Chapter 3
Quinn
J axon glances over his shoulder, noticing what’s caught my attention. His brows lift high on his creased forehead. “Fucking hell, dude. You got a death wish or something?”
I take another swig of my beer, playing innocent. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Like hell you don’t,” he says with a smirk. “Don’t go there, man. You even think about touching her, and Nick will lose his shit. You know he will. Your ass will be on the chopping block. No question about it.”
“He’s our band manager, for Christ’s sake, not our keeper. Since when does Nick Dundas call all the shots?”
“Since he just scored us a six-week tour of the United States. If the guy tells me to fuck my own fist, I’ll do it. Blue balls aside. ”
“Piss off, Jax.”
Kael leans across the table, picking at a basket of greasy fries. He glances briefly at the bar, and I instantly want to peck his eyes out like a starving crow on fresh kill.
“She’s cute,” he says shoving a couple of fries into his mouth, chewing loudly. “In a Mary Poppins kinda way. But she’s totally off-limits. Nick’s only warned us away from her like a thousand times before. No way in hell he’d let any one of us touch his baby brother’s girl.”
I don’t bother replying.
“I’m serious, bro, you can’t bang her. So get that look off your face.
Aggravation shoots up my spine. “What look?”
“That look, right there…” His pointing, threatening finger comes dangerously close to my nose. “I’m talking zero banging, do you understand me? Nil. Zilch. Zippo. Nada on the fuckada.” He says all this with a completely serious face, and I’m tempted to snap his finger off and shove it clean up his ass. He leans back in his seat, stretching his arms up high above his head. “I would, however, ladies and gentlemen, care to know for sure if the carpet matches the curtains, if you get what I mean.”
This time I don’t hesitate.
Reaching across the booth, I snatch the front of Kael’s shirt with both fists, lifting him up off the cracked leather seat. “Watch your mouth, you stupid fucker.”
Kael’s wide-eyed expression tells me I just scared the living shit out of him. Good. I don’t care. He shouldn’t be speaking about Cassie like that, or any other woman for that matter.
I know it’s an irrational response, and I know it makes no sense at all given the fact that I’ve barely said two words to the girl in the whole time we’ve been coming in here, but my stomach twists abruptly, and I suddenly don’t want Kael thinking about her at all, let alone talking about her in such a crude way.
Fucking prick gets on my nerves sometimes.
It’s not like I’ve got a shortage of women in my life. I might not flaunt my conquests like Kael and Jaxon, or even Reed, but I get plenty of action. I’ve had one-night stands. I’ve occasionally gone back for seconds. All depends on how I’m feeling at the time.
But disrespecting a woman, no way I’d ever do that.
Kael jerks out of my tight grip, flopping back down again. “What’s up your ass?”
Jaxon shakes his head, his lips pressed into an unimpressed tight line. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you, Kael? Leave it alone, man. Just leave it the hell alone.”
“Or what?”
“Or your teeth might cease to remain in the same order they were when we walked in here. Take the hint and leave it the fuck alone. We’ve got enough going on with Reed and a possible plagiarism case hanging over our heads. We don’t need to be turning on each other right now.”
“Alright, Jesus. Settle down,” gripes Kael. He takes another long pull of his beer before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Where is the prick anyway? We’re in this mess because of him. It affects all of us, and he doesn’t even have the decency to show up.”
Tearing my eyes away from Kael before I say or do something I can’t take back, I glance toward the bar again to find Cassie pouring beers for a couple of regulars .
A second later my phone vibrates in my pocket. I dig it out, bending closer to get a look at the text message on the screen.
Mom: How are you? I haven’t heard from you in over a week. What’s going on with my boy?
Her boy . For fuck’s sake. I’m thirty-two years old. I haven’t lived at home since I was eighteen. I make a shitload of money, and I own my own apartment in one of the most expensive cities in the entire world.
My fingers get busy tapping out a quick reply.
Me: I’m good. You? Sorry I haven’t called in a while. We’ve been really busy at the studio. How’s Dad?
Mom: He’s fine. He’s out in the shed working on the truck. His back still acts up from time to time, but other than that, he’s good.
A sharp twinge of regret pierces my chest, making me feel overwhelmingly powerless and also guilty as fuck. I wish I could do more for my parents. If they were still living here in New York it wouldn’t be a problem. I could check in on them whenever I wanted to, help them around the house. Work on that damn stupid truck with my old man.
But my parents moved to Florida a few years ago. Dad said he couldn’t handle another New York winter, so they sold the house, packed up all their shit, and followed the sun south to Pensacola, where they now live in a two-bedroom bungalow right by the beach.
Good fucking luck to them, I say. But still.
Mom: How’s Reed ?
Me: He’s good.
That’s not entirely true, but it’s not a lie either, and for now, that’ll have to do because getting into the whole ‘going to mediation to settle an allegation against him’ debacle will only raise more questions that I’m really not in the mood for right now.
Me: He’s been working on a new ballad. It’s a bit darker than our normal stuff, but the lyrics are incredible.
Mom: When’s it releasing?
Me: Not for a few months. The studio wants to sit on it until we go on the US tour. Speaking of the tour, they’ve added a few more dates, and now we finish up down south. I might get to spend a couple of days with you guys once it wraps.
Mom: I’d love that. I can’t wait to tell your father.
Me: I’m out with the boys right now. I’ll call you tomorrow.
Mom: Are you taking your medication?
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, the prickle of irritation I always feel when she questions me like this turns into a damn thorn in my side. I recoil slightly.
Jaxon and Kael are deep in conversation, so I tap out another quick message.
Me: I’m taking it, Mom.
Jesus Christ. Of course, I’m taking it. I’ve been taking since I was thirteen years old. Why wouldn’t I be taking it? Should I be drinking? No, probably not. The doctors have told me it’s not ideal , but it’s not totally forbidden either, so yeah, screw that shit because I’ve already given up so much because of this condition. A few beers, the occasional vodka, or a whiskey with my bandmates, yeah, I’ll take my chances, thank you very much.
I swallow thickly, glancing back toward the bar. Cassie is looking at me again, and something in her brilliant blue eyes seems to cut straight through every defense I have, like she knows all my deepest, darkest secrets.
But she can’t possibly know all my secrets.
There’s no possible way she could know. I covered all my tracks. I made sure I did. If I have my way, Cassie Brooks will never find out what I did. Because finding out what I did would crush her. And she’s already been through enough pain, enough loss, to last her a lifetime.
I did what I thought was best at the time, and until I’m proven wrong, I’ll take my secrets to the grave with me.
I type out another quick text message, to Reed this time, before switching my phone to silent, and shoving it back into my pocket.
Me: We’re at Leon’s. Swing by. We need to talk.