Page 49 of Filthy Rock Stars

“No!” Nico yelps, stepping forward. “I’m not asking you for that. And it wouldn’t even necessarily solve our problem. I still would need to figure out what to tell Mare and the band. And you’re not out of the closet. You quitting the band would probably make the tabloids more interested in us, not less.”

The reality that I might need to come out of the closet hits me. I’m well aware that would mean losing my relationship with my parents. They’re my family. I love them and I only ever just wanted them to care about me, but now I’m hearing my dad’s voice in my ears, explaining to me exactly why I’m a failure, which is the last damn thing I need right now.

I step forward, terrified of losing Nico. My heart is pounding, and adrenaline pumps through my veins, my impulsive, animal nature grasping for a solution. If he asked me to jump off the roof of the hotel, I probably would.

“Just tell me how to make it right,” I ask him again, aware that I’m pleading but unable to stop myself. “I’ll burn down all the tabloids. I’ll sign anything you ask me to. I’ll sabotage my own band. Just let me prove that I’m not an asshole, please.”

“You’re not an asshole,” Nico says firmly, but his breath catches. “No matter how much I try to reason it through, I don’t know if there’s any way out of this. I don’t know how we can possibly make this work.”

Hearing the words out of his mouth, that voice I trust so much, I believe them. Losing him will destroy me, but nothing would be as bad as hurting him and costing him his own happiness.

My desperation implodes.

“So that’s it,” I tell him, dejected. Pain eats me from the inside, the truth like acid on my guts. “You need to go with the band, Nico.”

He blinks, stunned. “Oh.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you,” I say quickly. “I fucking do, Nico. You have no idea. But I’ve watched you over the past weeks, and I know what it’s done for you to join the band. Hell, I looked up the video of the talk show. You’re unbelievably talented. And I haven’t been lucky enough to hear your music yet, the music you write, but I’m sure that it’s every bit as gorgeous as you are. Fucking magical. So if you’re looking at my shitty band over here and a new life with Kissing Dirt over there?” I shake my head, and it kills me to say it, but I fear this is true. “You deserve something better than what I’ve got to offer,” I tell him, terrified that he’ll agree but determined to do what’s right if at all humanly possible.

I feel sore everywhere. I need to collapse, drink myself into a stupor, fade away to oblivion.

Nico stares at me. Eyes wide, lips softly parted, back straight.

I think he’s about to turn and leave. He should.

But then he bristles.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he says, his voice rising and defiant.

Thank fucking god.

A breath rattles out of me, relief everywhere, but I try to hold my resolve.

“You do,” I tell him. “You deserve to be a rock star, Nico.”

He steps forward. “But you can’t decide that for me.” He tightens his hands into fists and takes a few more steps toward me. “I’ve never connected with another person like I have with you, and maybe I’m not going to just throw it away so easily, Solo. I mean, Shadow. Fuck!”

I close the distance and grab his shoulders. “Nico. Listen. You can’t let—”

But before I can finish my thought, his lips crash against mine. His hands fold behind my head, and kissing him is the only thing that seems to matter.

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

NICO

My life has falleninto absolute chaos.

Reporters have been hounding me, strangers have been recognizing me on the street. The clip from the talk show has gone mega-viral, and there’s no way I can shove the rabbit back in the hat now.

I came here determined to put myself first, to choose the band. Making music is my passion, and against all logic, I’m prepared to devote myself to my passion. Nothing and no one can get in the way of that.

But then I look at Shadow, and I feel every bit as certain that I can never let him go.

It’s confusing and overwhelming and a little bit infuriating, but in the middle of all the chaos, the only thing that makes any sense is when Shadow stands there, rambling excuses and casting about desperately for a solution to our problems, offering to sacrifice everything, and I realize I need to kiss him.

I realize that I can’t let him go.

Maybe I’m a huge sucker, but when I do press my lips to his, my feet land back on the ground. All the confusion melts away, like sunlight on the fog.

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