Page 3 of Mic Drop

She sobs. “I have no choice.”

I pull her into my body. “You do. You always have options.” I kiss her crown, my hands skimming up and down her arms. Hers remain at her sides, while my torso gets wet from her tears. “Talk to me.”

“I have to return home. Ma needs me.”

Hermotherneeds her? She’s literally leaving me high and dry on the tour to run back to her mother? “She’s a grown-ass woman?—"

Eyes rounded, Jenna steps backward. “I need to be there for her.” Dragging her luggage behind her, she marches toward the door.

“What am I missing?”

Tears streaming down her face, she repeats her nonsensical words. “Nothing. Everything.” She inhales. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

She sets her chin. “I can’t. I just can’t.” Her chin trembles.

None of this makes any sense, least of which is the fact yet another woman—whom I told I loved—is leaving me. The callus around my heart, which had all but disappeared when I let Jenna into it, reforms twice as hard. Two can play this game. My hands formfists.

“Fine! Go home to your mommy!”

She sucks in her breath and scurries out of my hotel room.

Out of my life.

It’s as if she took all the air in the room with her. My legs fail me, and I sink onto the bed, my hand stroking my right thigh. Where she had massaged and iced and kissed. I pull away from the offending area.

How could I allow another woman to worm her way into my heart? Didn’t I learn my lesson ages ago from Lissa? From Mom before her?

My chest expands in shallow, rapid breaths.

Well, I don’t need her. I’ve done pretty damn fine without any encumbrances for the past decade, so why was I thinking of adding one now?

I bet if I go down to the bar and snap my fingers, I’d have three women vying for my attention. I could bring all three to this room and make them scream in pleasure. Jenna doesn’t own my sexual prowess.

I should do just that. Prove to her how little she means to me. The guys in the band will be happy to see me back in action, as they always hooked up without any trouble when I was on the scene. They’ll probably throw a party to welcome me back into the groupie set.

Why would Jenna want to go back to her mother anyway? What was she spouting about me preventing her from paying attention to what mattered? I never told her not to keep up with her mother—or friends, for that matter.

I stand and dress for the bar, taking special time to get my hair styled. My tight shirt is guaranteed to turn heads. I bet my extra scruff will add another chick to my arm.

Placing rings on all my fingers, an errant idea takes hold. What if Jenna’s there? With Tris? I shove a bracelet over my wrist. No. Fucking. Way. She better not be there, with Tris or any of my bandmates. Not if they want to keep their heads attached to their bodies.

Anger coursing through my bloodstream, I finish and check out my reflection in the hotel’s full-length mirror. I’m ready to prowl.

Four long strides take me toward the door. On the fifth, my groin muscle emits a protest so loud I’m sure the rest of the hotel could hear it. I crumple down, massaging the injured thigh. Perhaps I should listen to my body and stay in tonight? If Jenna’s there, Luke will text me.

Right?

My eyes slam shut. I need to take care of this injury on my own, since my physical therapist has gone AWOL. I know the drill. Who needs her anyway?

I’m better off without her.

Chapter 2

Jenna

Not even bothering to open the app for a car service, I race out of Bennett’s hotel room and slip into the waiting elevator. For once, I’m all alone, which gives my tears permission to stream down my cheeks unchecked.

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