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  I have to do this. If I truly love this man and want the best for him, then I have to do this, no matter how I feel right now.

  I wrap my arms around him, holding his head to my shoulder while I lift my legs around his hips and drive him deeper. I bind myself to him, giving him that security he seeks as he brings us both to climax.

  “Fuck, Rey. Please,” I beg shamelessly as he sinks his teeth into my shoulder.

  Only I don’t beg for the orgasm he pulls from me. I don’t beg for his release as he cries out, either.

  I beg, above all else, that after tomorrow he’ll be okay.

  That one day, he might forgive me for this.

  That one day, he might understand why I had to do it.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Rey

  “Break Stuff” – Limp Biskit

  “Some of us are trying to sleep, asshole!” Toby yells to be heard over the music.

  Limp Biskit’s “Break Stuff” pounds through the hotel room.

  Toby’s eyes go wide, his head rearing back with a “Don’t you dare” angle to it as he catches sight of me.…

  Poised in the middle of the living area with the swanky horse head ornament that usually sits on the TV cabinet.

  “Put it down,” he says calm and low, hands raised before him.

  I lift it higher. This morning has gone to hell in a handbasket, one bottle of beer at a time.

  “Rey.”

  The white ceramic skitters across the floor in a thousand pieces that accurately represent my goddamn heart.

  “Fuck!”

  Toby disappears into his room, emerging a moment later with a pair of jeans on. He careens out the door, shirtless and shoeless, while I eye up the television. I really, really want to throw that fucker off the balcony, but I don’t think I could take accidentally killing somebody in the street below at this point in time.

  By the time Toby returns with Emery in tow, I’ve ripped the pretentious artwork from the wall and made a pretty picture of the space with my dot-work cutlery.

  “Fuck’s sake, asshole.” Emery marches over and proceeds to rip them from the sheetrock. “You want to end your goddamn career? Wallace is going to have a fit.”

  “Who fucking cares, right?” I back up, hands thrown wide, and straight into Toby.

  He bands his arms around me, which only sets me off worse. I thrash against him, twisting my shoulders in an effort to break free, but the fucker’s always won when we fought since he’s taller and broader than I am.

  “What is the deal, Rey?” he hollers, still competing with Fred Durst.

  “What’s the deal?” Fuck my life—there is no deal, that’s the issue. “Who’s missing? Who isn’t here?” I relax in his hold to play dead.

  “You want me to go get Kris?”

  “Who else should be out here with all the noise I’ve made?” I jerk my body to try and catch him off guard.

  He flicks a leg around mine to put me off balance, and then slams me face-first against the wall. “What did you do?”

  God—it’s poetic. If only kitty could see now. “Always my fault, hey?” I say on a humorless laugh. “She played me, brother. I finally got a taste of my own medicine, and let me tell you, it’s bitter as fuck.”

  “Christ, Rey.” He lets me go to take a step back, hand scrubbing his face when I turn to look at him. “She had to have a reason. I didn’t think she was like that.”

  “Me either.” But hey, life has a pretty fucked-up way of reminding us how good it is at surprises, right?

  “Have you tried calling her?” Emery parks his ass on the arm of the sofa—about the only thing that hasn’t been destroyed in here.

  “Fuck. No. It hadn’t crossed my mind,” I drawl with as much sarcasm as I can muster. “She won’t pick up.”

  “Let me try.” Toby rips his phone out of his jeans, gesturing for Emery to do the same. “Give me yours. She might answer if it’s unknown.”

  I retreat to my room to leave them to it. He’s welcome to do whatever the fuck he wants, but I already know she won’t take the call. How can she when she’s probably in the air?

  I fall face-first onto the bed with a groan, before propping myself on my elbows to retrieve her note. At least she had the decency to give me an explanation, even if it fucking hurt like a motherfucker to read it.

  This isn’t me leaving you. This is me giving you space to see what’s impossible to while I’m there.

