Chapter 19
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Forty-five minutes later, Michael explodes through the door.
His hat is crumpled in his fist, and those blonde locks are sticking out like he’s been tugging at the strands. He searches all of our faces, no doubt looking for broken hearts and shattered dreams. His expression crumbles.
“What happened?” he demands. “What the fuck happened? It was a stupid fight!”
I’ve never lied to Michael. This time, the words might as well be mine. I hate how devastated he sounds, though I knew it was necessary.
Guilt gnaws at me. My stomach swoops as I step into his path. "Where were you?"
“Doesn’t matter. Someone tell me how the hell we got dropped!”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I meet his icy glare, and he sees the truth instantly.
I could never hide anything from him before; I certainly can’t now.
Stumbling backward like I punched him, the hat falls from his fist, and he sags against the door.
That’s when I notice his flushed cheeks, the faint layer of sweat covering his brow, and smell the alcohol.
“Are you drunk?”
“You fucking lied?” he counters.
"Had to get you here somehow," I say, standing firm and folding my arms.
“We’re not dropped?”
“No. We’ve got one more chance.”
He glances around the room, eyes settling on Lex. My hackles rise. “It was my idea,” I tell him. “I wanted you here, so I told him to text you that. I thought it was the only way you'd listen.”
“Can everyone leave, please?” Lex says in an oddly calm tone. I twist to face him, searching for a reason why he’d want us all to go—why he wants me to go. “Michael, I need to speak to you privately.”
What?
“That’s not a good idea,” I bark. “He’s fucking drunk.”
“I’m not drunk,” Michael denies. “I had a few drinks. I’m not a damn alcoholic.”
“I’ve asked nicely. Next time it won’t be nice.”
We all look at Lex. I keep staring, silently begging for any kind of insight.
We don’t have that kind of relationship, though.
Michael and I have something close to a telepathic bond.
We have entire conversations without ever exchanging words.
I’ve kept Lex at too far of an arm’s length.
I’m desperately trying to see what he’s thinking, but he’s a blank fucking wall.
“Let’s go,” Phoenix grumbles, gesturing for everyone to follow.
“Lex?” I ask, giving too much away in my voice.
The hope.
The fact that we kissed, even.
I need him to say, clearly, with actual words, that we are okay and that he wants things to be different now—that nothing will go back to how it was.
He shakes his head once.
My frown is instant, the bitter tang of rejection-adjacent coats my tongue. I don’t fucking like it. This was supposed to be a quick meeting to calm everyone’s nerves, and then I had plans to make my pretty princess come.
What the hell is going on? What the fuck did I miss while standing in this room?
“Devon, you need to go,” he says firmly, and those four words shred apart our white flag.
You need to go.
I shoulder past Michael and fling open the door without looking back.