Three—my car is fixed.
What Garrick thinks of me doesn’t matter, but I’m still shaken when I gather my things and climb out of bed. I’ve never been one for walks of shame, and this feels like one I’ll never come back from. Me a drug user? I’ve never even smoked pot in my lifetime much less anything else. The only thing that comes close is the cigarette I tried once that Moffie’s brother gave me, but I hacked up a lung so bad it turned me off from them completely. He’d laughed, I’d blushed, and I swore I wouldn’t try anything like that again just to get a guy’s attention.
Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I avoid any possible interaction with the two men I know are home as I slip out the front door. It doesn’t stop me from feeling the burning gaze plastered to the back of my head as I walk down the driveway.
Ten minutes later, a car pulls up outside the gate, and I find myself looking over my shoulder at the house one last time. A curtain is drawn back in the living room, but I know from the dark hair that it’s not Garrick watching me, it’s Chase.
I don’t offer him a wave. A smile. Anything. Instead, I drop my head, grip my bag, and depart for the car garage where my temporary home is parked.
Do not cry, Rylee.
I suck in a breath and hear the driver ask if I’m all right. Grandpa Al used to say that it’s okay to not be okay, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to tell everyone I encounter.
So, I give him the default answer that I feed everybody because it’s easier than explaining the truth. “Yeah,” I croak, clearing my throat. “I’m fine.”
I’m sure he can tell it’s a lie, but he’s not paid to care. That can be the fourth thing I’m grateful for today.
5 Garrick
The guys all cuss me out after I tell them to take ten before we start again. I grab a bottle of water and drop down onto the leather couch behind all the instruments, scrubbing my face before letting out a heavy sigh of frustration.
Before I left the house this morning, Chase asked what happened with Rylee. It’s rare I bring anyone home and even rarer I lose my shit and kick them out the next morning. Even the women that tend to piss me off get better treatment than Rylee did. But what else was I supposed to do? I know my strengths and weaknesses and being around any type of substance could make me spiral.
I can’t afford to take time off for another trip to rehab, and neither can the band.
“What’s got you in such a shit mood?” Zayne asks, plopping down beside me and nudging my leg with his knee. “The guys are all whipped from last night and you’re riding them hard over one song. Maybe you should have stayed longer and gotten laid so you’d be less tense today.”
In my defense, Jax keeps messing up the bridge. He came in hungover after only a few hours of sleep, so it’s not completely on my poor mood alone that we’re having to keep replaying the same song. “If we can’t get it right next time, we’ll move on to a new one,” I offer, not addressing his other comment.
My friend studies me for a long moment while I down half my water to relieve my sore throat. I don’t say anything as he shakes his head and settles an arm on the back of the couch. “You’ve always been a good liar unless something’s bothering you. But I’m not going to beg you to tell me. I’m sure it has to do with that chick you helped last night.”
Eyeing him, he grins knowingly. “Taz called me this morning. You know he’s a gossip.”
What a shithead. “That man gossips more than Jax does, and that asshole is practically a middle school girl. Did Eddie tell him?”
Zayne snorts over the accurate comparison. “That’s a good way to describe Jax. Yeah, Eddie told him. Taz told me he thought it was cool you helped the girl out in her situation. Ed, too, since he decided to blabber on about what an upstanding citizen you are compared to some people he’s encountered during tows. Must be because the Aussie in you.”
“Situation,” I spit, the word tasting sour in my mouth as I glare at the floor. Reaching into my pocket for a wild cherry-flavored Lifesavers, I glower at the candy and rip it out of its wrapper with more aggression than necessary. “Her situation is that she’s wasting her money on the wrong type of shit instead of supporting herself. I get that addiction is a struggle, but that doesn’t make it suck any less when you’re taken advantage of.” When I see him gape at me with those unblinking whiskey eyes women go fucking nuts over, I let my irritation out. “What?”
Sitting forward, he rests his elbows on his knees and turns his head toward me. “What exactly happened? You normally brush this sort of shit off. People use us all the time.”
He’s right. I’ve learned to handle the users that come and go. It’s part of the lifestyle since I made a name for myself. But when you’re the giver, you need to set limits because the takers never will.
“She brought drugs into my house, mate. You know I can’t have that around me. Last time it happened I nearly relapsed.”
“But you didn’t,” he reminds me firmly, knowing the low moment I’m referring to. It was at his party, so I should have known what I was walking into—drugs, alcohol, and live porn. His get-togethers are notorious for stunts like that, even if he doesn’t always engage in the activities himself. And I know it’s because of me.
All the guys vowed not to have anything that could trigger me on the tour bus,
