Page 81 of Bitter Rival

I feel guilty for wanting more when I already have so much—a career that feeds my passion, my own apartment, and my independence.

I’m a free spirit who can pick up and go at the drop of a hat.

And isn’t that exactly what I’ve always wanted?

So why does it make me feel empty whenever I think about returning to my old life? My real life. The life I was perfectly happy with before I came to Sutton Ridge. Before I moved back into the only house that has ever really felt like a home and started living with the man who was once the boy I loved with all my heart.

My ringing phone jolts me out of my reverie, and I dig it out of my backpack and check the screen. Finn.

I silence the call but stare at my phone, gnawing on my lip. My gut is telling me something is wrong. I never heard back from him after I called and texted last month, asking for the rent money. He never transferred the money, but I don’t know why I ever thought he would. He’s never been reliable.

“Do you need to get that?”

I let out a breath and shake my head. “No. It’s fine.”

“You don’t sound like it’s fine.” He makes “fine” sound like a dirty word. Like he resents its very existence and would delete it from the dictionary if his last name was Merriam or Webster.

A message pops up just as I’m about to stash my phone into my bag. Hey Dais, sorry about the money. Do you still need it? I was out in LA. Fucking Asher replaced me. Went and got a new drummer behind my back.

Another text appears on the heels of that one. I’m down in Cabo. Any chance you can meet me down here? Miss you.

Jesus, Finn.

How could he get himself kicked out of the band? But, of course, he did. Why am I even questioning this? John Finnegan is the king of self-sabotage.

I rub my fingers against my temples, trying to figure out how to salvage this for him.

Finn needs this.

Should I call Asher and try to sort it out? Beg and plead until he gives Finn another chance?

Asher can be prickly, but we’ve always gotten along, and maybe he’d listen to me. It’s worth a shot.

I pull up his contact information but then I stop myself.

Why is Finn in Cabo instead of trying to repair the damage he’s done?

This is typical Finn behavior and now that I think about it, this must have been why he needed a place to stay.

He was obviously having problems with his bandmates, but instead of dealing with it, he flew back to New York, accidentally overdosed, and stayed in my apartment rent-free.

He couldn’t cough up the rent money, but he managed to get himself to fucking Cabo.

Finn needs to start taking responsibility for his actions and fix this for himself. I can’t keep cleaning up his messes.

Decision made, I stash my phone in my bag without responding and give myself a mental pat on the back.

Anna would be so proud of me.

“So, who’s Finn?” Beckett asks a few moments later. “Is that the boyfriend you were talking about?” He sounds casual enough, but the muscle in his jaw flexes, and I can practically feel the tension rolling off him.

I don’t know if it’s jealousy or something else. “He’s my ex-boyfriend.”

I can feel my phone vibrating in my bag but I’m going to stay strong. I’m not going to check it. And I’m not going to worry about him.

“Does he know he’s your ex-boyfriend?”

“He knows. But we’re still friends.” I don’t even know if that’s the right word for what we are. According to the therapist I went to after we broke up, Finn and I are codependent, and by continuing to enable him, I’m not doing either of us a favor, so I need to break the cycle.

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