Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
Hendrix · Now
Homecoming – A Day To Remember
I watch Cole from the corner of my eye, locked in the sound booth, arms folded across his chest, head tipped back.
I tug my tongue stud between my teeth. I used to be able to know everything he was thinking with just a single look at his face. Now, his expression is blank, his emotions walled off from me.
I flick my gaze to Saint.
A blunt sits between clenched teeth and his mouth moves as he says something to Cole, who only shrugs him off.
Even just watching them feels like an intrusion in a place I no longer belong.
I rip my gaze away as Axel rolls a swivel chair across the floor. Stopping inches from Riley, he props his legs on the small rounded black table, and brushes his lip with his thumb, his eyes dipping. “You. I don’t know.”
Riley's nose wrinkles, her lips twist, and she shudders. “I’m Riley.”
Axel’s face slackens as she looks back down to her hands.
He turns to me, his brow hiked in surprise.
I hide my grin behind my hand.
I’m pretty sure men who look like him—golden tanned skin, buzzed blond hair, tattoos stretching around both his arms, chocolate brown eyes—aren’t used to being cringed at in a woman’s company.
“Did she just…” he trails off, his mouth opening and closing.
A smile curves my lips, easing the tension in my jaw. “Yep.”
“Huh.” He looks at me, then at Riley, then at me again. “Interesting.” He grins mischievously, eyes glinting under the LEDs. “I like her.”
“She’s very likeable.”
He tilts his head, mouth curving at one side. “What’s she doing with you then?”
My chest twinges.
I know he isn’t saying it to hurt me. If he was, he wouldn’t have reacted the way he did when I walked into the control room. But still his words hit closer to home than I’d like. Because I guess, to them, I stopped being likeable the day I walked away.
“Hendrix is also very likeable,” Riley says. “She just buries it beneath walls.”
Axel hums thoughtfully, eyes flickering with amusement as he looks at her. “Oh, I think you and I are gonna be the best of friends, Red.”
“Red?” Her brows dip, a line forms on her forehead.
“You don’t like it?” he asks. “No bother. We can come up with something else later.”
“Why?”
He clicks his tongue. “Friends give friends nicknames.”
“Okay.” She shrugs.
The sound booth door swings open then.
Air leaks from my lungs as Cole saunters through the frame. He looks at me, tipping his head to where Saint sits. I nod. Of all the apologies I owe to the guys who aren’t Cole, Saint probably needs it most.
He was collateral in all things Hendrix and Cole.
He didn’t earn my silence then. And he doesn’t deserve it now.
I push off the couch, steeling myself, before forcing my legs to move.
Cole's fingers brush mine when I pass, sending a spark searing through me. I glance up at him, the tightness in his jaw, his flattened lips. He doesn’t say anything, just rips his hand away, and steps aside.
I drop my gaze and slip past him.
The door closes behind me with a snick, leaving only the soft strum of the guitar in Saint’s hand to fill the suffocating booth.
Skunk lingers heavy in the air, the scent tickling my nose.
“You played the song,” I say in lieu of a greeting.
His gaze flickers up, eyes shrouded behind a glassy cloud. “You saw the show?”
I nod.
He lowers his gaze to his strings. “He needed to hear it.”
“I think I did, too.” I press my back against the wall and slide down, hugging my knees into my chest. “I forgot what it felt like, to hear a song I've written played for the first time. It’s strange, really. How easy it was to just forget.”
His expression shifts, his brows furrowing, but he says nothing.
I twist the ring on my middle finger as emotion crawls up my throat. “I’m really sorry, Saint.”
He says nothing.
I’m not sure he's even breathing.
My voice cracks. “I never meant to hurt you when I left.”
Thick silence stretches between us.
I open my mouth, ready to say more, but a dry laugh stops me.
“I know.” Saint's rolls his shoulders back as he glances up at the ceiling. “I think that’s the worst part, you know? You really thought we wouldn’t care. That I wouldn’t care. That you could walk away and that would be okay. Because if you weren’t with Cole, we didn’t need you.”
A lump settles in my throat. “Are you in my head?”
He bites his lip.
“You were my best friend, Rix.” His gaze locks with mine. “You were the only person outside of Cole that I truly believed would stick around forever. And you walked away.”
I blink stinging eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He scans my face, a frown tugging at his lips.
“Did you get everything you wanted?” he asks.
My vision swims.
I blink, once, twice, and force the tears away. “Not even close.”
He nods.
“Did you?”