  I don’t think there’s an end to us, Rey. Maybe an indefinite pause? I don’t know. But I need you to see what I could, what I couldn’t tell you in my own words—at least not face-to-face.

  I love that you say you find your solace in me, and believe me, Rey, I’m fucking honored. But I want to be by your side because I support you, not TO support you. Can you see that difference? See what I mean?

  I’m going home with a heavy heart, but I know it’s the right thing to do. Finish the tour, do what they want you to, and give it a chance, okay? Maybe the break you’ll get doing rehab is what you need? Maybe it isn’t. You’ll never know if you don’t try.

  All I know is that if I stay, I enable you. I give you an excuse to fall again and again, because why not when there’s somebody there to catch you, right? You said to me at the beginning, what happens when nobody’s there anymore? What happens when you fall?

  To be honest, I think you’ll find that once you hit the ground you’ll be able to properly put your feet down and learn how to stand tall. Until then, you’re floating in an endless black sea while we all hold you up, never really brave enough to test your footing.

  Hit the ground running, Rey. Show me what you can do.

  Do it for me. And do it for yourself.

  xx

  “I left her a message,” Toby calls from the door.

  Now that they’ve killed my soundtrack to life, the silence is painful. It reminds me how alone I am in this. The guys need me to square up and act the good boy for our ringmaster. But I don’t want that. I want to wallow in my anger, and I want somebody to tell me it’s okay to do that.

  Fuck. I’ve proved kitty right. I’m searching for an enabler, somebody to justify my shitty relapse.

  “Read this.” I thrust the letter at Toby. “Tell me if she’s right.”

  He leans a hip against the window frame as his eyes track the lines, legs crossed at the ankle. He’s shut me out, refused to talk to me all week, but I have to hand it to him: he’s always been there for me when I need him most.

  Why have I never appreciated that until now?

  Kitty. She thinks that nothing changed while she was here, but it did, she just didn’t stick around long enough to see it surface.

  I rest my chin on my hands and watch the telltale signs as Toby’s brow pinches, and then smooths as though he sees her point. He folds the sheet in two once he’s done, and then gently sets it on the nightstand.

  I flick it to the floor; just the sight of it pisses me off.

  “She has valid points, bro. You do need to learn how to do this yourself.”

  Jesus—I fucking shake at the thought of tackling it alone. “Doesn’t turn out all that well though, huh?”

  “Only because you don’t believe in your worth.” He sighs, running a hand through his fading hair. “This is why the family have always struggled with you,” he explains. “How many times did Mom and Dad tell you how much they love you, how cut up they’d be without you? How many times did I beg to have my brother back who’d play ball with me? How many times did Cassie sit with you when you were in a funk and make you laugh? You know why she did that?”

  I meet his critical stare and shrug.

  “Because she craved time with her brother. She missed you when you’d hide out in your room.”

  “This doesn’t make me feel any better about myself, you know?”

  “Only because you look for the negative in everything,” he cries. “I bet you’re lying there right now thinking ‘Oh, great. He’s blaming me for it all ag
ain.’”

  “Pretty much.” I lift an eyebrow.

  “Well don’t.” His hand connects with the back of my head, leaving a sting in its wake. “I’m explaining to you how much you mean to all of us, you douche. I’m trying to show you how much we all love you and fucking want to you stick around and annoy the shit out of us until we’re all old and gray, man.”

  Hit me in the feels, why doesn’t he? “Do you get how lost I am trying to work out how to change this when it’s all I’ve known for twenty-plus years?”

  He nods.

  “It’s a hard habit to break, self-loathing.”

  “I know. And you won’t do it in a day. But you also won’t do it if you never try.” He snatches up the letter and shakes it at me. “This should be motivation enough to get up and fucking push for it like you’re fucking Rocky Balboa.”

  I chuckle at the visual of myself punching air on the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. “What if I can’t do it? What if I’ll never be enough for her?”

