Page 98 of Before You Fell

For half a second, I hear nothing but the blood rushing in my ears. As if that is all she is. A name in the credits.

“Go fuck yourself,” I tell him.

My hands are shaking. I hate every visible sign of fear on me, every tremor that gives me away, how scared I am right now, that I could lose her before I get to her.

Damon stares at me. “You are done. If you walk out that door, I will make sure you are finished.”

Cruz steps between us. “Back the fuck off, Damon.”

“You stay out of this.”

“No.” Cruz’s voice drops to a whisper. “You back the fuck off before I handle what Phoenix started.”

“Car’s coming around.” Jax is already moving toward the exit.

“I’m calling the hospital.” Jett has his phone pressed to his ear.

Damon’s voice follows us as we move toward the exit. “You have contracts. All of you. If you walk out of here, there will be lawsuits. You hear me? Lawsuits.”

Jax shoves the door open and we all climb into the car.

Jax drives. Jett sits in the front passenger seat, phone pressed to his ear. Cruz sits next to me in the back seat, staring out the window, his expression unreadable.

I try to keep the air moving in and out of my body. But it refuses to.

The headline keeps carving itself into the inside of my skull.

Songwriter. That word pisses me off all over again. As if she were not the first person to look at a loudmouthed asshole with a secondhand guitar and see a future worth bleeding for.

My fingers curl so tightly that my nails bite into my palms.

The first pill.

Fuck.

I gave her the first fucking pill. I can still see it in my hand. I told her to trust me, that it was nothing, just one stupid night, one stupid high. I smiled as I handed it over.

Jesus Christ.

My stomach turns so hard that acid burns the back of my throat. Then my brain really decides to fuck with me.

Her sitting beside me on that couch, asking if I’d ever had a crush on her.

And me. I gave her the truth. For about three fucking seconds. Then I hid it behind a joke because I would rather appear foolish than admit she had been able to break me since we were kids.

The nightclub. Every bastard looking at her. Every pair of eyes making me want to start swinging, even as I kept telling myself I was just being territorial.

Bullshit. I wanted her for so long I’d forgotten there’d ever been a version of me who didn’t.

The storage room. The way she gave herself to me without holding back. I took everything she offered, then walked away, pretending it was only sex because that lie was easier to carry than the truth.

Then another memory punches straight through my ribs.

The woman under the table. Her mouth wrapped around my cock. Willow standing there.

Jesus fucking Christ. I can still see her face.

I press my palm to my mouth and stare out the window as the city tears past in blurred streaks.