Seven - Rad
“See you, assmunchers, later. I’m going for a ride,” I grumble, running a hand through my hair, trying to distract myself from her—River. The woman I fell head over heels in love with. Only to have my heart ripped violently out of my chest and spit on. “Fuck,” I mumble, squeezing my eyes shut as the pain of her betrayal sears through me again. Stopping before the garage door that connects to the house, I recover my breath and sigh. I have got to get a handle on my fucking self. I’m being ridiculous. I can’t fall apart because she’s back in the picture. Not now. I’ve fought too damn hard to get back to the easy-going, carefree guy everyone loves to see. No matter the dark cloud floating over my head whenever I’m alone.
Once upon a time, she was my pretty girl. The most beautiful woman in the world. And I called her mine. All mine. And well, theirs, too, I guess. I thought she felt a semblance of what I felt for her. Love. Adoration. Major attraction. God damn, the sex was off-the-charts hot, too. Even thinking about spreading her ass out on a pile of money makes little Rad perk up. Even now, after all this time, she’s still on a shrine in the back of my head with candles and a curtain concealing her memory. If only I could contain it from ever spilling out into my waking thoughts. Then I might be okay.
I guess I was mistaken about us, though. She managed to jump into Van’s arms again, like the moments we had meant nothing to her. She threw out the Ferris wheel ride, the way she built our band, and the fucking dining room table incident like they didn’t play on repeat in her mind, too. Because fuck, even through my hate, I fuck my hand to the memories of River’s cries at the top of the Ferris wheel. Fuck. Not only am I sad, but now I’m saluting in my damn pants.
Hell, maybe I pushed my pretty girl too much and way too fast. I did kind of stalk her and put a flag in her ass, claiming her as my girlfriend. She had no choice. So, that’s on me, I guess. She didn’t want me the way I desperately wanted her. She didn’t want any of us.
I huff a breath when the familiar burn behind my eyes threatens to spill tears again. I’m so damn tired of crying myself to sleep. It’s been fucking years. Why can’t my heart move on?
“You’re going for a ride?” Callum asks in a soft voice, placing a hand on my shoulder. I grunt, shrugging his hand off, and nod, clutching my keys.
“Yeah, man. I gotta clear my mind,” I mumble, wiping away the tears leaking out.
Stupid tears; I don’t need you right now. Never again. I’m tired of crying over her; she’s not worth it. She broke my heart once; I won’t let her trample it again. Lesson fucking learned. Not even those sexy as fuck six-inch heels that accentuated her long, lean legs under that come-fuck-me-dress she wore over here for our meeting can win me over. God. She’s amazing. I love her. But I fucking hate her. And what’s wrong with me? My heart tears into two different pieces, going in two separate directions.
When I turn to look up at Callum, my brows furrow, there’s a hint of something brewing in the back of his determined gray eyes, and suspicion hits me hard in the chest. That fucker is up to something.
“You’re not thinking about going tonight, are you?” When he darts his eyes away toward the ground, I get my answer. “Bro, we can’t leave, remember? Not even for that.”
His jaw clenches tight, and he nods. “Thanks for the reminder, Dad,” he grumbles, working his jaw back and forth, biting back all the rage consuming him.
I swear, my brother Callum hasn’t been the same man since he witnessed River kissing Van. It’s like the sweet piece that made him, him—was left behind in Central City and with her. She stole that from him. He had just started opening up and becoming the person he wanted to be, and now, he has effectively shut down completely.
“Sorry, Man. I didn’t make the rules. Take it up with her,” I say, throwing an arm out toward River’s house, which sits just across the street from us.
Thankfully, she hasn’t shown her face today, giving us the weekend to move in and settle into our gigantic new home. I’d rather not face my past head-on. Until Monday morning, of course, when she’ll meet us for our very first band practice under her new rules. Shit. I feel like I’m back under my strict parents’ control. The ones who forbade me from getting tattoos and staying out past ten. Now here I am, twenty-seven, and on full lockdown enforced by my ex. Life is fucking weird.
“Look, I know it’s Saturday, and I know that’s what you do, but I can’t lose this contract.” If I don’t have music, I don’t know what I have.
Emptiness? More time to focus on my heartbreak? I’ll self-destruct in no time. Even if we haven’t been the same since we got signed, I never want to lose my grip on what makes me whole. Music. The tunes. The way I smash my sticks into the drums. It helps me to remember I’m alive, and if that’s gone, what will I do?
Kieran snorts, walking past with a piece of pepperoni pizza hanging from his mouth. “Sneak out. No one will know,” he says nonchalantly like he doesn’t even fucking care we’re in this predicament because of him.
