Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
Cole · Now
I’m Not Okay (I Promise) – My Chemical Romance
The doorbell rings, a string snaps, and a sharp lick of pain shoots up my callused finger.
“Fuck,” I hiss, the nickel-stained skin reddening.
I shake my hand out, prop my 1954 Les Paul against the couch, and get up.
Saint dithers in the sound booth, a blunt hanging from his lips, his Fender Stratocaster straddling his lap.
Axel tinkers with the soundboard, twisting dials and bobbing his head to the music filtering through the speakers.
Carter’s nowhere to be seen as he’s dropping the twins off with his dad.
Not because they can’t be in the studio with us. If it’s Carter’s time, they’re usually draped over our shoulders or curled up in our laps when we’re down here working.
But introducing the girls to someone who might not stick around? He’s not down for that.
I get it.
Hendrix was such an integral part of our lives. When she left there was a gaping hole we couldn’t fill.
Nobody wants to go through that again.
Axel tugs a headphone from one ear, fingers stilling on the EQ as he cranes his neck. “You gonna get that?”
“Yep.” I rock back on my heels. He hikes a brow at my lack of movement. I roll my lips and nod. “Any second now.”
Still, I don’t move.
I tug my sleeves down. Shove them up to my elbows. Then tug them down again.
The bell rings again.
I jerk forward, exhaling slowly as I cross to answer it.
Cracking my knuckles, the tension eases enough that I can push down the button. “Hello?”
The speaker crackles. “Hey, Cole.”
“Hey,” I release the locks before I can back out. “Doors open. Just head straight through the hallway, down the stairs, and I’ll meet you outside the studio.”
“Okay.”
I pull away as I hear the door crack open through the speakers.
Raking a hand through my hair, and pull the control room door open,
Cold air rushes into the control room.
I shove a hand in my pocket and stalk down the hallway. Records, album covers, and lyric prints line the walls—telling the story of Reckless Abandon. I move past the live room, my feet slowing with each step.
I spot her friend first. Dressed in sunflower dungarees, her auburn hair bounces beneath yellow ear defenders as she shifts from one foot to the other.
When Hendrix texted to say she was bringing someone, my first instinct was to tell her no. This studio is our sanctuary. It’s hidden—built beneath the walls of our home where no one can find us.
We don’t bring strangers here.
But Hendrix is as good as a stranger now too.
So, I couldn’t deny her the comfort of a friend when stepping into a world that’s no longer her own.
Pretty sure I couldn’t deny her anything, if only she asked.
I shake my head, willing the thoughts away as I yank the handle.
The door releases with a jerk.
I frame the wood with my ankle, stopping it from smacking into the wall.
The friend looks up first, cool grey eyes brushing over me, before they settle on a spot on the wall past my shoulder.
“Hi, I’m Riley,” she says, her fingers wiggling at her sides.
“Hey, Riley.” I smile. “I’m Cole.”
“I know.” She breezes past me, scanning the framed walls.
“Okay, then,” I mutter, turning to Hendrix. Her shoulders tremble, and I tilt my head. “Are you laughing at me, Rixie?”
She cups a hand to her mouth.
“Nu-uh.” A soft tinkling giggle spills from her lips. “I just can’t imagine you’re used to that kind of reception.”
My mouth twitches. “No, can’t say I am.” I glance back at Riley who pokes her head into the lounge before turning back to Hendrix. “She’s different.”
“She’s just Riley. You’ll get used to her.” Her gold glittered eyes widen a pinch and she jerks them away and to the ground. “Or you know, you won’t.” She clears her throat, kicking the floor with the toe of her black Converse. “We’re not sticking around for long, after all.”
“Right.” I nod. “Should probably get this over with then. Don’t want to keep you for longer than needed.”
Something flickers across her expression, so fast I don’t catch it. “Yep. Sounds good.”
“Rix—”
Riley shouts Hendrix’s name, drowning out my voice. “Definitely rich.”
Hendrix barks a laugh. “I told you so.”
She looks at me then, taking in my quizzing stare. “Riley assumed you’d live someone a bit nicer. You know the whole old warehouse thing doesn’t exactly scream rock star.”
“She’s not wrong.” I grin as the tautness in my shoulders lessens.
This is a topic I can deal with. “Saint found the place a few years back. Made sense to have us all in one place, but with our own spaces. Not to mention, it's secluded enough that we don’t have to deal with fans trying to break in every day. So a win all around.”
“The fans really do that?”
“Oh, you have no idea.” I clench my teeth and hiss. “The number of restraining orders I have…”
Her expression softens. “You really are a rock star, huh?”
“I really am. For now, anyway.”
Her tongue sweeps out, caressing the sparkling silver stud in the centre of her plump bottom lip.
She strolls ahead of me. “Let’s try and keep it that way then, shall we?”
When she catches up to Riley, she links their pinkies together, her head dropping onto the shorter woman’s shoulder as if they’ve walked like that a hundred times over.
I rub my chest as a sharp breath lodges in my lungs.
Guess she really did create her own world without me.
I swallow down the lump in my throat and force myself to move after them, shoving the door of the control room open so they can pass.
Axel swivels on his chair at the intrusion.
A slow grin sweeps over his face, dimple popping as he watches the two women lingering in the doorway.
“Baby girl.” He jumps out his chair and launches himself at Hendrix.
She freezes, jaw tightening when he throws his arms around her and lifts her into the air. Saint watches the exchange, fingers never stilling on his strings, a muscle jumping in his jaw.
Outside of myself, he’s the one I’m most worried about with this reunion.
Hendrix wasn’t just his best friend. She was his chosen sister.
They had a relationship even I didn't really understand. They just got each other on a level no one else could. Even though he knew this was happening—hell, he encouraged it—it doesn’t mean the image of her now, all grown-up, doesn’t sting.
I slip past Axel as eases Hendrix from her frozen state. Riley busies herself by perching on the couch and rolling a soft, glittery cube between her hands.
Saint looks up when I push the door open and squeeze inside the sound booth.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. Just peachy.” He pulls a joint from his leather jacket and slips it between his teeth. “You?”
“Want me to lie, too?”
He smirks as his thumb rolls over the flint of his zippo and a flame bursts to life. “Sure.”
“Peachy,” I echo, a chuckle slipping past my lips.
He sucks in a deep drag, then another. “She looks different.”
“That she does.”
“Is she?”
“Different?” I cock my head, watching as Axel carts her around the room with his arm wrapped around her shoulder, showing off every little thing. “Haven't figured that out yet.”
He fingers his strings, smoking curling around him, joint trapped between his teeth. “You gonna be okay?”
If he’d asked me this question earlier, my answer would have been different. Because seeing Hendrix back home is one thing.
Seeing her here … in the world we’ve created in her absence?
That’s a whole fucking other.
I had a plan with all of this. I was gonna ask her to work with me, she was gonna say yes, and that was that. Professional. Business. Nothing more, nothing less. Because I have to respect the choice she made all those years ago.
But then I saw her, all sparkling eyes and ink, and the plan shifted.
And when she called, and I heard her husky voice, one that is both new and old…
It fucking disintegrated.
Because how could I not want to keep talking to her?
I turn my head, watching Hendrix perch on the corner of the couch, her expression flat, her eyes dull as they bounce over the room.
“Ask me when she’s gone,” I tell Saint, tipping my head back against the glass. “Then maybe I can find it in myself to lie.”