Page 77 of Broken Instrument

“Right now?”

“The guys downstairs can wait for a few more minutes. He misses you.”

With a quick look toward the half-open door, I let out another sigh and flip my phone into the air, but I don’t unlock it as another wave of guilt washes through me. “Listen, about you and Dad reconnecting. I’m sorry about what I said the other night. I was wrong. And I think it’s good. You and Dad. I shouldn’t have been jealous.”

“We wouldn’t have reconnected if it weren’t for you,” he reminds me. “But you were right. Dad’s changed. He’s not the asshole I’d pegged him for, and I never would’ve given him another chance if you hadn’t convinced me to. As for the jealousy bullshit? You gotta let it go. Dad misses you. He’s been giving you space because he knows it’s what you need, but I can’t replace you, Fen. Not in Broken Vows, and not in Dad’s life, either. Call him.” He pushes to his feet and heads toward the door. “And when you’re finished, come downstairs and grab some pizza. The guys and Dove miss you too.” He closes the door behind him, blanketing the room in silence. I unlock my phone and settle back against the side of Gibson’s bed.

He’s right. I need to stop ignoring all of my past relationships out of fear of rejection or disappointing them again. They’re my family, blood or not.

Apparently, it’s time to make a call.

26

HADLEY

The next few weeks go by in a blur. I’ve been preparing for Fender’s concert, which includes clothes shopping and a salon appointment, but I haven’t heard a word from the police as to whether or not they have any new information on Bud. It’s disappointing, but I’m trying to stay distracted, and getting ready for my little trip with Fender has been an excellent one.

Things have been great between Fen and me. He even managed to smooth things over between him, Sonny, and his bandmates. And I’ve never seen him happier. We still haven’t had sex. I think he’s terrified to take the step, even though we’ve done everything else under the sun. But it’s been good. We’ve still been intimate––both sexually and emotionally––and I couldn’t ask for anything more.

We spend our days at his place, thanks to Pixie and my insane landlord, but it’s been nice. His roommates are great. Both Dove and Maddie are awesome, along with Jake’s girlfriend, Evie. And even Mia’s been hanging in there. She’s hurting and anxious about the lack of information where her father’s concerned, but Isabella found her a therapist, and she’s been getting the help she needs. Well, that, and she’s been taking extra runs with Pix after school ever since Isabella gave back her car keys.

Now, if only I could get these stupid nerves to stop assaulting my stomach as I curl my hair in the hotel room, that would be great. We flew out yesterday and spent the night in LA, getting ready for the charity concert.

Tonight’s the night, and I’m kind of freaking out, though I have no idea why. It’s not like I’m the one who has to be on stage or anything. Maybe it’s because Maddie and Milo are watching Pixie at home, so Fender won’t have his cheerleader on stage with him tonight. Or maybe it’s the fact I know I’m going to be exposed to an entirely different side of Fender’s life this evening. One I’m not quite sure I fit into. And I’m scared it’ll rock the boat. Thankfully, Dove and Gibson will be with me to cheer him on, and I’m grateful for them. A familiar face or two is exactly what I need.

“You ready?” Fen calls through the closed door.

“Working on it.”

The door opens a few inches, and I catch Fen smiling at me through the mirror.

“Damn, Hads. You look…” He steps inside and grabs my hips, pinning my back to his front as he checks out my reflection.

“Yes?” I prod.

With a soft, warm kiss to the side of my neck, he finishes, “Edible.”

I laugh and put the straightener down, twisting in his arms. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” His soft gray T-shirt hugs his biceps and leaves his arms bare, showcasing Milo’s fancy tattoo work, but he looks…edible. Fen was right. It’s the perfect word choice.

I bite my lip then press a quick kiss to his mouth.

“You nervous?” I ask.

“Just trying to keep the right perspective.”

“Any cravings?”

He’s opened up to me over the past few weeks, giving me insight as to what his triggers are and when he would succumb to his addiction on tour. He’s even given me warning signs to watch out for. Not that he needs a babysitter, but he recognizes his own weaknesses and knows I can be strong for him when he can’t.

The responsibility is staggering, though. But so is his trust. And I won’t ever break it. Even if it is a little intimidating. After all, Bud’s my brother. I knew him before he fell down the rabbit hole of drugs and addiction. I knew him after. I saw how much it took its toll, whether he was on or off the wagon. It was a rollercoaster, and I’m not going to lie to myself and say I’m not terrified falling for Fender will lead me down the same path of heartbreak and disappointment.

One mistake. One slip up, and I’m gone. I’m not sure I can handle anything else. But it’s a promise I’ve made to myself, one I’ve refused to admit to Fender. Not because I’m trying to keep it from him, but because I know he doesn’t need the added pressure. I know he already puts too much of it on himself. And I know it’ll only hurt him in the end if he realizes my feelings for him might be unconditional, but my self-preservation isn’t.

I don’t say any of it, though, as I turn around and continue doing my hair while carefully assessing his reflection in the mirror. He looks relatively calm. Not too jittery. Seems focused. Nervous but happy. He’s okay.

“I haven’t been craving anything but you,” he quips, kissing my temple. “I’ll let you finish getting ready. We should head over to the arena in twenty. Will you be ready by then?”

“Yup. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

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