Only what Phoenix did to me was worse. Much worse.
And here I am having sex with him like everything is hunky-dory.
Yet, he still won’t even admit what he did to me.
The only one who got a free pass in our scenario is him.
I’m not just stupid. I’m weak and senseless.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out, the reality of it asphyxiating me. “I’m so sor—”
I don’t get to finish that statement because Phoenix wraps a hand around George’s throat and shoves him against the wall. “Say one more word to her and I will fucking kill you.”
There’s a collective gasp backstage and the girls at the meet-and-greet table start snapping photos with their cell phones.
I dig my nails into Phoenix’s hand, attempting to pry them from George’s throat before he loses consciousness. “Leave him alone. He didn’t do anything wrong.”
Phoenix looks at me like I’m insane. “He hurt you.”
“No.” Tears blur my vision as a mass of people rush over. “You did.”
I grind my molars so hard I’m surprised they don’t turn to dust when my phone vibrates with another text message.
Rolling over in bed, I peer down at my phone.
Phoenix: Talk to me.
I have nothing to say. Or rather, nothing he’ll want to hear.
I’m thankful he can’t barge in here like he usually does because this hotel doesn’t have connecting rooms.
Won’t stop him from calling and texting me all night, though.
Dots at the bottom of the screen appear and then disappear, before appearing again.
Phoenix: Come on, Groupie. You can’t avoid me forever.
Ha. Watch me.
It’s what I was planning on doing after the tour ended anyway.
Now it’s twelve days ahead of schedule.
With a huff, I throw my phone across the room.
“Is my brother still pissing you off?” Quinn questions with a frown. “According to Skylar, boys get dumber with age.”
Skylar’s not wrong.
However, despite only knowing her big brother for a short time, it’s clear Quinn thinks the world of him.
I don’t want to ruin that for her.
Because I know better than anyone how devastating it is to find out the person you care about isn’t who you thought they were.
Ugh. It’s going to be hard hiding my disdain while sharing a room with her for the next twelve days.
I’m about to tell her everything’s fine, but she starts tossing some of the clothes and toiletries Skylar recently bought her into a small tote bag.
I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s almost midnight.
“Where are you going?”
“Last I checked, you were Phoenix’s babysitter. Not mine.”
She’s right.
But the girl has a history of fleeing.
Dread coils my insides and I sit up. “Please don’t run away.”
I’m thinking of ways to bribe her to stay when her pretty face splits into a grin. “God, you should see your face right now.” She stuffs a pair of pajamas into the tote. “Relax. Skylar invited me to her room for a sleepover. She’s gonna teach me how to do my makeup and then we’re gonna give ourselves mani-pedis.” A hopeful glint enters her eyes. “Wanna come?”
As much as I don’t want to disappoint her, I won’t be much fun, given my sour mood.
“Can I take a rain check?”
Shrugging, she shoulders her bag. “Fine. But only if you let me borrow your Doc Martens.”
It seems wheeling and dealing is one of her favorite pastimes.
“You got it.”
She heads for the door, but I call her back. “Quinn?”
She turns. “What’s up?”
“You swear you’re going to Skylar’s room, right?”
If she runs away on my watch and gets hurt again, I’ll never forgive myself.
Tilting her head, she sighs. “Holy crap. Yes.” Her expression turns serious. “No cap.”
I have no idea what that means.
“It means no lie,” she calls out.
In that case, it isn’t genetic.
After she leaves, I walk to the other side of the room and pick my cell up off the floor.
I’m debating if it’s too late to call Mrs. Palma when I hear a knock.
I jog over to the door. “Did you forget your—”
I stop talking when I realize he’s standing there.
As much as I want to slam it in his face, he might be here to tell me something work related.
I cross my arms over my chest, mainly because I’m pissed but also because I’m not wearing a bra under my white pajama top. “What do you want?”