“I can’t live without her, Lib.”
“She can’t live with you, Kade. I’m so sorry, but if you love her, you have to let her go and you have to keep doing your music. If you don’t, it will destroy her.”
I want to be sick, but more than that I want to put my fist through something. Feel the knuckles break like I broke Emily. “How do I keep doing what I do when I know it’s what destroyed us?”
Libby moves my hair out of my eyes. “Because you didn’t do anything wrong. Jealousy is an ugly beast that rears its head when one least expects it. Honey, you have to believe this isn’t about you. Emily has been confiding in me about her conflict for a few months now—it’s why she stopped going on tour with you. This is a journey she needs to take for herself. By herself. And you need to live yours.”
Libby drove me home. I drank half a bottle of Jack while I cleaned the bathroom. After taking off my bloodstained clothes, I collapsed on the couch in my underwear. I couldn’t face the bed Emily and I shared. I didn’t know how I was going to face anything.
Chapter 1
Hayley
Present Day …
I stare at the sodden toilet paper, the scarlet stain bringing bile to my throat as fear constricts my chest. As if on autopilot, I discard the toilet paper and pull more off the roll, closing my eyes and willing a different result with everything I have. Tears sting and a wave of nausea washes over me as an even darker stain mocks me. I can’t believe I just found out the pregnancy test I took was a false negative, and now this is happening.
Three Weeks Ago …
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and rest my forehead on my arms. This is disgusting, I should move, I know I should, but I just don’t have the energy. When I first got sick, I thought I had food poisoning from the snacks backstage, but when the nausea persisted, I thought it might be a bug. When I mentioned it to Bridget, my closest friend, she asked the question that resulted in me staring at the pregnancy test lying next to me on the floor. Relief from the result is paramount and telling.
One line.
Only one line.
Another wave of nausea washes through me, and I vomit spectacularly into the bowl. I don’t hear the footsteps approaching over the sound of my gagging, but I can’t miss the anger in Ethan’s tone.
“The fuck?”
I manage to stop vomiting, inhaling deep breaths through my nose and exhaling out my mouth as I watch Ethan swipe the test off the floor. He stares at it, his face blotching an angry red, and then he waves it at me like a weapon.
“What the fuck is this, Hayley?”
My stomach heaves again, and I barely turn my head in time. How much longer is this going to go on? Surely there is nothing left to throw up? More than that, what is wrong with me? Why am I so sick? One look at Ethan’s angry face has my stomach twisting, and the ever-present anxiety that has accompanied me like a shadow over the last few weeks answers my question for me. I can’t live like this anymore.
Ethan starts ranting, paying absolutely no attention to the fact that I’m losing all my stomach contents here.
“I fucking told you I don’t want kids. Do you have any idea what a baby would do to my career right now? I’m about to go on tour…” The tirade goes on and on, but I can barely hear him over the sound of my retching. My throat and head hurt from being sick, and all I want is to lie down on the cold tiles and feel sorry for myself. He makes no move to help me or comfort me. Instead, he continues to rant about his precious career and how I’ve sabotaged him. Demanding an answer from me. If I wasn’t trying to breathe in between heaves I would actually find this laughable.
Ethan is the frontman for Metal Stones, an alternative rock band currently charting at number ten. We met at a party a little over a year ago where egos were running wild. I guess I should have known then what I was getting into, but even rock stars get stupid when starstruck. I fell for Ethan’s bullshit. I fell for everything that came out of his mouth. He was damn good at hiding who he really was, but when you spend enough time around someone, slowly that mask slips until they no longer care if the ugly underneath is showing.
It’s true, things were great at first. Metal Stones were topping the charts, and Ethan was riding high. He swept me up with promises of taking my career to the next level. I’d already released four albums and was doing great—I even had more than a few number ones off them, but Ethan felt I had way more potential. He used his connections to get me a new deal with a new label, and that’s how I found Sam, my current manager. She was aggressive and had all the right contacts, and before
