Page 23 of Resist

I head past them and pour myself a coffee, but Dash and Strike return to their conversation. Fox smiles softly as he thumbs out a text, and my eyes narrow in annoyance. Doesn’t he care about why I acted the way I did last night?

He would have before.

I’m pissed that he won’t even look at me.

“Who are you texting?” I ask, but it comes out as a sharp command. Strike and Dash stop talking, but I can’t look away from Fox. He doesn’t even glance at me, just totally ignores me like I didn’t even speak, and I hate it.

I want his eyes on me.

I want all his attention on me.

Narrowing my eyes, I put my mug down and step closer to his back. He’s completely oblivious as he types a message, and I see the name Team at the top. Yanking his phone from his grip, I dance out of his reach as he pushes to his feet, his narrowed eyes now on me.

Finally, I can breathe again.

“Give it back, Ryker,” he orders, his hand outstretched.

“Nope.” He chases me around the table, so I climb on top of it as he grabs me to tug me down. Holding it above my head, I start to read the messages.

“Team? Who’s Team? Stupid fucking name. What is he, a sport?” I scoff. “I agree, you looked so strong last night carrying your bandmate out of there.” I glance down at Fox, my heart lodged in my throat before I breathe around it. “Is this your friend from last night?” I taunt cruelly as I scroll up. “‘Fox, I wish you came home with me.’ Wow, he doesn’t have much game, but I suppose it doesn’t matter who you fuck though. I thought you had better taste.” I laugh, and he releases me, but I carry on.

“‘We should meet up sometime and finish what we started,’” I scoff even as my heart aches, and my hand clenches the phone firmly enough to crush it.

“Ryker, stop it,” Fox demands, but I ignore him, starting to type a message back.

“Ryker, enough!” Strike roars, and my gaze swings to him in shock, my hand dropping. “You are being a cruel asshole.”

My mouth drops open as even Dash looks at me in disgust. Fox snatches his phone back, throwing me a hurt glare, and then he storms from the room. I watch him go, knowing I need to go after him, but when I hop down from the table, Strike and Dash block my path, their arms crossed and eyes tight.

“We need to talk,” Strike snaps.

“Sure, later.” I go to step past him and blow out an irritated breath when they move with me, blocking me. “What? Want me to apologize to him? Fine, I will. I was just having some fun.”

“That’s your problem. You’re always having fun,” Strike snaps.

Dash lays a hand on his arm to cool him down as he looks at me sadly. “You don’t understand that your fun hurts him. He’s your bandmate, your friend, Ryker, so why are you acting like this and treating him like shit?”

“Me? Treating him like shit? Since when?” I retort.

“Since we got the fucking deal. You’re either using him and tossing him aside or leading him by the fucking collar. He can’t catch a break. No wonder he’s confused and pulling away. I don’t think you even know what you’re doing, but this act? It has to fucking stop before you lose all of us.”

“It isn’t fair, Ry,” Strike says sadly. “You’re making him miserable.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” I hedge.

“Yes, you do,” Strike retorts, eyeing me like he sees right through me. Has he always known? Does everyone? “Don’t play games with him. Just leave him alone and let him move on.”

I stiffen, eyeing them both, wondering what they know.

“What if I don’t want to?” I snap, tilting my chin up. “Fox is mine. He’s my guitarist?—”

“He isn’t yours,” Strike argues. “You made that clear, which means you need to let him go and let him move on. If this . . . show between you two starts to affect his mental health, then Iwill put a stop to it, and I mean it. It isn’t fair, and it isn’t fun for him anymore. It’s work, a chore, and it hurts him. Fox is my friend?—”

“And I’m not?” I whisper, hurt.

“Not recently,” Strike snaps. “You’re never here, and when you are, it’s to make a mess Fox has to clean up. If you want to be our friend again, then start fucking acting like one and stop hurting us.” Strike storms away, and Dash watches him go before eyeing me dejectedly.

“He’s right, Ry. If you keep this up, you’ll ruin us. There won’t be a band left. We’ll crash and burn before we even begin. We can’t do this without you, but we need Fox as well, and right now, you’re pushing him away over and over, and at some point, he’s just not going to come back.” He moves past me and shakes his head in disappointment.

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