Page 65 of These Wicked Hearts

I look over at my idiot best friend with his chin resting on his palms, elbows on my counter.

“You’re a dick.”

Atlas smiles now and it brings me a little bit of relief. This is how he should always look. Happy. I walk over to him, because fuck my best friend very much, and press a quick kiss to his lips.

“Have a safe flight.” I bite my tongue when the urge to tell him to call me later hits.

“Yeah.” There’s something in his eyes, but it clears fast before he walks out the door.

“Holy fucking shit he’s hot!”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Damn, I came here to see why you’ve been so distant lately. Now I get it. I’d be distant too.”

“Is that all you came for?”

“Uh no, unfortunately. Jim’s been blowing up my phone. He said you bailed on the meeting about the studio session. That’s not like you.”

“I wanted a break. That means nothing music related for three months. He should know better.” Although that’s not what I bailed on, but Chen doesn’t know that. “I’m just tired. I just need some time.”

Chen folds his arms over his chest. “I’ve known you since way before anyone gave a shit about us. I know something’s up, Gage. Talk to me.”

My grip on the counter tightens. “Drop it.”

“No.” Chen shakes his head. Stubborn idiot. “I’m not going to drop it. There’s something going on with you, aside from sleeping with that sexy-ass man. You look like you’re falling apart.”

“I’m not falling apart.”

“Then why are you ignoring us? Huh?” Chen shoots back. “Why haven’t you joined us for writing sessions? I know you said no music or anything for three months, but I know you. You always used to be the one who begged us to write with you. We’d play and write for hours. Lately it’s like you’re a ghost.”

I look up at him, and his inky irises sharpen on me. “I’m not a ghost. I want a fucking break. How hard is that to understand?”

“Uh because I know you. Break or not you never needed space from music. We’d be the ones telling you to leave us the hell alone when you’d call us at three in the morning with some lyrics you wrote. Music’s your life, and if you need a break from it, there’s a problem. When’s the last time you even played for fun?” He shrugs. “What’s going on, Gage?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He waits a moment. “You’ve been so different lately. This isn’t you.”

My jaw tightens. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then tell me.” Chen lifts off the bar stool, lowering his voice. “You can tell me nothing’s wrong, but I know you. Better than anyone. Never forget that. I know something’s wrong. I just hope you know you can tell me.”

I won’t put that on them. I won’t let them know the only reason we have what we do is because of the sacrifices I’ve had to make. I took a short cut. I sold my soul and now I’m dealing with the payout.

Chen steps in front of me, jaw tight.

A wave of hurt slaps me. I miss him. I miss how everything used to be. I miss when it was just the four of us in a shitty motel coming up with new lyrics and concepts. At the time we joked about wanting to do this anonymously, with masks. Declan has really bad anxiety, so we tried to come up with a solution that meant he wouldn’t feel so exposed when we got famous, which we joked about, because in our minds it was the goal, but we thought that dream was impossible. Now it’s who we are.

Except my mask never comes off. It just morphs and changes depending on who’s around me.

Except with Atlas.

“I’m just in my head is all,” I say quietly. “Every time I try to write it’s like something in my brain pushes back. Like it doesn’t want me to.”

Chen frowns. “What does that even mean?”

“It means . . .” I take a breath. “It means the music doesn’t feel like mine anymore.” I swallow. “When I try, it’s like I’m not writing for us. I’m writing to fulfill a quota. It’s all money to them. It all feels empty.” While it’s not the whole truth, it’s part of it. Our last album was the worst. It was fine, the music was fine, but it was filled with corporate-approved songs they thought would appeal to the masses.