Page 1 of Tortured Tones

Chapter 1

COLE

It had beensix hours, thirty-two minutes, and twelve seconds since I’d read the letter that changed my life. Downing another mouthful of vodka straight from the bottle, I stared at the page lying on my coffee table. Bile mixed with the bucketload of booze swirled through my belly. The Christmas party nightmares and hazy memories that had haunted me for years had turned out to be real. But I’d never expected to land in a living hell.

I had a kid.

A three-year-old daughter. Charlotte.

Her mom was my best friend’s ex . . . Shelby.

But she’d been killed in a helicopter crash and named me as the biological father in her will. Blake, my band’s manager, had given me the notice from her lawyers last night after our gig.

She’d wanted me to take care of the child.

What the fuck?

I didn’t want a kid. I was too young. I loved being single. I was about to tour the globe with The Flintlocks. How the hell could I look after a toddler?

Was there any way out of this mess?

I needed my lawyer to perform a miracle.

I clutched the bottle to my chest and closed my eyes. Pain shot through my chest, sinking into the depths of my heart, stabbing it over and over again. I’d lived with my torment and demons for years. Burying them into the black recesses of my mind, ignoring them, had been for the best...to protect my friends, my family, my band, and our music. I’d been doing okay.

Coping.

Now . . . I wasn’t.

I’d fucked up too many people’s precious lives and had played my undeniable part in the death of two close friends—Phil and Aidan. How could I take on the responsibility of being a parent?

I wasn’t father material. I was no role model. I never would be.

I lived and breathed for my band. Flint, Slip and newcomer, Lewis, kept me sane, stopped me from drowning in guilt, and prevented me from spiraling into the depths of depression. Everyone had their own problems. I never wanted to burden them with mine.

I’d made some stupid mistakes during my time, lived with some heartbreaking regrets, and prayed they’d disappear with time—not land on my doorstep. Now I’d have to live with them for the rest of my life.

Fuck.

The doorbell rang. I didn’t move, opting for another mouthful of vodka instead. A few seconds later, the huge frosted-glass door swung open. In walked Flint, my best friend, and the lead singer and front man of our band.

I sucked in a deep breath. It shuddered through my chest. The concern and plethora of questions darkening his ice-blue eyes stirred the nausea gnawing in my gut. He ambled across the huge expanse of my foyer into the living area and sank onto the modular sofa beside me. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees. His black, long-on-top hair fell forward over one eye as he tilted his head toward me. “You look like shit.”

“Wouldn’t you be in the same situation?” I hadn’t been to bed since our gig at Hayley’s Bar last night. My mind wouldn’t stop racing.

“Probably.” He nodded, then stretched out his hand before him. His knuckles were red and raw. “I’m sorry for punching you.”

“I deserved it.” My cheek still ached from where he’d clobbered me after our show. Shelby’s death, and the news of her child, had shocked the shit out of everyone. Especially Flint. Adding in the fact I’d betrayed him. “Flint, I don’t know where to begin.” I fought the sting in my eyes. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you about that night. It’s killed me for so long.”

“I’m not gonna lie. It fucking hurts you didn’t tell me. You’ve been my best friend for sixteen years and can talk to me about anything. Anything.” He swiveled to face me. “I’m devasted that Shelby was killed. But what I can’t get my head around is this happened almost four years ago, right? Shelby and I weren’t together. I was dating Lena. Why did you keep this a secret?”

“We had the dibs rule, man.” My insides twisted and tightened. “She was your ex. We don’t touch each other’s girls, exes, or their friends. There’s always feelings and baggage. Shelby was a no-go zone.” After the ball-busting fight Flint got into with Phil—his now deceased brother—over Shelby in senior year, the rule had been made. It was our band’s bro code. I’d sworn to never break it. But...I had.

“But we weren’t dating.” Confusion edged into his tone. “Why couldn’t you tell me?”

Shame crept through my veins, seeping into every pore and sickening my stomach. I tightened my hold on the vodka and lowered my head. “Because I was never one hundred percent certain it happened. Not until Tia told me a couple of months ago. She saw the two of us...together.”

Flint pinched his brows, forming a deep groove between them. “You don’t remember being with Shelby?”

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