I’m not sure if he’s worried that his brother is upset, so I offer a small reassurance based on Garrick’s mood lately. “You meant well. I’m sure he knows that. He doesn’t hold grudges. He hasn’t said anything to me about it.”
Chase presses his lips together and remains quiet. We keep the silence as we eat, nothing but the crunchy coating on the cooked poultry filling the kitchen as we empty our plates.
Eventually, after he helps me clean the dishes and then the mess on the counters, he murmurs, “I hope Zayne is okay.”
“Me too.”
There’s a pause, a look of contemplation, before the youngest Matthews pins me with a look and says, “He better be. I want him to be my son’s godfather, and I can’t ask a dead man that sort of thing.”
My eyes widen.
Oh my God.
Chase is going to be a father?
34
Rylee
I hold my breath when Garrick walks on the small makeshift stage and up to the podium where he’s greeted by flashes of cameras. He didn’t dress up for this press conference but looks exactly as he should. Blue jeans fitted to his legs. Rip in the knee. Stain on his thigh. It’s not artfully done but well worn—his favorite pair, he once told me. He has two whole drawers of denim, but he always goes to this pair because he says they’re his “lucky” pair.
The t-shirt he’s in isn’t of Violet Wonders, but a plain black one that’s slightly loose on his trimmed body, not showing off what muscles lie beneath. Muscle I’ve gotten bold in exploring over the past few months. A red and black plaid shirt is left unbuttoned over that, sleeves rolled up, and a leather bracelet that Chase gave him a long time ago on his wrist above his Smartwatch. What most people don’t know is that stitched on the inside of that bracelet is a sobriety token he keeps with him and switches out when new ones are sent to him the longer he’s accomplished staying clean.
His boots make me smile. When I first saw that the bottom of his closet had more pairs of boots than I could count, I’d given him a skeptical look and he’s simply said, “My mum raised a shoe whore.”
The pair he’s wearing are black ones that I bought him for Christmas with the help of his brother. He told me where Garrick liked getting them, and I’d about gone bug-eyed when I saw the number attached to the Italian leather Samuel Hubbard’s currently on his feet. But his face lit up when he’d opened the box, and it made the reality of my situation sweeter, even if I’d never want to spend that much money on one thing again.
Adjusting the microphone, Garrick clears his throat and instantly ends the murmuring among the reporters in the crowd. “I’ll try keeping this as short and sweet as possible since I’m sure we all have better things to do today,” he begins, looking over to me and smirking. “I know I do.”
He winks when everyone laughs, not seeming to care that I’m glaring as I turn red from the insinuation.
Gripping the sides of the podium, he leans into it and sighs. “Look, I know there’s been a lot in the media that me and my band haven’t taken time to address. We decided that we wanted our privacy to work on our album, work through some personal things, and for me, spend time with me beautiful wife.” Once again, his eyes find mine, but this time a warm smile is on his face instead of a cocky one. He looks back to the crowd. “It’s true that when Violet Wonders got back together, there were things left untouched that we should have talked about from the start. And while the things reported about us haven’t been entirely accurate, they haven’t been inaccurate either.
“The guys and I have spent the last few weeks talking about where we see ourselves in the next five years, and it was obvious that we all have different goals in life. For that reason, I’m officially announcing that Late Nights and our Illusion World Tour will be the last events the public will get from Violet Wonders.”
The room instantly fills with rapid questions being tossed at the man behind the podium, so many that I can’t quite understand what any of them are asking. Garrick looks indifferent as he waits for the room to quiet enough for a few people to speak up.
“What does this mean for the individual members of Violet Wonders?” a man asks, shoving a voice recorder forward.
Garrick lifts his shoulders. “That isn’t really my place to talk about. What my friends do with their lives from here on out is their business and their business only.”
A woman asks, “What about Zayne Gray? Is it true he’s planning on going solo?”
I’m not sure many people notice the small tick in his jaw, but I do. Even from where I’m standing off to the side and away from the people still trying to get information from him. “No. Zayne has never been interested in doing a solo album. Though, I’m sure it’d do well if he ever changed his mind.”
“Regarding Mr. Gray,” another woman in the back asks. “Is it true he was under the influence during the Golden Globes? And were you also engaging in the events that led to the photos that’s concerned the public from that night?”
From beside me, I see Gordon nod once when Garrick looks in our direction. He pushes off the podium and stands tall. “Here’s the thing. My sobriety has been a battle every single day for many years, but it’s one I proudly face because I am determined to stay clean knowing it’s what’s best. I made it past the 27 Club
