Page 107 of Heartbreaker

Frustration hits me like hurricane-force winds, and I put my hands on my hips. “If you have something to say, go ahead and say it!” I snap, losing my temper.

He finally looks up, his face a mask of nothingness.

“Do you have any idea what a step down it is for me to go from the biggest rock band in the world to working on some country bumpkin-style album?”

I’m not sure how I’m supposed to respond to that, but in the moment, I’m equal parts heartbroken and furious. The woman falling in love with him can’t believe he would say something so hurtful, while the country music star who just won a huge award is about to tell him where to stuff it.

“Are you kidding me right now?” I demand.

I have and would put up with a lot because I think he’s worth it, but this hurts me in a way I can’t describe. If he doesn’t think my music is worthy, that’s his prerogative, but I refuse to be with a man who talks down to me.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to play an arena with a hundred and fifty thousand people screaming your name?” he asks quietly, fists clenched at his sides. “To be on the fucking top of the world and then have it all come crashing down? Your career, your marriage, your fucking ability to play music? Do you, Jade? Because if not, you can’t possibly understand what I’m going through.”

“No,” I respond tightly, fighting back tears that I truly don’t want him to see. “I don’t. And I hate everything that’s happened to you. But you don’t get to hurt all the people around you just because someone else hurt you. That’s beneath you. And I deserve better from you.”

“Why? Because we’re fucking or because I wrote you a song that finally put you on the map?”

Before I can stop myself, I reach out and slap him across the face.

There’s a long moment of startled silence. I’ve never slapped anyone in my life, and my first inclination is to apologize.

But he owes me one first.

“You didnotput me on the map,” I hiss, those blasted tears pushing their way to the surface no matter how hard I try to stop them. “I was a star long before your stupid song…” My voice is starting to break but I refuse to back down. “And you know what else? I’llstillbe a star when you go back to hiding behind your insecurities.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“And one more thing,” I say, swiping at the tears streaming down my face and throwing down the dish towel I’m still holding as I head for the bedroom to get my things. “Fuck you, Royal Ewing.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Royal

The call ringsonce and goes straight to voicemail.

Again.

“Fuck,” I mutter and toss my phone onto the kitchen island.

The same island I sat at while fucking up my life and hurting a person I love.

Again.

I sigh, shove a hand through my hair, resisting the urge to tear it from my scalp. It’s the least I deserve.

But Jade likes my hair.

“Christ.” I exhale and push off the stool, trying to find something to occupy my mind. I can’t even brood properly—every thought goes to Jade, to that awful conversation and the fucked up things I said and the way they made her eyes change, her expression shift, her shoulders slump, the curse word to slip from her mouth.

Idid that.

Hating myself, I grab a beer from the fridge, but when I go to take the bottle opener out of the drawer, I can’t help but think about Jade again.

She’d teased me about my bachelor kitchen as she looked for the right kind of measuring cup while baking me the best pumpkin bread I’ve had, hands down, in my life.

I slam the door shut, put the beer back.

But as I storm out into the hall, my eyes catch on the denim jacket hanging over the banister, bunched up at the bottom of the stairs and forgotten when Jade packed up her stuff and hauled ass out of here.

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