Page 139 of Second Sets Omnibus
“You’ve got this,” Zepp mumbles with reassurance. “We’ll give you a raise after this.”
“Much deserved,” I quip, shaking my head when Kieran storms away.
“Miss West!” Kat, my assistant, comes rushing in with a grim expression on her lips.
“Kat, call me River. Miss sounds way too damn formal,” I grumble, noting the pale expression she’s wearing.
“River,” she murmurs softly, leaning in. “It happened again.” My heart fucking drops into my ass, and I numbly nod.
“Um, thanks for that… I’ll deal with it.” Something seriously has to give. First them, now this shit. How much more can I suffer through in one day? Ugh.
“Okay. I need to…” She motions out the door, and I dismiss her with a wave of my hand.
“Is she doing okay?” Zepp asks, watching her retreating form.
“As good as she’ll get,” I say with a shrug. “Still needs some improvements, but she’ll get there.”
“There you fuckers are!” Chase chides, walking into the tiny room with his arm around their wife, Kaycee. Her brows dip as she looks me over, examining my ruffled expression. But before she can speak, Chase interrupts with his usual cheerful disposition, dipped with concern. “What did you do to Little West?” Chase asks with a frown, eyeing my face and heaving chest.
“Not now,” Seger gripes, running a hand down his face. “We’ll explain later.”
Waving a hand, I shake off the doom sitting on my shoulders and plaster on my best fake smile. “Nothing. I’m fine. Just a hard job ahead.” Hard is the understatement of the fucking century. “I’ll run and get Lyric from the daycare and meet you in the lobby?” Kaycee nods, brows furrowing like she wants to ask what’s wrong, but decides against it.
“Okay,” she says with a tight smile. As I walk past her, she grabs my elbow and stops me. “Something is off. We’ll talk about this later, right? Maybe a girl's night?” She examines my face when I nod, promising to fill her in later over a glass of wine. Scratch that; make it four glasses.
With that, still clutching their files to my chest, I make my way through the large skyscraper and head to the daycare to get Lyric the hell out of this building without being noticed.
My heart dropsinto my ass when the ghost of my fucked up past strolls into the room with her head held high and stops right before us.What the hell is she doing here? In our domain?
Determination lines her sharp face, not giving any indication our presence affects her. No heavy breaths. No tears. There’s nothing hiding behind the face of the girl I purposely screwed over and forced my best friends to leave behind.
Shit.
Pain spreads across my chest as the repressed memories I locked away long ago flood back into my mind, released from the confined space I shoved them into. Everything about River I’ve blocked and purposefully forgot about her. Our time together. The moments I spent between her luscious legs and shared with my bandmates. She went so far to help us get here, and then, I shit all over her existence. Imploding everything she’d built by one single lie I had orchestrated.
How has she been? Why is she here? How bad did I fucking break her with my betrayal because I was so damn desperate to get away?
Familiar pangs of guilt churn in my gut, and burning bile rises in my throat. I’ve avoided everything River West for the past five years. I never sought her out.
Out of sight. Out of mind.
Besides, there was no trace of her anywhere, with all her social media accounts shut down after we left. For me, it was a godsend. I didn’t have to look at my mistake head-on and acknowledge the fact I fucked up. My refusal to think about her had me locking my memories away behind several heavy doors in my mind. My survival on this planet relies on her nonexistence. And today, I’m coming face to face with the karma I deserve by seeing her again.
Goddamn. What did I fucking do? Sometimes I don’t understand myself. But if there’s one thing for certain, it’s that I’m not worthy to be in her presence. Kick my ass and lock me away, it’s the least I fucking deserve for the vile actions I perpetrated against her.
Eyeing her up and down and taking in her appearance is its own form of torture. My heart pounds double time. My fingers fucking tremble around the arms of the chair. Staring at her is like looking too hard at the sun, and I’m bound to be burned. Not that I don’t fucking deserve it. I deserve every ounce of ire this woman has, even if she doesn’t know what I did. No one does except Gloria. Not a soul. Not even the men around me. I intended to purge my sins and confess them when we were famous, and she was long gone, but the words never left my tongue. I couldn’t—wouldn’t. We were good for so long, and then, we weren’t.
River’s long, brown hair remains the same as it always had, hanging past her shoulders. Only now, it seems smoother andmore professional, framing the edges of her filled-out face. No longer does she look like the poor girl from Central City, barely eating and running herself ragged. She’s filled out and looks healthier than I’ve ever seen her. More defined curves fill out the professional black pantsuit, highlighting just how much she’s grown up.
Something beneath the surface of her calls to me again, much like it used to. River is a siren standing in a room full of sailors, begging them to come to her. Her aura hasn’t changed one bit. I shift in my seat, determined to, once again, not heed her call.
“Hello, boys. My name is River West, and I’m your new band manager. Congratulations,” she says, cocking her head.
I swallow the lump in my throat when all the oxygen leaves and suffocates me. Her voice drifts through the room with authority. Together, Callum, Kieran, Rad, and I sit like statues waiting for her to speak again. Every agonizing minute she stands there in silence, watching us with an eagle eye, is torture.
Her inspecting moss-green eyes take in the changes each of us has experienced in the past few years of a harsh rock star lifestyle. We’re rougher. Maybe edgier from our time in the spotlight, entertaining millions, but yet, slightly more damaged than before. I always thought if I removed myself from the beast roaming the halls of my home, I’d heal the demons darkening my soul inside me. Boy, how wrong I was.
A new demon followed me around, relentlessly taunting me. Guilt. Over the years, I’ve tried to lock everything away in a small box and forget my transgressions. Who could forget, though? I never realized what I had, until it was gone. It was too late. Now, everywhere I look, my stomach turns, and bile rises at the simplest of reminders.
