Page 62 of Aria

“I also know you’re great at withholding information, so you’re not off the hook that easily,” I’d replied.

She’d offered a smile that hadn’t quite reached her eyes, but I’d decided not to probe any further. I knew that Chelsie might be able to keep secrets from her boyfriend… but she always came around with me.

“Imma head out,” Miles said, throwing his bass over his shoulder. “See you fuckers there.”

I nodded as my phone vibrated in my pocket. Unlocking the screen, I was greeted with a selfie of Chelsie and Sam. My son was holding up a piece of paper that said,“Have fun, Dad!”and Chelsie was giving a thumbs-up. A grin stretched as I stared at the photo.

Damn.She fit into our lives so perfectly.

It was a short drive to the local dive bar called Ernie’s, where our celebrity status generally went unnoticed by fellow patrons. There was the occasional swooning fan, and plenty of “they look familiar” whispers—but, for the most part, we could enjoy our drinks in peace.

“Four shots of Blue Label, honey,” Miles said to the bleached blonde server as he leaned over the bar. I scowled at my band member’s complete lack of respect toward his girlfriend. Miles was a dog, and he wasn’t very good at hiding it. I was surprised Lisa even tolerated his antics, considering what a straight-edged woman she was.

“Noah Hayes?”

Ah, shit.I was in no mood to cater to the fans tonight. All I wanted to do was drink my whiskey, share a few laughs, and get the hell out. Pivoting toward the bubbly voice, I came face-to-face with a posse of young girls in low-cut blouses.

“I’ll do a quick autograph,” I said as politely as I could. The girls danced around while they pulled out their cell phones and tried to capture selfies.

“Have a good night, girls. Don’t drink and drive.”

“Thanks, Noah!”

“Marry me!”

With a jaded sigh, I joined my friends at one of the high-top tables. “Jesus, Dev, are you trying to out-drink the whiskey master?” I teased, noting three empty shot glasses in front of Devon.

Devon looked up with surprise. It was the first amiable thing I had said to him all week. His eyes narrowed before he looked back down at his beer. “I didn’t know it was a competition,” he said stiffly.

The subtle parallel did not go unnoticed. What also did not go unnoticed was Devon’s sudden interest in alcohol. He had always been the “professional” one in the band—he’d been rigorous about doing things by the book and not letting any vices get in the way of our music.

Drugs and alcohol were two things Devon had stayed away from over the years. He was the onewelooked up to.

Now, Devon was drinking heavily almost every night. He was getting stoned on a regular basis. He was forgetting lines, singing out of key, and losing his temper with the guys at every practice. “What the hell is going on with you lately?” I couldn’t help the question from spilling out of me. I wanted answers.

“What the fuck do you mean?” Devon leaned back in his chair, rocking on its rear legs.

“The drinking. The pot. The shit attitude.”

Devon scoffed at the accusations. “I’ve spent my whole life being a do-gooder. It’s time to stop being a pussy and actually enjoy myself.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I argued. “You can enjoy yourself without getting inebriated every night and treating us like crap.”

I knew enough about Devon to know he had always felt the need to stand out. Growing up with four brothers had given him a competitive drive unlike the average person. When we’d been in sports together, Devon needed to be the one to score the most goals and rack up the most points. When his older brother became an auto mechanic, Devon needed to become abetterauto mechanic. When we had started the band, simply playing local shows wasn’t good enough. Devon needed his name in lights.

He had gotten his way, as he always had. He had fame, money, and the perfect woman on his arm. He had it all.

Where does someone go when they’re already at the top?

They fall.

Devon ran a hand through his mess of sandy hair. “Get off my back, Hayes.”

“I’m just trying to help you.”

“Don’t need your help,” Devon said. “If you want to help, you can stop sniffing after my girl.”

My hackles rose.

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