Page 57 of Discover Me
"What the fuck were you thinking?" Tom's voice explodes through the speaker, loud enough that we all flinch. "I thought I told you to sell the relationship but that this shit isn't supposed to be real! Sex in the car? Where anyone could see and photograph you? What the actual fuck, Kellan?"
"Tom—" Kellan starts but Tom cuts him off.
"We're staging the breakup immediately. Tonight. I'll have the PR team draft statements and we'll coordinate the timing. This has gone too far. You're not going to drag your image through the mud like this, make yourself look desperate and out of control."
"The fans are loving this." Kellan's voice is tight with barely controlled anger. "The response has been overwhelmingly positive. We don't need to—"
"No." Tom's tone is final. "This is part of the contract. You agreed to follow my direction on promotional activities and public image. I'm directing you to end this now. Get rid of the emotions and give me back the brooding drummer boy who doesn't need anyone. That's what sells records, not whatever domestic bliss you think you've found."
Tom pauses, then continues with something sharp in his voice. "I assume you're over at the Beta's house right now, so you can deliver him the news personally. You're going to have to sell it, Kellan. Make it convincing. And there will be consequences if you don't comply. Breach of contract, financial penalties, potential lawsuit. I'm not playing games anymore."
The call ends and Kellan stands there holding his phone, his whole body vibrating with tension. He drags his hands through his hair, pulling hard enough that it has to hurt. His sweet rum scent spikes with distress, filling my small living room.
Jamie clears his throat from where he's been watching everything unfold. Kellan looks over at him, seeming to remember for the first time that we're not alone.
"I already know everything," Jamie says, his voice calm despite the chaos. "The fake relationship, the contract, Tom's manipulation. Micah told me weeks ago. And it fucking sucks that you're being forced into this situation. But maybe love is a little more important than your music career."
"You don't understand." Kellan's voice breaks slightly. "If I break my contract, I owe hundreds of thousands in penalties. I lose my band, my income, everything I've built. Tom will make sure I never work in this industry again. He has connections everywhere, power to destroy my reputation and blacklist me."
"No, I don't understand." Jamie's expression hardens. "I don't understand the music industry or contracts or any of that bullshit. But what I do understand is that you guys are mates. Maybe I was joking about it a month or so ago, throwing it out there as a possibility. But I can see it now, clear as day. You're made for each other. The way you look at him, the way he looks at you. The way his scent changes when you're near, how yours does the same for him."
Jamie steps closer to Kellan, his posture aggressive despite being smaller. "And if you're going to throw this away for your image or your contract or whatever other bullshit Tom is holding over your head, then Micah, you need to let him go. You need to walk away first before he breaks your heart."
He turns to me and I see the fierce protectiveness in his expression, the same look he had when he chased Derek and Colt out of my house. "No one ever puts you first, Micah. They all banded together when you got hurt because that's what good people do in a crisis. But when's the last time you actually got that kind of attention when you weren't bleeding or broken?When's the last time someone chose you just because you're worth choosing?"
The words hit harder than I expect, exposing a truth I've been avoiding. My dad chose work over spending time with me. My mom chose to leave entirely. The town shows up for emergencies but fades away when things are normal. Even Kellan and I started because of a contract, because Tom forced us together for publicity.
Jamie turns back to Kellan, his voice dropping lower but no less intense. "If you aren't going to fight for my friend, if you're going to cave to Tom's demands and stage this breakup like a good little puppet, then at least make it official on the last date. Give Micah the closure of a real goodbye instead of whatever manipulative performance Tom has planned. He deserves that much."
"I'm not breaking up with Micah." Kellan's voice is firm, certain. "I don't care what Tom threatens. I'm not doing it."
"You seem like a man of your word." Jamie holds Kellan's gaze. "Make sure you keep it."
Jamie grabs his jacket from where he left it on the couch. "I'm going home. You two need to talk without an audience." He pauses at the door, looking back at me. "Call me if you need anything. I mean it, Micah. Anything."
The door closes behind him and silence fills the space he left. I stand there staring at Kellan, not sure what to say or do. Everything feels too big, too complicated, like we're standing at a crossroads without a map.
I get up from the couch and start walking toward the stairs, needing space to think and process. Then I twist around to look at Kellan, still standing in my living room looking lost.
"Are you coming?" The question holds more weight than it should, asking about more than just following me upstairs.
Kellan's expression clears, determination replacing the uncertainty. "Always."
Kellan
We just finished a full performance and Rex doesn't even fuck up. Not once. Every note hits clean, every transition smooth. Jordan's voice soars perfectly on key, his tone rich and controlled in a way that gives me chills. Liam doesn't have to overpower his guitar to cover any mistakes because there aren't any mistakes to cover. Even I hit all the right beats, my rhythm locked in tight with zero false starts or missed counts.
It's perfect. The kind of performance we used to achieve regularly before everything became about the product insteadof the music. When we were just four guys who loved playing together, before Tom's management and the label's demands turned everything into a calculated business transaction.
We start gathering everything up, coiling cables and packing away equipment with the easy efficiency that comes from years of working together. The silence that follows the music should feel empty, but instead it feels satisfied. Complete.
"I think it's been a long fucking time since we actually enjoyed a practice and did it right," Jordan says, wiping sweat from his forehead with his shirt. "Like, really right. No mistakes, no tension, just clean music."
"I would have preferred not to sing about some pretty Omega girl we met at the store," Rex adds, setting his bass in its case with careful precision. "The lyrics are cheesy as hell. But yeah, musically that was solid. Best we've sounded in months."
I offer a small smile, acknowledging the truth of their words. But the satisfaction from the performance can't penetrate the anxiety churning in my stomach. Can't override the knowledge that in another day or two, I'm supposed to break up with Micah for publicity. That this perfect practice means nothing if I lose the one person who actually makes me want to be better.
Jordan catches my expression, his Alpha instincts picking up on my distress. "What's wrong? I thought you'd be ecstatic that everything went right. You've been complaining about our performances for weeks."
