I’d rather stick a rusty screwdriver through my jugular, but she gives me another nudge. A harder one that draws the attention of a few people standing nearby. “Go on.”
I wouldn’t put it past the woman to grab me by my ear and drag me, so I save myself the trouble—and the embarrassment—and go over there myself.
Like me, they’re dressed in all-black Armani suits. The same ones we wore to Josh’s funeral.
I shove my hands in the pockets of my slacks. “Hi.”
Pushing his sunglasses up his nose, Memphis regards Storm. “Do you hear something?”
“Nah,” Storm grunts. “Unless you mean the backstabbing piece of shit who used to be our bandmate.”
The words sting, but at least I know exactly where they stand now.
I gave up everything to get the girl I love back, and that includes them.
“Thanks for coming,” I mutter before walking away.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Memphis snarls. “That’s all you have to say to us?”
“I don’t know why you’re surprised,” Storm scoffs. “He’s always been a selfish prick.”
That does it.
Turning around, I glare at him. “Fuck you.”
Some woman placing flowers on a headstone the next row over casts me a dirty look.
Memphis narrows his eyes. “You’ve already fucked us enough, asshole.”
“Without lube,” Storm adds.
Dragging a hand down my face, I exhale sharply. “I didn’t mean—”
“Bullshit,” Storm interjects. “You know exactly what you did. You’ve known for years.”
He’s got me there. “I should have told you.”
Memphis lets out a humorless laugh. “Or maybe you could have just—I don’t know—not stolen our hit fucking song.”
“Last I checked, they don’t make time machines.”
“Too bad,” Storm states. “Maybe then I’d let you die instead of pulling your sorry ass out of that car.” He salutes me with his middle finger. “But hey, enjoy the rest of your life with your new bride. Gotta hand it to you, man. Manipulating the girl whose song you stole into marrying you was a genius move. I’m sure Chandler and Vic are thrilled.”
I expected his anger and hostility. It’s Storm, it would be weird if he wasn’t having a bitch fit.
But wishing he left me for dead and thinking I married Lennon as some kind of PR stunt is a special kind of low.
I considered this asshole my family. My brother.
And he knows damn well that I love Lennon because three minutes before I coded in that goddamn ambulance, I told him.
“You know I’d never do that to her.”
The corners of his eyes crease as he scrutinizes me. “The only thing I know is that you’re a snake.” His expression turns hard. “A worthless scumbag, just like your pops.”
Indignity surges through me…and then comes the rage.
He’s hit below the belt, not once, but twice now. Fuck this motherfucker.
I launch my fist into his face.
Storm stumbles back in disbelief. Then he punches me in the stomach.
I cough a few times. Getting hit in the stomach fucking sucks, but this shit is far from over. “You hit like a bitch, Reese.”
He hates being called by his first name because it’s his father’s. The only one who’s allowed to use it without meeting the wrath of God is Grams.
Storm puffs out his chest like a peacock and rolls his shoulders back, like a boxer getting ready to fight.
Bring it on.
“Good thing we’re at a cemetery because you’re a dead man.”
I motion for him to hit me again. “And you’re a fucking pussy.”
“Better than being a liar. I hope Lennon takes you to the cleaners before kicking your ass to the curb.”
White-hot rage surges once more and then I lose my shit…and so does he.
Snarling curses and slinging punches left and right, we pummel the shit out of each other.
Commotion rings out behind me, and a few people gasp. One of them being Skylar and the other Grams.
“I told you to talk to them, not start a brawl. What is the matter with you boys?” She whacks us with her purse. “Stop attacking each other. This is a funeral, for crying out loud.”
It’s about to be Storm’s.
“I’m not sure which one to put money on,” Quinn exclaims. “Storm’s bigger, but my brother’s scrappier.”
“Nothing to see here, folks,” Memphis says to the horrified onlookers. “Just a little family discussion.”