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The rest of Dean’s annoying words faded away as he made his way down the hallway with Brodie.

“What the fuck is going on?” I growled.

“I’m dating. Just like I told you. He’s great.”

I scoffed. “You don’t date.”

“I guess I do now.”

“Why? A few months ago, you didn’t even want to leave the house. Now you’re playing it with that guy?”

Faise shrugged. “When I’m not working, I go stir crazy all alone. And I need more than jamming and playing video games. It’s time to grow up. I want more than a hook up. And being your eternal wingman.”

I stepped back like I’d been slapped.

“Where is all this coming from? Talk to me,” I implored him.

Faise looked away, shaking his head.

“Nothing changes. We can still hang,” he whispered. “But maybe, with other people too, yeah?”

I was about to argue when he looked up at me, and I saw the determined look in his eyes. I didn’t want to lose Faise, so I accepted what he was telling me. His stubborn nature meant arguing with him was futile. I was gonna go along, to get along. But that didn’t mean I was going to accept this total about face.

Then, I didn’t have to worry at all. Or, so I thought.

Two weeks later, Faise and Dean were done. I never asked. He never said.

My boo was back.

Only, things were never quite the same.

CHAPTER 11

FAISE

AGE 29

My experience dating Dean—if you could call it that since it only lasted five weeks—left me convinced that I was not cut out for a relationship.

He was charming and the sex was great, but my heart wasn’t in it. How could it be when it already belonged to someone else? I put that experience behind me, acting like it never even happened. Frustration turned to acceptance. Of a sort.

Then I had no time to worry about my feelings. Not about my unsuccessful attempt at a relationship and not about Ro. There was my family to consider. Even though my brother and I had walked different paths, we always stayed in touch by text and via calls. But lately, he stopped replying, and a gnawing ache in my gut told me that something wasn’t right.

I had a week off before me and the guys were headed to NOLA for a charity concert on Halloween. While I was getting my shit ready for our trip, my mom called.

I hesitated to answer it.

Things were tense between us since I’d come out of rehab. Not that my family didn’t love me, but they worried, and they wanted me to get out of the rock n roll business and into something more stable. It didn’t matter where I worked. The temptation would always be there. An addict will find a way to get what they want, no matter where they live or work. I explained this to my mom, but I don’t think she or my dad fully understood the nature of my illness.

Finally, on the fifth ring, I answered. “Hey Mom, what’s up?”

“Rae’s in the hospital.”

“What? What happened?”

“The doctor said he,” she paused, sobbing. “He overdosed.”

I sat down on my bed, my legs numb, my heart beating wildly. No way. Not Rae. He’d never.

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