the driveway and peels out of the neighborhood.

My eyes gaze up at the large, intimidating house full of an array of monsters ready to attack. Whether they're manipulative gold diggers or the devil himself, they reside here in a seemingly ordinary neighborhood. With trepidation, I climb out of the car and head into the pits of Hell with my head held high. Finally, hope shines somewhere in the back of my darkened mind, slowly coming out of the box I shoved it into years ago. It fills me to the brim with anticipation and so much goddamn hope I could vomit. This is fucking it. We're achieving what we set out to do. We fucking got in! We did it! Now, all we have to do is blow the rest of the competition away and leave no doubt in the West brothers’ minds that we’re the best.

When the front door closes behind me, I'm greeted by a smug-looking Gloria bustling around the kitchen. With practiced grace, she sets a few sets of papers on the countertop, grinning as she reads the words. Eyeing her face, I note the lack of bruising and swelling, meaning my father must be far away on his so-called business trips.

“It seems we have a score to settle,” she says, sitting on the edge of the stool in front of the paper, tapping them with her nail.

“How so?” I raise a brow, strolling through the living room with my hands in my pockets.

A million thoughts race through my mind as I settle across from her, crossing my legs. A bored look crosses my face when she grins more, tapping her nails against the papers on the counter. Thick silence encases the room, doing little to rile me up. Her beady blue eyes glare at me when I huff, rolling my eyes.

“Speak, for God's sake, Gloria. Spit it out already,” I growl, reaching the thin end of my patience.

My fingers curl and uncurl on the countertop, waiting for her to finally open her mouth and reveal whatever bullshit she has up her sleeve. But my patience wears thin when her eyes widen, and her lips flap like a fucking fish out of water.

The stool squeaks against the linoleum floor when I abruptly stand, digging my phone from my pocket. I don't have time for her shit, especially not today. Not after this weekend. And not after that phone call I received. I need to plot this entire thing and expertly move the pieces on my board before I make any moves.

“This is yours,” she says, gesturing to the paperwork on the counter.

I grunt, walking back and sitting down. She swallows hard when I scowl in her direction, making the poor woman flinch. If I were nicer, I would hold back the anger brewing slowly inside me, but I can't seem to help it around her.

“What is it?” I ask, putting a hand out, and thankfully, she gives it to me.

“It's everything you need for the competition,” she says, sitting back and folding her arms across her chest in victory. “Remember our deal?”

I raise a brow, flipping through the pages.

Congratulations on your win! The West brothers have officially chosen you and hand-picked you to participate. Please read the rules below…

The contest will be held at the KC Club in East Point Bluff, California, on December 15th of this year. All chosen participants will receive a call directly from the showrunners, confirming their win. All selected participants must RSVP within seventy-two hours by texting 555-425-1933 with their answers. All chosen participants must arrive on December 14th for registration.

“Seems you only have two weeks to make it out there,” Gloria says, staring down at her manicured nails with a smirk.

“Seems that way,” I huff, continuing to read the stipulations and rules. Fuck. I need Callum to read these over, so we don't miss a damn thing. The last thing we need is to forget a damn rule.

“Which means,” she says in her snobby voice. “You only have a week to get everything in order.”

My heart pumps double time at all the shit we have to do to get to the damn contest before it starts. Packing. Getting money. The car. Fuck. Getting the guys on board and…

“Here's the five grand,” she says, waving around an envelope full of cash. “And my word that your father hasn't found out. In fact, he'll be on a business trip for the next week or so.” She lifts her chin, looking smug as hell. But I'm too concerned with the amount of shit I have to do to pay her any mind. She can jump off a cliff for all I care.

“Great,” I say, collecting the paper and shoveling it back into the envelope they came in. “You know it's a crime to rifle through other people's mail.” Looking over my shoulder, I look at her, and she shrugs, holding onto the cash with a firm grip.

“Callum asked me to look for the mail,” she sniffs. “You have been away for a week.”

Every possible outcome runs through my mind.

“Remember, though,” Gloria says, climbing to her feet and brushing her hands down her pants. “The other part of our deal. I'll give you the extra funds if you…”

“Yeah. Don't worry. I won't forget about you and Camilla.” I shake my head. I can only imagine how insufferable my father will be when his two main punching bags disappear from the situation.

“And?” She raises her brow, coming to stand in front of me.

