Page 50 of The Chance

Roars past when the stranger leans in, presses a kiss to the Mac’s cheek, and takes the drumsticks from his hands.

And Mac lets him.

He never lets anyone but the road crew touch his drums, and yet—

Mac let him.

And now the stranger is sitting where my drummer is supposed to be, smacking out sounds that don’t feel right, and I’m just …

Sinking.

Stepping backward.

Holy shit, what am I doing?

Turning away from the smile that laces my dreams.

He never neededme.

And running like my life depends on it.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Jordan

Three grand in changefees.

The unforgiving plastic beneath my ass creaks with each bounce of my leg.

Another eighteen hours before I’m home.

I swipe my palms down my pant leg.

Why does this hurt so bad?

Licking my dry lips, I clear my throat. Tip off my hat and slap it onto my knee.

He didn’t ask me to come.

My jaw clenches at how wrong I’ve been. How wrong I am.

These feelings, big and raw, grow with each passing moment that I sit in this airport, my ticket home like a burning coal in my pocket.

With a last-ditch effort to prove that shitty side of my brain correct, I pull out my phone.

He didn’t need me.

It takes three tries to get it unlocked with the shake in my hands.

As Above’s accounts are the first to pop up in the highlights of each social media platform I’m on.

And each one is like a finger digging into my chest, breaking skin, wiggling through bone. Each picture of Mac with someone else a successful stab. Every caption and comment an eradication of what once was. Overlayed by what now is.

Mac and Dare.

As Above and Banger together. The addition of Dare as Mac’s touring backup.

The rivals to friends story of a lifetime.

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