Page 68 of Not Your Little Girl Anymore

“You’ve fucking changed, man,” James implies.

Maybe I have, but is that such a bad thing?

Ignoring him, silence fills the room. It’s tense. But after a hot minute, Samantha lets out an aggravating sigh. “All right. Can we at least practice for Tale’s Gate since there are no other shows scheduled? Can we at least focus on that?”

I don’t want to practice, but who am I to disagree with the logic of what we should do?

James’s mouth forms a thin line, nodding but he doesn’t remove his eyes from me. Samantha looks at Tyler, waiting for his approval; it doesn’t take long for him to agree. She then stares at me, her lips pursed and eyes as sharp as a dagger.

Running my thumb across my jaw, I nod. “How about we add a couple of new songs?” I suggest.

With how much of a loss we took for not going to Denverson, pitching a couple of new songs isn’t a terrible idea.

Sam’s eyes widened. “Are you serious? Tale’s Gates is in two weeks,” she states, but I ignore her initiation and move toward a stack of papers I placed on the music stand when I came into the studio.

“Look, they’re good. Can you just look over them?”

James plops down on the wooden stool I was just sitting on, casually propping one foot on the footrest. I hand him a sheet first, and he looks over it carefully. The expression he holds gives me enough to go on; it’s clear that he’s not opposed to this idea.

“Given Alec’s fuck up, this might actually work,” he says.

Ignoring the dramatic eye roll Samantha directed toward James, a smile forms upward on my mouth. I pass Tyler a sheet next to Samantha, giving them time to review the new songs.

Samantha looks at me, her brown eyebrows arched. “You really think we can pull this off?”

A snarky smirk forms. “Have you met me?”

“Unfortunately.”

I don’t miss the dramatic tone. It has me chuckling, and then Sam smiles, always agreeing to whatever I have in mind despite her agitated state.

Looking at Tyler, I nudge my head. “What do you say, Ty?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “You know I’m down for anything. These lyrics may just be the best you’ve written.”

My hands clap together with a loud smack. “Great. Let’s start then.”

As we all take our positions, I meticulously begin tuning my guitar, ensuring that each string produces a harmonious sound. James follows suit, making adjustments to his bass. Meanwhile, Tyler twirls his drumsticks between his fingers, confidently stepping on the bass pedal.

Each note is perfect, filling the studio with a beautiful sound and drowning out my internal thoughts. Satisfaction waved through at how the guys picked up the new song on cue. That’s what makes us so good at what we do.

We stop playing as the door flings open, slamming into the wall with a loud clatter.

“Alec Sokolov. You cold-blooded fucking liar!”

Our heads dart to the door, my eyes narrowing. My chest tightens the moment my eyes land on Summer’s red-rimmed eyes. Instinctively, I swing the strap to my guitar over my shoulder and place my guitar on the stand.

“Summer…” I walk toward her, but she raises her hand to stop me from moving closer and cuts me off.

“Don’t,” she scoffs. “So, what was this between us? Was it all a part of a conniving little scheme? Oh, let’s win the cop’s daughter’s heart to have your charges dropped? You fucking used me.”

I was dreading this moment. Sadness sneaks in, taking over everything else I’ve felt today. She wasn’t supposed to find out this way.

Her chest rises. Tears stream down her face, leaving it wet and puffy. Mascara smudges her under the eyes. My heart drops into my stomach. The words rip right through me, cutting me open like a knife.

“Oh, let’s not forget lying about fucking her.” She points to Samantha with a disgusted look on her face.

“Now, wait a minute.” Samantha steps forward to intervene, but I grab her arm, stopping her.

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