“Would you spit it out? I don't have time for this.”

“The girl stays here. No matter what. She'll ruin everything we've set out to do.”

“We've? You mean the band?” She swallows hard and waves her hand.

“Of course, your band,” she scoffs.

I wipe every emotion from my face and nod. No matter how much I want to fight it, Gloria's right. The guys are ready to hand over the keys and fucking stay here in Central City, where we'll never go anywhere. We'll never get our band off the ground if we stay for River.

Gloria's grin grows a mile, and she bounces on her toes. “If you want my advice,” she says, leaning in as I scowl. I don't want anything from her. I want to lie down and collect myself. Maybe take a hot shower and leave the memory of River down the drain, which is impossible to do. “A little birdy told me you'll want to speak with Donavan Drake. He might have a few ideas on how to rid yourselves of the trash. Pictures included.” She taps my cheek condescendingly and waltzes away with a victorious pep in her step.

God. Burn my eyes out now. Please take me away from this miserable place.

Although, I don't blame her for wanting to take my sister and run for the hills. My father is less than desirable. She has an ass-backward way of doing things. I sigh, rub the headache away from my forehead, and pull out my phone. My plate fills higher and higher with bullshit, but I know the remedy to alleviate it.

As I step into my bathroom and set my phone on the counter, I take a long look in the mirror. My tired, hazel eyes stare back at me, bloodshot and guilt-ridden. My messy blond hair sticks on end as the room fills with steam, slowly erasing the face in front of me.

Every choice I've made has been for the band—my family. The boys who have grown to be my brothers in the shit storm called life. Whatever I do with this information will affect us, even River. She won't go unscathed. It may break her heart for a week or two, but she's resilient and one tough chick. She'll move on to some other poor schmuck, and then, we'll be a distant, painful memory. That's all the motivation I need to contact the last person I ever thought I'd want to speak with.

Me

We need to talk.

Staring at the blank screen, I shake my head and jump into the shower. Memories of our weekend flash through my mind as my fingers work through my hair, massaging my roots. My eyes squeeze shut, and I groan at the images sitting behind my eyes. River’s naked form sprawled out and ready for the taking. River panting and moaning as we fuck her against the dining room table. The taste of her flesh as I licked the salt off and forced my tongue down her throat. My fingers tightly wrapped around her throat, squeezing until she silently begged for breath. My dick impaling her over and over until she screamed my name. Fuck. My dick gets hard as the heat pounds against my back and neck, washing away the world pressing down on me. I stare at my traitorous dick. It was one weekend of fun, and that's it. I made myself a promise and let go, embracing what I had wanted since the Ferris wheel. Her. The whole package. And now that I had her, I had to let go and let her essence wash down the drain with every ounce of guilt pressing down on me.

Once I'm out of the shower and running the soft towel across my skin, clarity hits me smack in the head. I know exactly what I have to do to get us through this and onto California without the distraction. Now, all I have to do is set it all up.

Me

How's Little Brat?

Walking into my room, I get dressed in jeans, a shirt, and a sweatshirt.

Kieran

…. Meet us in the ER.

Rad

Can't say it through text, bro. But it isn't good and…

My heart sinks. They said her mom was taken by ambulance and sick, but did she succumb to whatever was ailing her? Jesus. That would complicate everything times ten. But whatever the issue, I'll push forward with all my might and get what we need. It's for the better of the band… my family.

The smell of cheap, burned coffee fills my nose when I round the corner, greeting the solemn faces of Callum and Rad, resting in the uncomfortable-looking ER waiting room. Tears stain their cheeks, and a deep-red tint fills their glazed eyes.

The whole drive to the hospital had my thoughts in a tailspin of worry, guilt, and trying to convince myself I was doing the right thing. I am, right? Am I doing the best thing I can for the guys? For the fucking band? I’m the one looking out for them. They don’t know what the fuck they want right now. Well, except for a win at the Battle of the Bands. One day, I'll be able to reflect on this and not drown in the misery I've created for myself.

“What's going on?” I ask, coming to a halt right in front of them.

