Page 89 of Broken Instrument

“Hads––”

“It’s all Bud ever gave me. Explanations. He had an excuse for everything, Fender. Everything,” I cry out, feeling like the ground is falling from beneath me. “And it might not’ve been what killed him, but in a way, it still was. Because if he hadn’t met Marty, if he hadn’t made a deal with the devil himself and gotten into debt in order to pay for his stupid addiction, he would still be here today. He’d be able to see Mia graduate. He’d be able to come over for Christmas dinner. He would be here if it weren’t for this.” I grab the bag of pills and shove them into Fender’s chest.

“They aren’t mine, Hadley.”

I laugh, not bothering to wipe away the tears from spilling down my cheeks. “Bullshit.”

“I’m serious, okay? I’d forgotten they were even in there. I confiscated them from Mia that one night. Remember? When I dropped her off at your place?” He grabs my face, his thumbs rubbing against my damp cheeks, desperate to wipe away my tears and my pain, but it’s too late.

“You kept them for a reason, Fen. You might not want to believe it. Bud never wanted to believe it either, but you could’ve thrown them away. Instead, you tucked them into this bottle for a rainy day. And if you can’t admit that, I don’t know how you can expect me to stay. I’m not going to watch someone else I love succumb to this.” I cover my mouth, dizzy as my world is torn apart. Again. “I thought you were stronger than that.”

“Hads––”

I push myself to my feet and head back to Fender’s bedroom, throwing the last few items strewn across the bed into my duffle bag and zipping it furiously. A piece of fabric catches in the zipper’s teeth, but I yank at the tiny piece of metal even harder until it shuts fully.

Fender follows me, desperation painted across his stricken features as if I’ve cut him. But it isn’t fair. Because he cut me first. He made me fall for him. He promised he was done with this. But if that were true, I wouldn’t have found the damn plastic bag hidden away for safekeeping.

“Hadley,” he pleads, his footsteps pounding behind me as I take the stairs two at a time.

I gotta get out of here.

“Please,” he begs, reaching for my arm at the base of the steps and twisting me around until we’re face to face. He looks so hurt. So broken. And I hate how I’m the one who’s hurting him. But I can’t stay, either. I can’t go through this again. He has to see that.

“You’re right,” he rasps and puts himself between me and the front door, blocking my exit. “You’re right. I should’ve tossed them. I should’ve gotten rid of them when I first confiscated them from Mia. I was weak. But I promise I’m telling the truth when I say I’m done. I don’t even crave that shit anymore. Not like I used to. All I crave is you. All I need is you, Hadley. I need you so much. Please––”

“I gotta go, Fen.” I go to squeeze past him, but he steps in my way.

“Don’t leave. Please, Hads.”

“I need to get out of here.”

“What about the tour?”

“I’m not going on tour. Not anymore.”

“Fine, I’ll stay too. I’ll stay, and we can work this out.”

“I don’t want you to stay, Fender,” I snap. “I want you to go. I want you to leave me alone and let me go. Because this? This can’t work. Not when it hits too close to home.”

And I walk away, my heart breaking with every step.

31

HADLEY

“I’m going to miss this place,” Mia says. She’s sitting cross-legged on the bed in my spare room. The one she claimed as her own anytime Isabella would ask if I could watch her. It’s funny. How far we’ve come. How much she doesn’t hate me anymore. I still don’t know what Fender said to her when he found her. I didn’t feel like it was my place to pry, but whatever it was, it helped. It gave Mia the answers, comfort, determination––whatever it was––to finally let someone in. A lot of someones, actually. And even though she’s far from better and will probably have abandonment issues for potentially the rest of her life, she’s trying.

For now, anyway.

And if I’ve learned anything from my time with Fender, it’s trying is one of the first steps in getting the help you need and succeeding in fixing your problems.

If only it were enough to save my relationship with him.

Then again, part of me wonders if our relationship was doomed from the start.

I’d said I’d needed a distraction, not the baggage that came along with loving another person with an addiction.

Which is selfish, I know, but…it’s hard. Loving someone with an addiction. Hell, it’s almost impossible sometimes, but I think I could’ve handled it if it weren’t for Bud. For everything he put me through. For everything he went through. And for his final decisions, which led him to the point of no return.

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