Page 26 of Every Bite You Take
“Yeah.” I turned away and exhaled. “And clearly, I said no.”
“I sense there’s a ‘but’ coming.”
I nodded, my throat tightening with emotions I wasn’t sure I could express. “Yes.” In a smaller voice, I added, “Now that I’m back, I wonder if I made a terrible mistake.”
“You wish you stayed?”
“Right.”
“Huh,” she responded and was silent for several seconds. “Why did you say no?”
I pushed my hair out of my eye in frustration. “Because I can’t just up and leave my life.”
She blinked at me. “Why not?” She shrugged. “You’re young. Now’s the time to try new things. Visit new places.” She motioned around us. “Before you have things like mortgages and bills and deep roots.”
I huffed a breath. She was right. “Okay, but it’s more than that. I can’t just up and leave—for a guy.And for what? Another week onboard before it ends? I mean, he offered to pay for another week, but neither of us are rich.”
She pierced me with a probing look. “Were you at all tempted?”
“Of course I was. He’d mentioned a job and I wondered if they’d hire me to bartend. I know people who work on cruises work their asses off, but they also get to visit some spectacular places.” I turned one hand palm up and then the other. “You know, pluses and minuses.”
“So you wouldn’t necessarily be doing it for a guy then.”
“What do you mean?”
She motioned at me. “You’d be doing it foryou.”
The realization hit like an anchor being dropped overboard. All that wondering and yearning and that strange itch before I’d left. I’d found something. Too bad I’d thrown it away.
And ruined a chance for any future with Damien.
“You’re right, Gianna.” I exhaled with a low whoosh. “I blew it.”
CHAPTER 16
DAMIEN
Afew nights later, the energy on stage was electric, but not in a good way. The air crackled with animosity and the tension crawled up my spine. Caleb and Angus had gone at it again during practice and had almost come to blows before Van and I had stepped between them. Now during our set, Angus prowled ever closer to Caleb, his invasion of his space clearly meant as aggressive. Caleb shot eye daggers back as he smashed his drumsticks on the pads.
This was bullshit. Not the way to put on a show. When I’d joined this band, I didn’t think I was signing up for a grating ego fest. And with how much I missed Kylie, my patience was at an all-low.
We were halfway through the set, which was as uneasy as a vampire evading sunrise, when Angus snapped. He tosseddown his bass—which landed with a tragic thunk—and shouted, “Want to go, rockhead?”
Caleb barely got out from behind the drum set before Angus lunged at him. The crowd gasped in shock. No wonder. The band they’d come to see perform instead threw down a challenge like they were in a cage match. Van and I exchanged a not-entirely-surprised glance, then we jumped in to pry our bandmates apart.
I had the unfortunate task of trying to pull back Caleb. It wasn’t easy to move a heated, angry gargoyle, which was essentially like dragging a granite slab across the stage.
Van wrestled with Angus, who had the wiry strength of a caffeinated ferret.
“I swear to all things unholy,” Van muttered, “if you don’t cut this shit, I will stake you both as décor to the bow of this ship!”
“Caleb, back off,” I grunted out as I yanked him backward. When he didn’t flinch, I added his prized possession. “Before your drum kit ends up a casualty of war.”
He paused at that wakeup call and glanced back at his precious instrument.
Angus wiggled out of Van’s hold like a slippery eel. “Fuck this. And fuck all of you.” He motioned at each of us with a pointed finger. “I quit.”
The audience released a collective gasp.