He’s why Whispered Words is failing, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed by Callum either. Sometimes I wonder what life would have been like if we had never met River. We wouldn’t be here, that’s for sure. But we’d still be brothers and damn happy about it, too, unlike now, where we can barely be in the same house without bickering or wanting to throw punches. Or, in Callum’s case, beating the shit out of Kieran every chance he gets. Been there. Done that. Cleaned up enough of their blood to last a damn lifetime.
“Why? So, you can move on without us?” Callum asks in a low, deadly voice, cracking his knuckles.
Kieran grunts, tearing into his pizza again. “Going to kick my ass again? Hmm?” He raises a haughty brow, practically begging Callum to punch him in the face. I’m rooting for that. Maybe it’ll knock him back a peg or two and pull his ego out of his ass. Stupid fucker.
“No fighting. You’re an asshole. Go eat your damn pizza and leave them alone,” Asher gripes, walking past with a plate of pizza. He shakes his head when Kieran narrows his eyes at him, grinding his teeth. “Just shut the fuck up. We’re here to stay. Get over it,” Asher says, softening his voice. “This is our last opportunity. If we don’t take this seriously, then we can kiss our music career goodbye.”
“Not if I can fucking help it. I’ve got my agent on the lookout for better contacts. Away from that lying, cheating, manipulative…”
“Don’t be so insulting,” Callum grumbles, cutting Kieran’s words off.
“Right, because you still love her?” Kieran asks, stepping into Callum’s face. “How can you love someone who went behind your back and kissed and fucked and cuddled another man? Why?” Kieran growls every word, pressing his nose into Callum’s as they face off.
“I don’t,” Callum growls back, pressing further into Kieran.
“Right,” Kieran scoffs like he isn’t still pining for his childhood best friend.
“Fuck off,” I say, laying a hand on Kieran’s chest and pushing him away from Callum’s rage-filled body. “Go eat. Leave him be,” I growl, narrowing my eyes at Kieran, who smiles through the whole damn altercation like he has since we left Central City. River did a number on his ass, and I can’t wait until someone fucks him up and straightens out his attitude problem. Fuck. My fingers curl. A man can dream, right? But could I forgive River for what she did? I don’t fucking know.
Once Kieran saunters away and shuts himself in his upstairs bedroom with the slam of his door, I can finally breathe. Turning to Callum, I put a hand on his shoulder and level him with my best serious stare. “Don’t get caught, okay?” I mumble, squeezing his shoulder, and he nods. I know he needs this more than anything, especially after the two days we’ve had under River’s rule. But fuck me if he gets caught sneaking out. “Be discreet or some shit. There’s a guard, remember?”
“I never do,” he mutters, pushing my hand off his shoulder, and heads into the basement, where the gym punching bag calls his name as he prepares for what the night has in store for him.
Tension rises through my body, locking my muscles in a tight grip. Now more than ever, I need to hop on my old bike and ride until I can’t feel this black hole swirling inside me and swallowing my insides. I swear, she decimated me—all of us. They may not admit it, but I know it’s true. Callum resorted to violence to take his ache away. Kieran’s attitude needs a good fucking punch, and if he didn’t have such a talented voice, I’d sock him one. And Asher? He’s completely flipped from the man I knew in Central City. Sure, he’s still domineering and anal, but for someone who didn’t even like River as he claimed, he’s been a wreck ever since, mostly keeping to himself. The same vibe we had on stage has not carried over since we left Central City. It’s like all drive, passion, and love stayed behind. Now, we’re a shell of who we once were.
I walk out into the garage and run my fingers over the worn paint of my beloved bike; I couldn’t leave it behind. We only made it back to Central City once after winning the Battle of the Bands, and this is what I brought back with me before the real work began. I knew I’d always need it, no matter how much money I made and how many new bikes I could afford. This one holds a special place in my heart for various reasons. Not only did it help me win multiple times on the racetrack, but it’s where she sat with me and helped me christen it for good luck. God. I’m so hopelessly fucking in love with her still.
Fuck! How? Why does my heart continue to squeeze like it’s been put in a vise, draining it dry?
Even after the heartbreak and all the shit she did to us, I can’t help myself but to think of her and feel flutters. Stupid heart. Stupid fucking dick. Why can’t I work her out of my system? She cheated on you with that scumbag! And then, when I’m almost to the point of getting over her, she shows up in a short, come-fuck-me dress, begging me to tear it up to her hips and fucking punish her for breaking my goddamn heart. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath.
