Chapter 9
Cal
The bedroom door was shut. Locked. I’d flipped the deadbolt the second I walked in, like that thin piece of metal could keep the rest of the world out.
Phone face-down on the nightstand, screen lighting up every thirty seconds with Mom’s name.
I didn’t pick it up. Couldn’t. Not yet. The vibration felt like judgment.
I sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, staring at the carpet.
Same beige hotel bullshit every tour stop.
Same faint smell of bleach and someone else’s cologne.
My head still throbbed from lunch, too much bourbon, not enough food.
The guys had stayed downstairs, probably still hashing out damage control with Ron.
I’d bailed early. Said I needed air. They didn’t argue.
I kept seeing her face from this morning.
Not the angry one. Not the cold, cutting one she gave me in the living room an hour ago.
The quiet one. The one right after I called her a gold-digger.
She didn’t yell back. Didn’t cry. Just went pale.
Lips pressed thin. Eyes glassy for half a second before she blinked it away.
Then she walked out with security like she was the one who’d done something wrong.
I hated that image most.
I hated how easy it had been to wrap my arm around Sydney when she started crying.
How natural it felt to pat her back and murmur “It’s okay” while Hadley stood there taking every hit.
Sydney’s tears always worked on me. Always had.
Since we were kids and she’d cry because her dad forgot her birthday again.
I’d fix it. Punch someone. Steal her favorite candy from the corner store. Make her laugh. It was simple. Safe.
Hadley wasn’t simple. Wasn’t safe.
I rubbed my face hard. Skin felt tight. Raw.
I thought about the kid. Eli. The way he’d stepped halfway in front of her when I raised my voice earlier. Small shoulders squared. Eyes narrowed behind those glasses. Protective. Like he’d fight me if he had to. I’d never had that.
Not once. My dad didn’t protect. He won arguments. My mom tried, but she was always the one crying after. My sister and brother learned early, keep your head down, get good grades, become lawyers, don’t make waves. I was the wave. The one that crashed everything.
No one ever stood in front of me like that. Like I mattered enough to shield.
I stood up. Paced to the window. The Strip glittered below, fake, bright, endless. Same view every time we came through. Same emptiness looking back.
I needed air. Needed to move.
I unlocked the door, stepped into the hallway. Quiet. The living room lights were low. Curtains still half-closed. And there she was.
Hadley on the couch. Curled on her side.
Eli tucked against her chest, head under her chin, one arm thrown over her waist like he was anchoring her.
Blanket pulled up to their shoulders. Her hand rested on his back, open, protective even in sleep.
The ring still on her finger. Thin gold catching the lamp light.
She looked smaller like this. Not the fighter from earlier.
Just… tired. Young. Twenty, she’d said. Twenty with a kid who wasn’t hers by blood but might as well be.
I stood there too long. Couldn’t look away.
Her breathing was slow. Steady. Eli’s matched it. Like they’d found a rhythm years ago and never lost it.
Guilt hit like someone punched me in the sternum. Hard. Sudden. I couldn’t breathe right.
I almost woke her. Almost crossed the room, knelt by the couch, said something real. I’m sorry. I fucked up. I don’t know how to be better but I want to try. Words I’d never said to anyone. Not even myself.
Footsteps in the hall.
Kei appeared in the doorway. Hood up. Coffee in one hand. He saw me standing there like an idiot, saw my face, and his expression shifted. Not angry. Just… knowing.
He stepped inside quiet. Closed the suite door behind him.
“You okay?” he asked low.
I shook my head once.
He glanced at the couch. At them. Back at me.
“You fucked up, man,” he said. Not mean. Just fact.
“I know.”
“Don’t make it worse by pretending it didn’t happen.”
I swallowed. “What do I do?”
Kei took a sip of coffee. Shrugged one shoulder. “Start by not running. You always run. From your dad. From the label. From feelings. From everything. She can’t run. That kid can’t run. They’re stuck here because of you.”
“I didn’t mean...”
“I know you didn’t mean to ruin her life in one night.
But you did.” He kept his voice low. Steady.
“You married her. Drunk or not. You said yes. She said yes. Now she’s hiding in your hotel with a scared thirteen-year-old because the world thinks she’s a gold-digger who trapped you. And you let them think that.”
I looked back at the couch. Hadley shifted in her sleep. Pulled Eli closer. He sighed against her.
“I sided with Sydney,” I said. Quiet. Like admitting it out loud made it worse.
“Yeah. You did.”
“It was easier.”
“Always is.” Kei set his coffee on the table. “But easy doesn’t make it right. She’s not Sydney. She’s not one of us. She didn’t grow up in the same mess we did. She grew up with nothing. And you just took the little she had left, her privacy, her safety, her peace, and lit it on fire.”
I rubbed my chest. Felt like something was stuck there.
“What do I say to her?”
Kei looked at me for a long second. “The truth. Whatever the fucked-up version of it is. No excuses. No ‘I was freaking out.’ Just… I hurt you. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to fix it yet, but I’m not running anymore.”
I nodded. Slow.
He picked up his coffee again. “And maybe don’t wake her right now. She looks like she hasn’t slept in days.”
“Yeah.”
He headed for his room. Paused in the doorway.
“She’s still wearing the ring,” he said quietly.
I looked. She was.
“So are you.”
He left me standing there.
I didn’t wake her.
I went back to my room. Closed the door. Locked it again.
Then I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor. Knees up. Head in my hands.
The full weight landed then. Heavy. Crushing.
I married a girl I barely knew.
I ruined her life in one drunken night.
I let my oldest friend call her trash while I held her.
I let my band watch.
I let my manager talk about profiting off it like she was merchandise.
And now she was asleep on my couch with a kid who hated my guts, hiding from cameras because of me.
I had no idea how to be anything but the asshole who runs.
My phone buzzed again. Mom. I didn’t look.
I lifted my left hand. Stared at the ring. Same cheap band. Same fake shine.
“What the fuck did I do?” I whispered.
The words echoed in the empty room.
No one answered.