Page 165 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

Audibly, she swallowed. And she brushed her thumb over the back of my hand, gentle encouragement to continue.

“I was in a band, lead singer, and had some measure of fame. It was growing in tandem with my using. The more the business drew out of me, the more I took and drank. I didn’t think I had a problem. I was the epitome of a functional addict. I worked a day job before the band took off. Then when it did, Kyle and I quit and—”

“You were in the band together.”

“Yes. He played some guitar. Not as seriously as I did, but he enjoyed the perks.”

“Women. Money. And the drugs too?”

I jerked a shoulder. “Only recreationally. He never we

nt to an extreme. That was my department. I did everything that way. I didn’t know the meaning of balance.”

“Not really a quality of most artists I know. We live outside the lines. That’s where the magic is.”

“Too true.” I wound a strand of her hair around my knuckles. “It’s also the path to destruction.”

“We all make mistakes.”

“I nearly killed him. I nearly killed myself. Of the two, one was a far larger crime. At least I’d made the choice.”

“So did he. He got in the car with you.”

“You do know some of it.” I tipped my head against hers, and she pressed her hand to my chest. Steadying the beat of my heart even as she trapped it under her palm.

“Some. But I want you to tell me. If you want to.”

“I’ll never want to, duchess.”

“I’m right here. Not going anywhere.”

Oh, but you are.

But I didn’t say it, because it wasn’t fair to try to capture the sun. It would only burn out while still trying to shine.

“You’d think a night that would change your life forever would seem different. It didn’t. Sometimes Kyle and I partied with others, sometimes alone. That night, it was just us. My da had told me earlier in the week that I was spiraling down, that I needed to get myself under control. My response had been to party with a new crowd who used even harder drugs. Who handed them out like candy.”

In the distance, a horn honked and sirens blared. Here in our small, quiet park, we might as well have been in another city.

Safe from all that wanted to intrude. Life especially.

Reality, that fucking moody bitch.

“I didn’t use what I’d been given that night. I tucked it away. I rarely went for nose candy. That wasn’t my particular choice. But I drank. The night with Kyle, I drank even more than usual. We were going from pub to pub, sitting in with bands where we could, taking advantage of open mic nights. Because in my world, music and excess went together. I didn’t know how to play when I wasn’t wasted. Thought stupidly I sounded better after getting loaded. Better still when I’d added something extra.”

Lindsey grasped a handful of my shirt. When that wasn’t enough, she went underneath it for skin. Touching me gently. Soft little flicks of her fingers meant both to soothe and to steady me.

“That shirt you put on—the one I flipped out over? I wore it that night. We took that picture before we went out. You probably figured that out by now, huh?”

“Yes.” Her voice was low but held no inflection. No pity, no judgment, no disgust. Neither did her radiant eyes. Even in the darkness, I felt as if I would’ve known if she wore those emotions on her face. But somehow she didn’t.

“You saw how much different—how Kyle was then versus how he is now.”

“Yes. But chicks dig scars.” Even as she said it, she stroked the left side of my chest. I knew she was trying to make me smile, but her touch was like a blowtorch to my libido.

I stilled her hand, squeezing her fingers. “We nearly died, the both of us. He knew I’d been drinking. He figured he knew how much. I have—had—a crazy high tolerance. But he asked me more than once if I was okay. I said yes. I thought I was. He just didn’t realize I’d had more than he realized—and I’d also snorted my first line in the pub bathroom.”

She rubbed my hand and said nothing.

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