  He drags a palm over his face. “Did you read a fucking word she wrote?”

  Twice.

  “You’re already enough for her,” he says on his way to the door. “She wants you to be enough for yourself.”

  Fuck. As if this didn’t seem hard enough already.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  Tabitha

  “No More Tears” – Ozzy Osborne

  I threw up before I boarded the plane, nauseous the whole way home. Kendall bundled me into bed, seemingly concerned at the fact I wasn’t bawling my eyes out and surrounded by a mountain of wadded-up tissues. I told her I’d be fine, that I hadn’t eaten properly while following the band around, and that all I needed was a few days of good food to set me right.

  Yet, as I roll over and curse the sunshine that comes through my open curtains, the swirling in my gut reminds me of how easily I can lie these days.

  Stress. It’s nothing but stress. How do I know that? Because the first thing that crossed my mind, right after I realized I fell asleep last night without closing the curtains, let alone getting undressed, was whether or not I’d find a message on my phone to tell me Rey had done something drastic.

  Please be okay. I can’t even fathom how my life would be expected to carry on if I’d caused him to waste his. I’ve unloaded my trust in the three guys that love him unconditionally, Kris the only one who knows why I left, and hoped that they can continue to do what they did before Rey found me.

  Or did I find him?

  Gah. I don’t know anymore. Nothing makes sense.

  My chest feels weighted as I roll to my side and retrieve my phone off the nightstand. I silenced it last night after sending Kendall off to work, frustrated by the constant pinging of my messenger. I relegate the name at the top of the notification banners to my subconscious, blindly tapping through to see who the missed call I received yesterday is from.

  Unknown Number.

  Huh. I wonder if he has Rick onto me, if he’s running that poor guy ragged on some ridiculous crusade to get in touch with me. Bit full of yourself, aren’t you, Tabby? Maybe he doesn’t even care? Maybe Rey has defaulted to the usual and pretends that everything’s fine?

  Guess I’ll only know if I check my messages.

  I open voice mail first, setting my phone on speaker and listening while I rub my eyes with the heel of my hands.

  “Where did you go, Tabitha? Give me a ring; it’s Toby. We need to talk about this, girl. You’ve got my number.”

  I don’t need to discuss squat with him. I’ve done what none of them have been strong enough to do, it seems. I’ve slung Rey over that cliff edge and left him to scramble back up alone, just to prove to him that he can do it.

  “Hey, babe.” Kendall pops her head around my door and looks toward the phone in my lap. “I heard that so figured you were awake.” She slips in the room, settling herself on the foot of my bed. “How are you feeling?”

  “Rotten.”

  She sighs, her eyes soft as she looks me over. “You’re braver than I am.”

  “How?” I drop a bitter laugh.

  “I couldn’t do it. I would have followed him around like a lovesick puppy, slowly ruining myself in the process. I don’t know how you do it, switch feelings off like that.”

  “Because I haven’t.” I slide down the bed and pull a pillow over my face. “What if he tries suicide again? How the fuck do I live with that?”

  “I don’t know,” she murmurs.

  Great. I’m not the only one who can’t process my current conundrum. “I did the right thing, didn’t I?”

  “I think so.” The weight of her hand is reassuring as she rubs my leg through the blankets. “Give yourself a distraction today and go for a walk. Do some door-knocking if you’re really serious about getting a day-job.”

  “To be honest, hon, I might do it tomorrow. I can’t think straight today.”

  I want to cry into my cereal and pity myself for sabotaging something so real, yet at the same time I’m too proud, even now, to do it.

  I left Rey to prove a point. What would he make of me if I ran back to him apologizing for standing up for what’s right?

  Would he even forgive me after what I’ve done?

  “What are the plans for the day?” Kendall tugs the blankets from my body, giving my ankle a slap for good measure. “You can’t hang out in bed all day.”

  “Can’t I?” I choke out.

