Chapter Forty-One
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
GEMMA
Stupid.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
I pull at my hair and shake my head with every thought as I yank my mask off, rip the hairpiece off my head, and board the elevator in my building.
Why didn’t you tell her?
You should have told her.
You should have told her you were there, and you weren’t leaving.
You should have told her she wasn’t alone.
You should have taken your mask off and held her through it.
And instead, you ran away like a fucking coward.
I’m ready to punch something—or throw myself off a balcony.
God, I’m so fucking stupid.
I should never have gone over there with the mask on. I should have gone in and told her the truth. I shouldn’t have let her think I had abandoned her. She was so scared, her flashbacks so apparently vivid.
And I added to the entire fucked up mess.
Why didn’t I take my mask off and tell her she was okay?
I pull my phone out and tap over to her camera feed. I’ll be watching this for the next couple of hours until Reed gets there just to make sure she doesn’t do anything rash. I would have gone back in except I heard her calling Reed, and I knew at least she was doing that. At least she knew she had to have someone with her.
I had my phone ready to text her if she didn’t.
I would have found a way back in.
Still, I won’t do that if I’m not the person she wants to call.
I did this, after all.
And I’ll never earn her forgiveness.
I throw the keys onto the counter when I enter my apartment, then immediately head into my bedroom to watch the camera feed on the broad monitors.
But the moment I sit on the edge of my bed, motion catches my attention from the corner of the kitchen. I move my head a fraction, attempting to make out the dark figure.
I’d grab my gun or knife. Except, right now, maybe I deserve whatever beating this person has for me.
“I don’t have the strength for whatever fight you’re looking for,” I say, glancing toward them. “So, if you’re here to kill me, just get it over with. Sprinkle my ashes at her feet when you’re done.”
“Why her?”
The voice makes me squint. It isn’t the voice I expected.
Still, once I hear it, my entire body droops.
“Mads.”
Mads steps out of the corner and pulls his hoodie back, his mask down. “I told you we would talk,” he says.
“I thought you meant at the studio. In daylight, like normal people. I didn’t realize you would ambush me at my home. I was gone for less than thirty minutes. When did you get in here, and how did you find out where I live?”
“Is that really the most important question right now?” he asks.
“I think it’s a very good question,” I argue, standing. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk,” he says. “Why Bonnie?”
I clench my teeth, barely able to keep it together. “Why not Bonnie?” I breathlessly ask. “Why Andi?”
“We’re not talking about me.”
“Why not? You said we shared something the other day. Let’s talk about your obsession with your best friend’s sister. Why Andi?”
“Do not bring my wife’s name into this,” he warns, and the tone of his voice is more deadly than anything I’ve ever heard.
I glare at him, not stupid enough to continue with the subject if I want to keep my eyes. “I don’t have to tell you why I’m obsessed with someone. I don’t have to give you any kind of reason—”
“Did you tell her?” he asks.
My jaw begins to quiver, and I strap my arms around my chest. “No.”
He sighs heavily. “Why? You were with her all day. All night last night.”
“Forgive me for wanting one more fucking day with her before ruining us both entirely,” I say slowly. “Forgive me for not wanting to add to her anxieties when she’s spent most of the last forty-eight hours crying and scared. How could I have piled more onto that?” I ask, my voice rising.
“The longer you put it off, the more it’s going to hurt her,” he says as he shakes his head. “You know that. After everything she’s been through, everything you’ve put her through—”
“Tell me what all I’ve put her through, Mads,” I demand. “Tell me because I’m all fucking ears.”
I snap harder than I mean to; however, once it’s out there, it’s done.
I can’t hold it back.
“You followed her all those years,” he says. “You left your symbol in random places. The texts. The photos inside her apartment—”
“I sent her those things so she would know I’d get her out of any trouble she found herself in. So she would know I was there—”
“That’s bullshit—”
“ Is it?! ” I almost shout. “How do you know? Did you notice her back then? Because from where I was standing, all of you did a shit job helping her.”
“You don’t think we tried?! Bonnie was a fucking fortress. She barely let any of us in,” he argues.
“Oh, that’s the excuse you’re going with?” I give a fake laugh. “None of you even knew her mother was dying because you didn’t bother asking. None of you cared to find out why she felt the need to drink all fucking day long just to get through it. All of you were so fucked up and selfish during that first tour that none of you saw her dying in front of you .”
A muscle feathers in Mads’ jaw as if he’s remembering that tour—the parties, the drugs, the absolute mayhem they caused. How they nearly lost their record deal because of it.
“She never said anything,” he says, swallowing. “None of us… We were all fucking stupid that tour, I know that. We didn’t see it. And you weren’t there— ”
“I didn’t need to be in every fucking room with her to see her dying,” I snap. “Did she ever even tell any of you about that Halloween? The one before she went to rehab the first time?”
