Page 139 of The Bridges I've Burned

Please say something.

But she didn’t. She just kept staring at me.

“Why don’t you all head to the parlor?” Molly suggested, motioning to one of the rooms off to the left.

Where the hell did she come from?

“I’ll have your things brought to the suite you reserved for the weekend. It’s where the family wing used to—never mind. You know that.”

“Thank you, Molly.” Marin gave her an appreciative smile.

We all shuffled into the same blue parlor I’d been pacing in earlier. Molly shut the door on her way out, which gave us some privacy. The curtains had been drawn closed, and several table lamps now gave the room a false sense of darkness. Macon and Marin took a seat on the love seat by the window while Elena took the wingback chair next to them, leaving the large sofa for me.

I tried not to look too much into that and opted to stand instead.

“Where do you want me to start?” I nervously ran my hands through my hair.

“The beginning would be good,” my brother answered harshly.

“Right.” I let out a breath. “Last year, I was asked to tour with Manic at Midnight after they lost their lead guitarist.”

“You mean that horrible guy that?—”

“Let him continue, Marin,” Macon said, taking her hand.

“It was supposed to be temporary—just until they finished the US leg of their tour. All my jobs are like that—or at least they were, and I liked it that way. I never wanted to be in just one band—especially not a famous one. But something just clicked with Manic, and before long, they approached me with the possibility of staying on permanently.”

“Holy shit, Zander,” Macon breathed out.

“I told them I had to think about it,” I explained.

“You had to think about it?” His eyes widened.

“As you can tell from the shitstorm outside, it’s not exactly like accepting a regular job. I had to make sure I was willing to deal with all the madness that came along with it.”

“So, when did you decide?” Marin asked as my gaze fell back on Elena.

Still so quiet.

“Right before I left for the engagement party.”

“And you never told us?” I could hear the pain in my brother’s voice.

“I couldn’t tell you,” I explained as I once again began to pace. “That thing I said at the cookout wasn’t bullshit. I’d signed an NDA. I couldn’t say shit. And it wasn’t like I had planned on sticking around.”

My brother looked away. We’d made amends, but the wounds of our separation were still there. Still fresh.

“So, the tour you’re doing in the fall?” Marin asked tentatively. “That will be with them?”

I nodded. “Their international tour. Six months, fifteen countries.”

“Shit, Zander.” My brother’s voice was filled with awe.

“I thought about telling you guys a dozen times regardless of the consequences. Especially when?—”

I looked over toward Elena.

She immediately looked away.

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