My brows furrow when Rad shakes his head with tears streaming down his cheeks, and his bottom lip quivers with anguish resting in the depths of his dark eyes. Instantly my heart drops, and the worst possible outcome runs through my mind. What the fuck happened? My gaze drifts to Callum, burrowing into the stiff seat with white earbuds resting in his ears as he drowns out the rest of the world, covering his eyes with his hands. The old Callum, the one so stuck inside his head with the awful memories of his past, slowly emerges, taking away the blossoming butterfly Callum had become. My jaw clenches. She may have brought him out of his shell, breathing life into his lungs with her wild ways, but she's the cause of all the heartache on his fallen face. If it weren’t for her, then we’d all be peachy. But she’s come in and fucked us all up. This is just the cherry on fucking top.

“It's bad, bro,” Rad whispers through an array of emotions clogging his throat.

“What is it?” I ask through the tension rising in my chest, beating down on me.

“They tried so fucking hard,” Rad says, wiping away the tears. “Her mom is gone,” he mumbles, gripping his hair tightly. “She fucking… she fucking died because we took River away from here. They said something about an infection in her blood.”

“No,” I bark, plopping down next to him and gripping his shoulder. “This is no one's fault. If she was sick, this was meant to happen.” I give him a sharp nod when he slumps in the seat with a twisting expression. More tears escape down his cheeks, and he sniffles.

“Where is River?”

Rad's lips roll together, and his brows furrow. “Talking to the funeral home people. Some pastor came by and prayed with us, but uh, they needed to know where to take the body in the morning.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “How did this happen, man? I don't understand. Stella was a good woman she…” he chokes on his words, bringing a fist to his mouth, stopping his words.

Knots form in my gut, memories of death smothering me. Stella, River's mom, is no longer with us. Unlike my mother, it wasn't by her own hands. It was something her body did to her and let her suffer. My heart mourns with River, who's probably so distraught she doesn't know what to do with herself. And I feel for her. I’ve been through it before at a younger age. No one prepares you for life without the woman who brought you into this world. She’s supposed to live for an eternity by your side, helping you as all mothers should. But now, River won’t have that opportunity.

“It happens to the best of people,” I murmur, eyeing Callum as he heaves a shuddering breath. The storm hiding in the back of his blank eyes startles me into putting my hand on his shoulder and gently squeezing. Looking at me, he shakes his head, breaking our eye contact. Slowly, the old closed-off Callum takes the reins and refuses to meet my eye, staring at the floor instead.

“Where was her nurse?” Rad sniffles. “Where was anyone?”

“Her symptoms were like the flu,” Kieran says, stumbling into the seat beside me. “They said she would have been feverish, puking, and feeling sick. The neighbor checked in on her and gave her Tylenol but didn't recognize the symptoms for what they were.” Grabbing his long, dark locks, misery takes over his twisted expression.

“How's Pretty Girl?” Rad asks, jumping to his feet. “We need to be with her.”

“She asked me to leave,” Kieran grumbles, lips twisting into furry. “She's hiding in her fucking grief and pushing me away.”

“Maybe we should give her some space,” I say, folding my hands in my lap. “She doesn't…”

“Like fuck, bro. Respectfully, of course. River pushes us away when she doesn't want us to see her vulnerabilities,” Rad snaps, getting in my face. “I won't be dragged away when she needs us.”

I sigh, nodding. I knew it would not be easy to convince them that we needed to give her some space and talk sense into them.

“She wants to be alone.” We all jump when her best friend Ode marches out of the emergency room doors with a grim expression, shaking her head. Her heated, dark eyes lock on us, and she sighs, hurt, making her face fall. “She even kicked me out,” she mutters, putting a hand on her forehead. “My mom is going to take her home. We need to give her a day or two to process, alone. That’s how she handles shit. It’s stupid, but that’s the River West way.”

“Let's regroup at Callum's,” I suggest, getting to my feet. “Make her think we've given her space.”

Looking around, I see the war brewing in their minds. They don't want to, but they know we need to. River will push and push until we're so far away we'll never get back. And somehow, this works into my plan to pull them as far apart from her as I can. Pain tightens my chest at the thought of abandoning her like my father did to me the moment my mother took things into her own hands and ended her existence. Unlike me at the time of my mother’s death, River has a family with Ode and Korrine. They’ll guide her through this rough time with love and compassion.

River doesn't need us. Not now.

“Fine,” Kieran barks with a frown, pushing past me with a rough shoulder check. “Let's go to Callum's and work out a plan. But after tomorrow, I'm not leaving her alone. Do you fucking understand? I'm here for her. No matter what.”

