Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
Cole · Then
Empty Space – The Story So Far
Nineteen Years Old
Frank Moore opens the door after I knock for a third time.
I step back when he fills the frame, his gaze narrowing.
I’ve only met the man a handful of times in the years I’ve known Hendrix, but there’s something off about him. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is. He’s always been perfectly fine with me on the odd occasion I’ve seen him in passing, but I just don’t get good vibes.
It doesn’t help that I know Hendrix isn’t close to her parents. It's a rare occasion we're at her house, and when we are it's usually when her dad is working. She much prefers hanging at mine or any of the other guys' places.
“Are you looking for Hendrix?” Hendrix’s dad asks.
I tighten my grip on my phone. “Yes, sir.”
“She’s in her room. You know where that is, right?” He steps inside, leaving the door open for me as he stomps into the kitchen.
My brows dip.
She was supposed to be at Carter’s an hour ago. We’re playing a gig at Rock Shots tonight, and she’s never once been a no-show on gig days. Even going as far as taking days off uni to travel to wherever we’re setting up for the night.
I take the stairs two at a time and push her bedroom door open.
My blood chills when I see the bed empty. Her window is open, blinds fluttering in the wind. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s climbed out the window. She’s been doing it for years when she wants to slip out without her parents questioning her whereabouts. Not that they seem to care anyway.
I just don’t get why she’d have done it today. Or why she’s still not replied to any of my texts.
Unlocking my phone, I call her again as the sound of flushing breaches the door.
I spin.
My shoulders sag when Hendrix ambles out of the bathroom.
She doesn’t seem to notice me until she’s in her room, closing the door behind her. She twists the lock with shaky fingers. A frown tugs at my lips as I take her in.
Her hair is pulled back in a braid, her face flushed and bare of makeup. She sniffles, swiping a tissue across her nose before looking up. Red-rimmed eyes lock on mine, and my chest knots.
“Hey,” she croaks, a cough following her words. “What are you doing here?”
I reach out for her and tug her into my chest. Heat pours from her body. She shivers when I wrap my arms around her.
I perch her on the edge of the bed and drop to my haunches.
“You’ve not been answering your phone, baby. I’ve been worried.”
She sniffles again. “Sorry. I’ve not long woken up.”
“Are you okay?”
She peeks up at me.
I brush her hair from her face, her skin searing my cold fingers.
“Pretty sure I’m dying.” She chokes a laugh. “I started feeling shit as soon as I got home yesterday and just crashed.”
“You’re not dying,” I tell her, my chest aching at her forlorn expression. “But you aren’t well. Why didn’t you call me?”
Her shoulders lift. “You’ve been busy with the guys, getting ready for the show tonight. Didn’t want to bother you.”
“You are never a bother to me.” I run my fingers up and down her spine. “When are you gonna realise that, huh?”
Her chest hitches as a chorus of coughs explode from her.
“Come on, let’s get you in bed.” I stand, peel the cover back, and lay her down. “Do you need anything?”
She cuddles a pillow, her eyes fluttering shut. “No, just sleep.”
“Alright.” I toe my boots off and peel my hoodie over my head.
She peeks at me through dipped lashes. “What are you doing?”
I chuckle. “You’re radiating heat, baby. If we’re snuggling, I’m not wearing a jumper and risking you getting any warmer.”
She shuffles herself up and presses her back to the headboard, rapidly shaking her head. “No. You’ve got a show in less than twelve hours. You can’t stay here.”
“Sure, I can.” I tug my phone out and fly off a text to Saint letting him know I’m not gonna make it. “Ax can handle the vocals for one night.”
Saints response is immediate.
“Saint says to rest up and let him or Theo know if we need anything. See?” My stomach twists as tears fill her eyes. “Hey, don’t cry, baby.”
“You have to go to your show.”
I sit on the edge of her bed and thread our fingers together. “Rixie. You are my number one priority. I’m not gonna leave you alone while you’re sick. Deal with it.”
“But—”
I silence her with a kiss
“You’re gonna get sick now,” she says against my lips.
“Don’t care.” I ease her onto her side and slide into the bed behind her. Curling my arms around her waist, I pull her into my chest. “I missed you, baby.”
She kisses my wrist. “Please don’t miss your show for me. I’m not worth that.”
I squeeze her tighter. “You are worth every single thing.”
“Not your career,” she says quietly. “What if tonight’s the night an industry rep is sitting in the audience.”
“Then I miss my chance.”
She tenses, her fingers stilling on my arm.
“But there will be other chances.” I thread our hands together. “Plus, I don’t think an industry rep is gonna be hanging around Rock Shots on a random Wednesday night in July.”
She sniffs. “You never know. You should go.”
“Not going anywhere.” I press a kiss to her shoulder and close my eyes. “You’re stuck with me.”
Hendrix is gone from the bed when I crack my eyes open.
Sunshine glints through her blinds. I scrub my eyelids and stretch my arms over her head as Hendrix stomps into the room.
She’s changed out of her ratty pyjamas and into black jeans and a baggy Papa Roach T-shirt that I’m pretty sure is mine, put makeup on, and pulled her hair into a sleek ponytail.
“Up and at ’em, Rock Star.” She peels the covers off me. “Let’s get moving.”
I tug her wrist, pulling her towards me so I can press the back of my hand to her head. She’s no cooler than she was when I first arrived. “The only place you should be going is back to bed.”
“I’m feeling so much better.”
I scoff. “I’d maybe believe that if you didn’t sound like you smoked fifty cigarettes in the last half hour. Get in bed.”
“Nope. Get out of bed.”
“Rixie—”
She jerks her wrist free and steps back. “You are going to your gig tonight. I’m not accepting anything less. I’ve already texted Carter, he’s on his way to pick us up. He’ll be here in fifteen.”
“I’m not going while you’re sick.”
“Yes, you are.” She tosses my jumper onto the bed and drops my shoes at my feet.
“No, I’m not.”
“Cole, we don't have time for you to be stubborn. Get a move on.”
“Hendrix!” I blare. Her eyes widen at the sound of her name from my lips.
Pretty sure I haven’t called her that since the first day we met.
“What is the matter with you right now? You are poorly. You have no business going out, let alone to watch a fucking gig. What crazy shit have you been smoking today?”
She stumbles back. “You can’t miss your show.”
“I can do whatever the fuck I want.” I shoot out of the bed and close the distance between us. I grip her hips as her lashes flicker. I soften instantly. “You don’t get to make this decision for me. If I want to skip out on a show then I’m gonna do that.”
“You’re right. I can’t make you go to the gig.” She peels my hands away from her. Stepping back, she drags the door open. “But I can make you leave.”
My stomach sinks. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not being the reason you miss a gig.”
“You are not the reason, I am. I’m making this choice.”
A horn honks outside.
“That’s your ride.” Hendrix swallows, refusing to meet my eyes as she steps aside. “Go.”
I sink my teeth into my lip. “You’re being serious?”
“Deadly.” She finally looks at me, her expression a blank fucking mask. “Now, get the hell out of my house.”
A sharp pain lances my chest.
Hendrix and I don’t fight.
We’ve never even had a single disagreement—unless we’re talking about our favourite songs, but they’re playful debates, not whatever the hell this is.
“Rixie.” I reach for her hand but she pulls away.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she says, her face never shifting as she nudges me out of her bedroom and she slams the door in my face.