The video of her and Van screwing lingers in my memories in the background. As always. Yes, I absolutely will always love River West. But fuck. My heart cracks into tiny pieces again. Usually, I take that emotion-filled feeling inside me and utilize it the best way I know how—beating the shit out of my drums. I can never seem to shake her, though. She’s a ghost living rent-free in my mind whenever I close my eyes. And it’s very fucking irritating not being able to let go and long for someone who was a passing phase in my life and fucked us over so hard.
Rifling through a tall box situated near my bike, I throw on my helmet for safety and ignore the burner phone vibrating in my pocket. At least I made one good decision since I got famous, never giving out my real phone number to groupies.
Since there’s nothing other than the sandy beach on her side of the road and a mile-long driveway down to the gate, I’ll have to stay on the pavement or take a joyride through our grass lawn. I smirk, imagining her yelling at me for being so damn loud and tearing up her grass. I’d love to get her all fired up and witness it once again.
Once I’m seated on my bike, the entire world disappears. It’s nothing but me, the wind in my mullet—or my helmet since I’m a responsible guy—and the long road ahead of me. I rev my engine and book it down the light-up drive, going full speed until the gate comes into view, forcing me to stop suddenly. With heavy breaths, I can’t help but to let my head fall back and laugh to myself. Shit. This is what I needed to let loose.
Adrenaline pours through my veins, breaking a grin across my face. Happiness and relief I haven’t felt in days lifts me to the clouds like a damn drug keeping me in its grip. Thank fuck. I revel in the heady feeling when I race up the drive again, jostling over rogue rocks and tiny bumps in the road. I whoop, returning to the road’s end nestled between each house, and my heart soars with excitement and pure fucking joy.
“Rad!” I whip my head toward the figure standing at the edge of her grass, clutching a large sweater around herself. Hell, even dressed down in her starlight pajama bottoms, a messy bun, no makeup, and a scowl—she’s still hot as fuck. It’s too bad she went and broke my damn heart.
“Can’t hear you, Pretty Girl!” I yell, cranking up my engine again as I sit and watch her with amusement. A smirk pulls the edges of my lips when she narrows her eyes, sparkling in the bright moonlight. Yes, Pretty Girl. Give me all your anger, baby.
“It’s nine-thirty at night, Ashton!” she barks, stomping toward me with determination.
“I still have thirty minutes, Mommy!” I shout again, revving it until she’s standing right beside me and clasping my wrist.
“Yeah. You still have thirty minutes until you’re grounded,” she quips, shaking her head. Running her fingers over her bun, she finally meets my eyes when I throw my helmet off and give her my best grin.
“Then give me thirty more minutes to blow off some steam. Unless you want to help with that, Pretty Girl?” She sucks in a breath, and her eyes dilate before she shakes herself out of it.
Huh, she’s still horny for the Rad Ride. I’ll store that in the back of my mind for later, whenever I need it. Like tonight, when Mr. Fist meets Mr. Dick, and they come together with Mrs. Strawberry lube. It’s a fantastic union, and she’ll be the center of my fantasy.
“Not happening, assface,” she says, glaring at me when I shrug.
“Had to try. If I can’t have booze or girls over at your other mansion, you’re all that’s left.” I cock my head, letting my hurtful words dig deep into her heart like her actions did mine. Would I invite other girls over? Fuck no I wouldn’t.
Instantly, I know I’ve landed my mark when her face hardens, and she steps back. “Listen, my kid is asleep on the couch. Can you at least wait until tomorrow? She isn’t feeling the best,” she says softly, avoiding my eyes.
My brows furrow. Right, the kid she had after we left. Who more than likely belongs to Van’s dumbass. Why couldn’t she have been mine? Why couldn’t my swimmers have won the damn race and given me my mullet baby? I clench my jaw and slam my helmet back on my head.
“No can do, Pretty Girl. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I grunt, revving the engine and taking off.
Or I would have if a little dark figure didn’t run right in front of me, screaming at the top of her lungs and stopping in front of my accelerating bike. I grunt, overcorrecting myself, and narrowly miss her by a fucking millimeter. My heart pounds when my bike wobbles, jostling my entire body until it tips over. I go fucking down onto the road. Hard as fuck. All the breath leaves my lungs as I’m dragged an inch, but it’s enough to inflict some damage. My back scrapes against the pavement as my bike dies and flies somewhere in the middle of the road.
My breaths come in short pants as I stare at the twinkling stars mocking my luck. My entire body heats as pain envelops me, and I groan, thankful for the helmet protecting my damn head from scrambled brains.