Fury blazes to life, lighting up his haunting mismatched eyes, giving me all the confirmation I need. He's too deep, and it's time to pull the plug.

“Men,” Ode mutters under her breath, rolling her eyes. “Could one of you run me home, please?” she asks, eyeing each of us with raised brows.

“I will,” I say with a sharp nod, gesturing for her to follow. The more distance I can put between the guys and River's apartment, the better. “I'll meet you back at the house,” I confirm before they do something stupid like camp out at the hospital all night or try to break into her apartment again.

“I'm going to bake her a pie,” Rad murmurs, putting his love into his food. “And fried chicken, potatoes, and corn.” Listing off more food, he rambles on until he's settled into his car and starts it, cutting him off. I wave each of them off and take Ode home without a word.

“Thanks,” she says, climbing out. “And uh, you know. I don't usually say this shit, but you guys have turned River around. She's been in this funk for years, working her ass off. And then you guys come into her life, and I've never seen her smile more. You guys don't know what a gift you've been to her. She's my best friend; all I want for her is the best. So, uh, thanks,” she says with a grimace, shutting the door before I can speak.

She won't be as accommodating when I have the courage to answer the text message awaiting me. It came through at the hospital, discreetly vibrating in my pocket, but I refused to answer when so many people were around. Indecision pushes at my mind, and guilt pushes down on me like a heavy weight on my shoulders. Now is the time to embrace River and take her with us; let her grieve in our arms as we make our dreams come true. Not run away and do it all ourselves. But what other choice do I have? They’re eating out of the palm of her hand, bending over backward to make her happy. What about us? Me? Our dreams? That’s what it all boils down to—our future. We can’t sit around here forever waiting for River to decide what she wants to do with her life. We need to act now while the iron is hot, and our talent is what they’re looking for—not three years from now when she graduates.

Leaning over, I catch my reflection in the mirror and quickly look away. I do what I have to do to ensure our future stays on track.

Their words from our trip play in my mind, making the decision easier.

“We'll wait for you.”

“We’ll wait for you…”

“We’ll stay if you can’t go…”

Instead of going to California, they'd rather risk our careers and stay with River. Sweet, sweet fucking River. The girl we sought out to help us get to this point. And now, everything is one big fucking mess. They’re damn near in love with her and ready to propose a fucking five-way marriage.

I heave a breath, glaring at the ceiling. Without overthinking my actions anymore, I grab my phone and look at the screen, swallowing the heavy lump in my throat. One message rests unread from an hour ago that I haven't bothered to answer. Or fucking look. If the guys knew what I was up to, they’d fucking murder me on the spot.

Me

I need to talk to you.

Van

Why?

Me

You want your girl back, right?

Don't get shy about it now.

We all know who you want.

Silence rests in the night air around me when I pull the Tahoe out of the parking lot of River's apartment complex and drive toward home. Looking down, I spy his response and risk texting and driving.

Van

We can talk. When?

Me

Now. I'll be there in twenty.

Nerves eat away at me the closer I get to my damnation. There's no going back. The moment I open my mouth, I can't take it back.

As I get closer to my destination, the world passes by in a blur. I'm so lost in my guilt that I don't register when I pull up in front of Van's house, or he gets into the passenger's side, slamming the door hard.

“What do you mean to get your girl back?” he asks with slight desperation ringing in his voice.

Fuck. This might be easier than I initially thought. From what I have planned, Van will be an intricate part I can't afford to lose.

“Exactly what I said,” I grumble, throwing the car into park and keeping in the shadows. Callum's house may be a block away, but there's no way they'll see me from here. “So, do you want her eating out of the palm of your hand again? Or what?” Disgust burrows in my gut at my own damn words. What in the fuck am I doing? I close my eyes. It's what I have to do. But fuck. River's mom just died. She's in goddamn grieving, and here I am, plotting behind her back.

Images of River float through my mind. Me behind her, pounding her hips against the table. Her moans will forever live on a shrine in the back of my mind. Nothing will erase them. Not even the hate she'll feel for me, in the end, could erase our intricate past. But as far as I'm concerned, in another week, we'll never hear from her again. We'll be too far away in California, living our dream. And she’ll be here, living hers.

“What's in it for you?” Van rightfully asks with suspicion.