“Almost.” A ghost of a smile flashes over his lips. “Turns out, getting everything you want isn’t always the answer. Who knew?”
I swallow bile. “There’s still time though, right?”
“Rix.” He drums his fingers along the contours of the ebony ash body of the Fender. “There’s always time. Just depends on how you want to use it.”
He drops his guitar, propping it against the wall, before standing. “Should probably get a move on. Lot’s to do if we’re planning on figuring this shit out.”
He reaches the door, fist curled around the handle when he glances back at me.
I chew my lip, holding a deep breath.
His shoulders droop and he steps back, holding a hand out to me. “You coming?”
I reach for him with shaky fingers.
He hauls me up. His palm lingers on mine for a beat, then he squeezes once, before letting go.
It’s not forgiveness. Not even close. But it’s a start.
Cole doesn’t look my way when I step out of the booth.
He sits on the edge of the couch, legs splayed, water bottle hanging between his knees as he chatters to Riley and Axel. Riley rolls the cube in her hand, her head bobbing as they welcome her in without hesitation.
My heart warms. If there is one thing I know to be true—now and then—it’s that the men sitting in this room are truly good people. Down to their marrows. They accept, include, and appreciate all the beauty a person has to offer.
I prop myself on the arm next to Riley and tug the ends of her hair.
Saint snatches another chair from the mixing board, spinning it so he’s straddling the seat with his arms dangling down the back. “Hey, new girl 2.0!”
I nudge Riley’s shoulder.
She snaps her head up, eyes popping open. “Me?”
“Yeah.” Saint laughs. “Don’t know your name, gotta call you something.”
She rolls her cube twice. “Riley.”
“Saint,” he says, mirroring her tone.
“Do your parents hate you too?” she asks.
His brows furrow. “What?”
“Your name.” She looks up, gaze flicking between me, Axel, and then back to Saint where she trains it past his ear. “Hendrix, Axel, Saint. Not great names for kids. I can’t imagine any of your parents liking you much.”
Axel roars with laughter. His shoulders shake and he jumps out of his chair, dives over the table, and drops to the empty cushion beside her.
His arm slides across the back. Not encroaching on her at all, but close enough to just exist in her space.
Interesting.
“My parents loved me,” he says, tapping his fingers along the leather. “They just loved Guns N’ Roses more.”
I shuffle in my seat.
My relationship with my parents is something I always kept well hidden from the guys. I didn’t want, or need, their pity.
The only one who had a hint of any tension in my home was Saint. And only because he stayed at my house sometimes when he needed a place to crash if Cole wasn't around.
He climbed into my window one night right as my dad was throwing some shitty words at my locked door.
I brushed it off to him as a bad day, and not a bad life. He never once pressed, but both know I was lying.
I force a smile on my face. “You know my life story, Riles.”
Saint watches her closely, assessing almost. He flicks his tongue over his lips and swipes a tattooed hand under his nose. He doesn’t speak of his mum to many. Or any, really. Pretty sure Cole, Theo, and I are the only ones who know the true sordid tale of his upbringing.
I expect him to wave her off, give a half-arsed story about the nature of his name. Only he surprises me. Shrugging, he says, “My mum just loved the heroin she was smoking when she had me.”
“Oh, I'm sorry,” Riley says, the cube spinning faster now. “I don’t always think before I speak.”
“Don’t even worry about it. I get it, Saint is a weird name. My mum said she saw a halo above my head one day and she just knew I was a gift from God.” Saint says, waving her off.
I catch Cole’s gaze from the corner of my eye.
He looks floored, but there’s a glimmer in those honeyed eyes. Pride, maybe, that his friend didn’t shy away from something for once.
My lips flicker. His too.
My pulse skitters.
Then, like all good moments do, the door slams open, and it’s gone as quick as it came.
Carter looms in the frame, a hand carding through his hair as he takes in the scene.
I go to stand, but forest green eyes ghost over me as if I’m invisible.
My spine locks.
Out of all of them, Carter is the one I expected to be mostly okay with me.
“Sorry I’m late,” he grumbles, pressing his back to the wall. “Shit to do.”
“Did you get the g—”
He spears Axel with a steely glare, shaking his head once.
I twist my fingers and roll my tongue stud across my teeth.
The air crackles around us, the dull hiss of electricity buzzing through the walls.
Saint lights a cigarette, Axel taps the leather couch, Riley rolls her cube, Carter lingers on the edges, and Cole sits there like a statue, stare vacant as he looks across the room.
Guess this really isn’t going to be a walk in the park.