Page 23 of Pretty Little Rocker

He’d scored with Maddie Dawson. That was all the guys at school cared about.

Meanwhile, the girls at both schools ripped Maddie apart, calling her a whore, which was only the tamest of what they said about her. I ended up in countless fights with girls—and a few boys—after hearing them drag my friend down.

Maddie struggled with what to do for a long time after finding out she was pregnant. To have the baby. To keep her or give her up for adoption. In the end, my aunt Trinity and her husband, Maddie’s dad, adopted Avalyn.

But even that choice had fucked with Maddie’s head. Postpartum was a scary experience for anyone, but especially for a sixteen-year-old who had decided she didn’t want to be a mom, while living under the same roof with the child she’d birthed, seeing her every day, struggling with the guilt, the depression, the continued bullying at school.

Six months after Avalyn’s birth, Maddie swallowed a bottle of pills. If her brother, Banks, hadn’t been home when she’d done it, hadn’t heard her sobbing after she’d gulped them down, then she would have succeeded in her attempt to end her life.

Banks had shoved his finger down his sister’s throat, causing her to vomit up most of what she’d just swallowed, all while having 9-1-1 on the phone. Afterward, Maddie had spent a few weeks in an in-patient treatment program. Her road back to the old Maddie we loved so much was slow, and even now, I wasn’t convinced she was one hundred percent back to where she would have been if Holden Renchford hadn’t ruined her life.

I didn’t want to fuck up the progress she’d made with her mental health over the years. But Kyrie wasn’t Holden. I was pretty sure his family had treated him like crap growing up, but that was only me speculating. His family lived right beside Pop-Pop and Nana, which meant I’d seen Holden and Hannah enough times outside of school to know how they were when they weren’t with their friends. But I rarely saw Kyrie.

After he turned eighteen, he completely disappeared. Maybe he didn’t even know what his asshole of a brother had done to Maddie.

He shouldn’t have to carry the guilt of what his family had done to my stepcousin. I didn’t want to hold it against him.

But I was scared.

What if my being with Ky triggered Maddie? What if she hated me for our relationship?

There were so many what-ifs that I couldn’t think straight. I stayed in my room all day Friday and Saturday. I called Abi once, but Sparks and Jamie kept blowing up my phone during the thirty seconds we were chatting, and I ended the call quickly. Afterward, I avoided answering any other calls. An unknown caller popped up on my phone, and I almost answered it. Instead, it went to voice mail, and like every other message that day, I didn’t listen to it.

I should have answered that call.

Saturday night, I couldn’t take seeing Jamie’s or Sparks’s or Ky’s names popping up on my screen any longer. I wanted to hear their voices, ached to see them. Sitting around tormenting myself over all the what-ifs wasn’t doing anything but giving me a headache. On top of that, I couldn’t go out because the whole Havoc reveal had caused a bit of drama, and some of my followers were turning into creepers, so my parents wanted me to stay home or take security if I went anywhere.

I hadn’t slept in days, and all I wanted was for my guys to hold me, damn it.

After forcing my brother to cover for me so I didn’t have to deal with security following me, I took an Uber to Carver Towers. Showing up at their apartment seemed like a good idea until I got there and realized that I couldn’t simply go up to the penthouse. Or any apartment, for that matter. Security was tight, something I’d forgotten about with everything else I’d had going through my head over the past few days.

A man in a suit opened the door for me when I reached it, his eyes narrowed as he took in my shredded pink hoodie that displayed the neon-green sports bra I had on beneath it. My black sweats sat low on my hips, showing off my flat stomach and the small birthmark just above the right side of my pelvic bone. My white running shoes were from a company that sponsored Havoc’s videos.

He didn’t stop me as I walked into the lobby, but the man dressed in a similar suit standing behind a reception desk did. With a tight smile on his face, he greeted me. “Good evening, miss. How may I help you?”

“Oh…” I faltered. “I’m here to visit my…friends?” It came out as a question because what the fuck was I supposed to call them? We were bandmates now, but I wasn’t so sure the security of this place knew that the tenants residing in the penthouse were kick-ass rockers. Anonymity and all.

My question/answer only tightened the man’s face into an unreadable mask. “And which friends would that be, Miss…?”

“Cutter,” I muttered, reluctantly giving him my last name, only slightly surprised he didn’t know who I was. “Um, Ky Carver?”

Features unchanging, the security guard started typing away on a computer in front of him. “Apologies, Miss Cutter. But I don’t seem to have you down as an approved guest for any of the Mr. Carvers.”

That only irritated me—and hurt my feelings. They hadn’t added me to their guest list. What the fuck? Which pissed me off. I didn’t want to have feelings that could be hurt. I wasn’t soft like that. It took a lot to make me emotional in a way that left me with a sore heart.

Swiping my thumb over my phone’s screen, I typed out a quick text. I’d barely hit send before the phone on the man’s desk rang. Crossing my arms over my chest, I tapped my foot impatiently while he took his time picking up. “Carver Towers,” he answered before stumbling through a few quick, very hushed words and hung up, all while typing rapidly.

His throat hadn’t stopped bobbing when the elevator doors slid open, and Sparks stepped off. Dark eyes turned to melted chocolate when he saw me. My body had an instant reaction to the sight of him dressed in sweat-drenched workout clothes.

“Sorry, babe. I was in the gym.” Walking over to me, he bent his head the very slight distance to kiss my lips. “Fucking missed you, goddess.”

I kissed him back, but only for a second before stepping back and cocking a brow at the man behind the reception desk. “Am I on their list of approved guests now?”

Throat still bobbing, the guard nodded. “Yes, of course, Miss Cutter. There will be no further issues. My apologies.”

Turning my head, I glowered at Sparks. “Who is on the approved list?”

His lips tipped up with amusement. “As of right now, only you.”

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