Page 36 of Fractured Rhythm

Chapter 9

Jamie:Why was the musician arrested?

Cassie:Where is this going?

Jamie:It’s a joke, Cas.

Cassie:Fine. Soo…

Jamie:He was in treble.

Cassie:That’s terrible.

Jamie:You mean trebible. Miss you, Cas.

Cassie:That’s even worse! Miss you, too.

CASSIE

I tossed thehalf-eaten pint of pistachio ice cream back in the freezer and grabbed a pint of cookies and cream. It was just after ten in the morning on Sunday. I’d bailed on brunch with Holly. This weekend had been rough, and today was going to be awful.

Two years. Over two years since I’d heard my brother’s voice. Although after Friday night’s reveal, I wanted to punch Jamie.

But he wasn’t here. Damn him. He deserved a punch in the face, and he wasn’t goddamn here. I choked back the sob with a glob of ice cream. I hated today. Grief had a way of wrapping her claws around you and digging in when you wanted to be free of it. I’d grieved for my brother. Hell, I’d probably started grieving when he was still alive.

I’d known about the drugs. I just hadn’t known how bad it’d gotten. Jamie was really good at hiding what was going on with a constant smile. It’d masked the pain I should’ve seen. That we all should’ve seen.

Part of me wanted to blame Bash. I’d pulled back from the band, only going to random shows here and there, and blaming it on school. Maybe if I’d been more present, I could’ve helped my brother.

It’s not like drugs had taken a hold of him once he was fully immersed in the rock-and-roll lifestyle. No, it’d started well before that. Being a rock star hadn’t made my brother a drug addict. No, that was my mother’s doing. She’d been a druggie—still was as far as I knew—and she’d introduced her own son to heroin.

Who the fuck does that? What parent does that? Pot, I guess I could understand, but heroin. Fucking heroin. It’d been a relief when she was finally out of our lives. It’d taken me a while to realize she’d left behind something to remind us of her—her drug-addicted sixteen-year-old son.

Jamie had gone through multiple rehab stints. He’d gotten clean and then fallen back into it. He’d been clean for over a year when he died. At least, that’s what he’d told me. When I thought about it, I hadn’t really seen him the six months before he died. They’d been on tour and I’d started full time at Scrumptious. But I should’ve been there. I should’ve made the time.

I shoveled in more ice cream. A brain freeze paled in comparison to the pain I felt for my brother. My phone buzzed on the coffee table in front of me. Jax had texted again, making sure I wasn’t drowning in ice cream. He, Tristan, and Holly had all texted me this morning to see how I was doing and if I wanted company. Part of me wanted to see them. I would have liked to at least been able to commiserate with Tristan and Jax, but I told them that all I wanted was to be by myself. It was easier that way. I didn’t want to see their concerned faces as I cried my heart out.

I hadn’t heard from my father—not that I expected to. He liked to pretend that this day didn’t exist. Hell, sometimes I wondered if he liked to pretend that Jamie hadn’t existed, since my brother had been a replica of my mom—especially when the drugs took over.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to hear from Bash. Ugh. I didn’t want to go there. I didn’t want to hope that he would reach out today. I was still so angry with him—with Jamie. How could they let me believe that Bash had cheated? That I wasn’t enough for him?

God, I hated that my brother had anything to do with it. And I hated that of all the days I could hate him, today was one of them.

After I left the bar, Holly had shown up at my door with ice cream and wine. I’d cried harder than I had in ages, trying to process what Bash had told me. I don’t know whose betrayal hurt more, his or my brother’s. I was still trying to figure that out.

The knock at my door startled the hell out of me, and I dropped the ice cream container, the spoon clattering on the glass surface of my coffee table.

I looked at my phone. No one had texted to say they were coming over, but maybe Jax had ignored my I’m okay texts and shown up anyway.

I looked down at myself. Sleep shirt and matching shorts, no bra, and hair that probably looked a fright. Well, that’s what he was getting. I walked over to the door and flung it open after the second knock.

“I told you I was…” I trailed off. “What are you doing here?” I demanded as Bash stood in front of me.

“Today is awful and I know you hate me more now than you probably did last week, but I come bearing pizza to go with the pistachio ice cream I’m sure you’re eating today. Not that pizza goes with it, but fuck.” He raked one hand through his hair, balancing the pizza box with the other hand. He looked frazzled when he met my gaze.

Good.

“Bash, I can’t do this with you today,” I said, shifting from one foot to the other. Dammit. I shouldn’t want him here. I definitely didn’t need him here.

---