Page 31 of Bitter Beats

“I—” he starts to speak, but before he can get the words out, the bedroom door flings open, and we both jump.

I nearly fall again, tripping over my feet, but Mav’s hand darts out and wraps around my upper arm, keeping me in place.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Jameson, Mav’s brother, crowds the doorframe.

“You know?” Mav sounds horrified, but something keeps me in place.

I don’t want to witness his hurt. I don’t want to see his anguish. I don’t want to confront Mav falling apart.

It’s too deep. Too messy.

Too close to home.

Jameson rakes a hand through his hair, inky black and nothing like Mav’s. “It’s all over the news!” he bellows as if Mav is dense for even asking. “Derek’s getting on a plane.”

Mav groans.

“Levi’ll be here in a few,” Jameson adds.

Mav swears.

“Aiden, Jess, and Kimberly are on their way,” Jameson continues, talking over my head like I’m not even here.

I try to place those names with faces. I know Aiden—the band’s lawyer. And I’ve met Jess or Kimberly before too, although I can’t recall who. Behind me, Mav shifts. The hairs on my arms stand at attention, and my spine straightens, bristling from his agitation.

I can feel his tension shadowing my frame, and I hate it.

It’s confusing reacting to Mav this way.

“Hope Aid brings bagels,” Mav quips.

Disappointment blooms in Jameson’s expression, and he shakes his head at his little brother.

“It was a joke,” Mav mutters.

“You’ve got nothing to joke about,” Jameson reminds him. “You fucked?—”

I wince at the word.

Mav’s knuckles run along the back of my arm, my elbow.

“It was a mistake,” he cuts in.

“That she’s married?” Jameson taunts.

I wince and lean away from Mav. My body is so tight I feel like I could snap. Break.

My chest tightens, and something pulls in my stomach, like purse strings drawing together, until my organs feel choked.

I try to swallow, but my throat is dry. I clear my throat instead.

“Hope you didn’t fuck him, Kenny,” Jameson points at me before turning narrowed eyes on his brother. “But we all knowKenny has too much damn sense—some fucking self-respect—to do something that stupid.”

I roll my lips together. Half of me wants to defend Mav, which makes no sense. And the other half of me wants to demand who the woman is. As if it would matter. Haven’t I heard his headboard hitting my bedroom wall enough times, enough nights in a row, to know that Mav’s got no issues going from one woman to the next? He acts first and thinks later. Hell, sometimes, like now, I wonder if he thinks at all.

Mav doesn’t say anything, and I sigh. Moving to my desk chair, I pick up a sweater and pull it on. I don’t need to give Jameson a show along with Mav. “So, the husband’s pissed?” I guess, trying to sound chill. Blasé.

Trying to sound like I don’t care that Mav hooked up with a married woman last night while I slept in the bedroom next to his and cried myself to sleep.

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