  Rey wanted to stay in bed all day. Oh, God. It begins. My stomach knots, my eyes on fire with my determination not to cry. It’s no use: the stress needs an outlet. And because I deny myself the right to bawl like a little bitch over what I’ve done, my body picks the only other option.

  I launch from the bed and barely make it to the bathroom before the remnants of last night’s dinner come back up. My hands shake as I reach for a towel, the jitters never really having stopped since they began as I shut the hotel door behind me.

  Why the hell am I doing this to myself? For him. If only he knew the price I’m willing to pay for love. He probably thinks I’m blissfully going on about my life, content with what I’ve done. But I’m not, and I can’t decide if letting him know that this hurts me too is a good or a bad thing?

  Probably bad.

  “Are you okay?”

  I nod, wiping my face before looking to Kendall. “Can you do me a favor?”

  “Anything, babe.” She edges further into the bathroom.

  “Take my phone and delete the message thread with Rey.” Don’t be sick again. Everything will be fine.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Not really.” I let slip a sad laugh. “That’s why I need you to do it.”

  She leaves, my heart thundering in my ears as I strain to follow the sounds of her moving through the apartment. Relief mixes with the strange sense of loss I get as her footsteps track closer.

  “Before I do.” Shit. “Do you want me to tell you what the new ones say?”

  I shake my head, too weak to voice my answer.

  “Last chance, Tab.” She stands with her thumb poised over the screen in my periphery.

  “Do it.”

  Kendall drops a loaded sigh before whispering, “All gone, babe.”

  I guess this is kind of what it would feel like if he died.

  FORTY-NINE

  Rey

  “Coming Undone” - Korn

  “Jesus. What are you doing?”

  I roll away from the windows as Toby tugs the heavy hotel drapes open.

  “We need to leave in five fucking minutes.”

  “I know,” I gripe, moving my sheet music to the floor on the far side of the bed so I can continue with it in relative darkness.

  He snatches my acoustic guitar by the neck and marches around the foot of the bed. Scuffed boots stop perilously short of my scrap paper. “Move.”

  “Yeah, in a minute.” I wave him off before sliding my upper half off the mattress to make an adjustment to one of the chords.

>   Toby sighs as Emery enters the room. “Take this.” He thrusts my guitar at him.

  I’m in for it now.

  He takes one step forward as I awkwardly try to worm myself back onto the bed. “Fuck off, bro. I just need a bit more time.”

  “We don’t have time,” he grits out through a stiff jaw, lunging for my leg.

  I crab crawl backward across the bed until my hands hit the far side.

  “We already changed the whole fucking day around just for you.” Toby’s palm connects with my shin.

  I kick at him, failing to dislodge his grip as he adds his other hand and pulls me toward him in a vise grip. “I can’t do this,” I cry out in a panic.

  He huffs when I stop before him, bedding bunched under my ass. “You have to.”

  “Why?” I whine.

  He sets both hands on my shoulders and squeezes. “You want a nine to five job, little brother?” His eyes are firm as he ducks his head to meet mine. “If you think this is hard, try blowing that responsibility off. Having to get up every day and go, not just because people expect you to like they do now, but because you have to if you want to eat.”

  Kitty. Is that what it’s like for her to push on when life seems determined to shit on her?

  “Fine. I get your point,” I gripe, pushing on his chest. “I’ll be out in a few; let me get dressed.”

  He steps back, and then promptly marches his ass to the armchair in the corner of the room.

  “What are you doing?” I slip my legs off the side of the bed, hands braced either side as I narrow my eyes at him.

  He drops his ass onto the seat and sets his arms on the rolled rests. “Waiting.”

  “Pervert.”

  “Just get on with it.”

  Fucker. He knew as well as I did I had no intention of getting dressed. I drag my sorry ass across the room and kick my jeans that lie in a heap on the floor toward the bathroom. He hoists a T-shirt at me that had been hung over the side of his chair. I catch it mid-air, and then toss it down with the jeans to kick the pile into the adjacent room.