CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Gizmo
I don’t mean to hear it.
But I walked in the back door to hear my brother and Hendrix talking.
Every fucking word.
I’m not in love with him. Jase is a good guy, but not one I could ever really love. He’s too... all over the place. I don’t think I’d ever be able to trust him. Not while on the road. Not with all the women tempting him. Yeah, definitely not in love with him but more just enjoying the distraction.
It shouldn’t feel like a knife in the back, but it does. The sharp sting of it burrows under my skin, settles deep in my chest.
I’m not in love with him.
Jase is a good distraction.
A distraction.
I step back, out of earshot, before she or Nathaniel realizes I’m here. My hands curl into fists but I force myself to move. To shake it off.
This was always the deal, right? An arrangement?
But fuck if it doesn’t feel different now. She said she loves me. Was that a lie? A heat of the moment fib?
I move into the studio, lock the door behind me, and do the only thing I’ve ever been able to do to cope. I fixate on music.
I write until the lyrics pour out of me.
I write to ignore her texts asking if I’m coming out for dinner.
I write to try and figure out where the fuck to go from here.
But I know the answer. I always have.
Where do I go from here? Nowhere. That’s where I go.
On a world tour away from this place. Away from her.
Because once again, I’ll be here while she moves on. While another person I love can’t love me back.
Yeah, I went and fell for her.
That’s on me.
And I hate everything about it.
My phone buzzes. Again. I pick it up, knowing it’s going to be her, but am surprised to see Rocket’s name on the screen.
“You alive? Or did Hendrix finally kill you in some sex-slave coma or some shit like that?”
“Alive,” I mutter, rubbing a hand over my face.
“Good. Then play us the song you’ve been working on.”
“Not happening.”
“Oh, so you are a sex-slave then.”
I sigh. “Nah. Think I’m over that already.”
Rocket whistles. “Wow. Okay.”
“You know me. I get bored easily. Same shit, different pussy.”
Rocket laughs but it grates, because I know the words I said are a blatant lie. “And here I thought you were beginning to like that ring on her finger.”
“No need to get attached,” I add and take a sip straight from the bottle of Jack beside me. I hiss at the burn. “They all leave in the end.”