“Her away from them. Us in California. Take your pick.” I shrug, watching the shadows dance along his face as he processes my words.

“You got in?” he asks in disbelief, with his jaw hanging open. “Holy hell.”

“Now, imagine once we leave. Her mom just died. Who do you think River will come running back to?” I lift a brow when something dark sparkles in his eyes, and he nods.

“Oh shit,” he breathes, eyes widening at my words. “She’s dead? Now she’s more vulnerable. Perfect,” he mumbles more to himself than me, rubbing his palms together. “She's always been mine.” A certain amount of possession rests in his tone, enough to raise the tiny hairs on my arm in alert.

Right. Always been his? Isn't that a load of shit? My heart squeezes. Fuck. What am I doing? I'm handing River over to a fucking psychopath. Not that she'd ever waltz back into his life, anyway. But that's the grand illusion of it all. River will never want Van. Not again. Ever. She'll always pine for the boys who walked away if I can get this plan to work. If I… I take a deep breath, already regretting this conversation. What the fuck am I doing?

How's that saying go? If you love something enough, you should let it go, and if it genuinely loves you, it'll come back. That's laughable at best. Once we escape and the boys forget about her, we'll never see her face again. And that's what I'm forcefully doing. I'm peeling their fingers from around the butterfly, setting us free and letting our band escape.

My heart pounds as I stare out the front windshield, noting the frigid wind knocking against the windows. Little white flakes float down from the sky, melting on my windshield when they hit, leaving tiny wet droplets behind.

“So, you didn't come talk to me without reason. What is it?” he finally asks, focusing entirely on me.

“You have something I need.” Something crucial to pry their fingers away from River and something that will knock them back and down a peg or two and reevaluate their relationship with her. They wanted her exclusively, with no extra boyfriends in the background. With a sigh, I feel the enormity of my words.

He snorts. “Something you need? And what could that be? You've been pricks to me since you all started seeing her and stealing her away from me.” He shakes his head. “So, why should I even help you?”

“Because I know what you did,” I say, side-eyeing him when he stiffens, and his expression hardens.

“You don't know shit about me,” he growls through clenched teeth. “Are we done?”

“I find it funny the one night you're not stalking River through the bar is the same night she gets laid out and almost taken advantage of. Or is that just a coincidence?” I raise a brow when he pales, unable to keep his shame off his face, but quickly hides it behind his rolling eyes and twisting lips. “I'm sure the cops would love to hear the tidbit about you organizing the entire thing so you could feel like some sort of disgusting hero,” I huff, feeling revulsion slither through my veins like a thick sludge weighing me down, hoping what I’m saying isn’t true. But the fact is Van’s a slimy piece of shit who is desperate enough to pull something as disgusting as this off.

“You… What the hell do you want?” he asks, swallowing his nerves without refuting my claims against him. My damn heart sinks at the realization of what he’s done, but I shake it off and push forward with my stupid plan, even when my stomach rolls and vomit creeps up my throat.

“A little birdy told me you have some videos. Videos, I don't want to know how you obtained pictures. You. River. I need them.” My eyes burn into him as he wilts under the pressure and slumps.

“Why?”

“I should ask the same. Does River know you filmed your sex life with her?” I seal my lips shut, holding back the vomit threatening to break through. If there's one thing in my life I'll regret forever, it's this. I am stooping so damn low to obtain the ultimate dream that I’m disgusted at my actions. “Send them to me, and all will be forgotten. By next week, we'll be forgotten. River will run to you, and all will be normal.”

We sit silently for another moment, and Van nods, getting his phone out. “Sure,” he says, scanning through his phone, clicking a few pictures, and then hitting send. “What're you using them for?” He asks when my phone vibrates, but I refuse to look at the multiple videos and photos he sent.

“Be available tomorrow,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. “Your girl might need some dinner at her place to make her feel better.” Every word I speak feels like ash on my tongue, turning bitter and chalky.

I fucking hate myself.

“Sure,” he mumbles, getting out of the car with crinkled brows. He doesn't look back at me when he goes inside, and I don't look at him.

This is a means to an end. A way to live our dream, and that's it.

A plan formulates in my mind as I drive back to Callum's, and we regroup, coming up with a solid idea on how to get us the fuck out of here and keep River here. Now all I have to do is break my best friends’ hearts.