Page 164

I put my shoulder into it, applying just enough pressure to widen the opening without destroying whatever was blocking it. After a little maneuvering, I managed to squeeze my big ass through the gap.

Immediately, I understood the problem.

There were boxes everywhere. Some were stacked three or four high, while others sat open with their contents spilling over the edges.

I carefully stepped around a box overflowing with clothes and nearly tripped over another one. My eyes widened when I realized the box contained Obsydian Trip merchandise.

A black hoodie with the band’s logo lay folded on top of several shirts. Beneath it were what looked like promotional posters, vinyl records, and a stack of laminated backstage passes. I stared at them for a moment before moving my gaze to the box beside it.

Two fucking Grammys sat in the cardboard box like somebody had packed away a couple of participation trophies from a middle school science fair.

“Holy shit,” I breathed out, crouching beside the box. I studied the gold gramophones nestled among several pieces of clothing. I’d seen enough of them on TV to recognize them, but seeing them sitting on the floor of my girlfriend’s bedroom was something else entirely.

I shook my head in disbelief before my attention shifted to the mattress still sitting on the floor after we’d broken her bed frame. A small mound beneath a soft pink comforter occupied the middle of the mattress. I could just make out the top of her bonnet peeking out from beneath the covers.

“I’m back, Sugar,” I announced gently, kicking off my sneakers and carefully navigating the remaining obstacle course of her secret life that existed in cardboard boxes. I stopped at her desk long enough to set down the plastic container of cookies I’d brought her. I pulled my hoodie over my head, tossed it onto the desk chair, and eased down onto the edge of the mattress.

“Hey, Sugar.”

Still nothing.

I rested my hand on her hip above the comforter.

“Monica told me you’ve been having a rough week. I tried calling you last night and this morning.”

No response.

I glanced around the room again, taking in the half-packed boxes, the scattered belongings, and the two Grammys sitting less than ten feet away. There were about a thousand things I wanted to ask her, but none of my curiosities seemed important. What I needed was for my girlfriend to acknowledge me and let me love through her pain.

“So…” I began. “I ran into Snoh in Denver, and it was on sight.”

I fought a smile when the comforter moved.

“Apparently, Snoh isn’t all talk like I thought he was.”

A few seconds passed before I heard a muffled voice from under the cover.

“What?”

I smirked. “Not gonna lie. He fucked me up. I think my nose might be broken.”

Vera whipped the blanket off of her and peered into my face. I had a busted lip and a bruise under my right eye, but that was the extent of my injury.

“Your nose isn’t broken?” she asked, her voice raspy, as if she hadn’t used it in days.

I shook my head. “It’s not, but I didn’t know what else to say to get you to talk to me.”

She pulled herself up and propped herself up against the wall behind her. “Did you really fight my brother, or did you get that black eye in a scrum?”

“Your brother fought me, and I defended myself.”

“Who won?”

I stared at her like she had lost it. I couldn’t blame her, because in a different situation, that would’ve been my first question.

“It was a tie.”

“Hmm. That’s what the loser usually says.”