Page 45 of Broken Instrument

After a few seconds, I murmur, “Yeah, Fen. I would love him no matter what.” I reach for his hand hanging limply at his side and squeeze softly. “Do you want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because his addiction doesn’t make him who he is. He is who he is in spite of his addiction. That’s why I love him.”

With a subtle nod, he turns on his heel, heading toward the parking area but stops and turns back around.

“Hey, Hadley?”

“Yeah?”

“I have another show next week at SeaBird. Do you want to come?”

My smile is soft as I lean against the doorjamb and fold my arms. “I’d love to.”

“See you then.”

16

FENDER

As I walk to my car, my phone rings in my pocket, and I pull it out. It’s an unknown number.

Cautiously, I answer it, bringing my phone to my ear when a familiar voice crackles through the speaker.

“Hey, brother.”

My brows furrow, and I recheck the number to confirm I’m not going crazy. “Did you change your number, Marty?”

“Nah, but I am calling from my buddy’s cell since I figured you wouldn’t answer if I called from my own.”

Of course, he did.

After folding myself into the car and starting the ignition, I scratch Pixie behind the ear while she attacks me with licks from the backseat. I let out a sigh and face the inevitable, knowing if I hang up on the asshole, he’ll only call again. “What do you want, Marty?”

“I want to know why you didn’t tell me about your little concert at SeaBird. First, the one where Hawthorne offered you a deal, and now tonight. Should I be offended?”

I pause as the hair along the back of my neck stands on end. “How’d you know about Hawthorne?”

“A little bird told me. Speaking of telling me things, I think you and I should have a little chat.”

“We have nothing to talk about,” I remind him. Hell, I’m reminding us both. But after tonight, and my conversation with Mia, I’m more determined than ever to stay clean. And in order to do it, I need to keep the hell away from Marty.

Shifting my cell to my other ear, I growl, “Does Dad know you’re calling me?”

“Dad and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms. Not after he cut me off. Although, from what I understand, you and Daddy Dearest aren’t exactly on speaking terms, either.”

He’s right. I haven’t spoken to Donny Hayes since I was released. I haven’t really talked to anyone since I was released, but that’s beside the point.

“What are you getting at?” I ask, exasperated.

“I’m just saying I have a feeling you’ll keep this little conversation between you and me instead of running to Daddy Dearest. That’s all.”

“And on that note, I’m hanging up––”

“Wait.” His tone is cold. Lethal. And brooks no argument.

And because his broken baby brother is curious, I wait for him to finish whatever the hell he wants to say.

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