Because I’m so fucking tired.
Mads blinks, pain stretching in his eyes. “What are you talking about?” he asks.
I scoff. “I bet all of you were so fucking happy looking back on that rehab stay. It was the wake-up call all of you needed. Bonnie going sober saved all of your asses.”
“No one is denying that,” he says.
“No, they aren’t. But none of you bothered to ask what her breaking point was.”
“She didn’t want to talk about it.”
I hesitate as my mouth opens to break him entirely. It would be easy to cut him where it hurts most, to tell him exactly what they all missed that Halloween night, that she was dragged into a restroom while they all partied, fucked, and got high on their own vices.
“She would be dead were it not for me,” I manage, my voice breaking. “You would all be looking at her memorial pictures. Because what happened to her that night…”
A tear falls down my cheek, and I inhale as deep of a breath as I can manage to calm down.
“You say I have no idea what happened on that tour… Well, you have no idea what happened that night. You don’t know how it felt to hold her in the shower after and wash their… their hands off of her. You don’t know how it felt to see her vomiting on that floor, to see four men standing around her, on top of her, as if she…”
The color has drained from Mads’ face.
I lean over my kitchen island and press the heels of my palms into the top, hardly able to keep myself together.
“Gemma, what are you talking about?” he breathes, and I can hear the regret in his voice.
I bite my lips and point my finger at him, blinking when I look up at my lights. “Exactly,” I manage. “ Exactly .”
He looks as if I’ve just slapped him.
“Do not come at me and try to make it seem like I’m no one to her, Maddox,” I say slowly. “Don’t come at me talking about how I should just tell her who I am when you don’t know our entire history. Our relationship is more than me just following her, the texts, the photos. Our lives are entwined in ways that can’t be broken. I have more shit to sift through, and getting to know her these last few weeks has only increased my feelings for her and just telling her is more complicated than you’re making it seem. I held her that Halloween night just like I did after the concert. I bathed her that night, just like after the concert. That breakdown you saw the other morning? That wasn’t just ‘oh, the woman I love got hurt, and I wasn’t there.’ That was a culmination of every time I’ve ever failed her, and it’s a fucking lot . That break was because I never in a million years thought I’d have to hold her after something like that ever again. I couldn’t stop the memories. I couldn’t continue holding onto a strong face and hiding my tears because unlike her, I remember everything .”
Mads gulps and blinks. “I didn’t know,” he says.
“I know,” I say, my voice getting hoarse. “And don’t expect you to have known. She hasn’t told anyone because she’s blocked it out. But now it’s coming back to her, and I don’t know how she’s going to get through it. It’s going to be fucking hard, and I plan on being there every chance she’ll let me.”
His gaze moves past me to the monitors. “What about right now?” he asks. “I watched your fight. I saw her crying. You left.”
“She called Reed,” I say, sniffing. “That’s what… I was coming back to watch her because I don’t know what she’s going to do. I don’t know what she’s going to remember. And that’s fucking terrifying.”
Mads’ gaze fixates on the screen for a moment, his shoulders slumping slightly as if he’s simply taking it all in. I inhale a shaky breath and hang my head, body on the verge of giving out. I wish he’d snap at me. I wish he’d yell. Fight. Punch me. Something.
“When?” he asks.
My lashes lift, eyes meeting his.
“When am I going to tell her?” I ask for clarity.
His chin dips.
I stare at the counter for a beat, letting everything run through me one more time.
“Tomorrow,” I say when I lift my head once more. A heavy sigh leaves me. “I’m telling her tomorrow.”
Mads steps around the kitchen then, pausing when he reaches me. He claps his hand on my shoulder, jaw clenched. “I need you to know that we tried,” he says. “We really fucking tried. And she was hellbent on destroying herself.”
I hate everything I just said to him.
“I’m sorry I said that,” I admit. “I didn’t mean it. I shouldn’t have said it. None of you deserve to think that her issues were your fault. I’m not mad at you. I’m not mad at any of you. Not anymore. That’s a grudge I let go of a long time ago. The only person I’ll ever blame for her getting hurt is myself.” I meet his eyes then. “I’m really sorry. I hope this doesn’t fuck up everything more than I’ve already fucked it up.”
Mads stares at me in a way I really wish he wouldn’t.
“What exactly happened that night?” he asks. “Halloween. When she went to rehab. What happened and are those the same people attacking her now?”
My teeth are chattering, images flashing behind my eyes.
“It’s not my story to tell,” I manage.
Mads’ hand pats the countertop twice, and he begins to back out toward the door.
“Tell her,” he says. “We can talk again.”
I scoff, ready to hit my head on a wall. “Looking forward to it.”