Page 37 of Heart of a Rebel

But getting engaged?

It’s the opposite, and it sends my stomach spinning.

When they started dating, I thought she was simply his version of a distraction to avoid the fact that I was staying at his house while we recorded our album. I thought she was a convenient excuse.

“I don’t know for sure,” Quinn says, giving me a sympathetic look. “You know how rumors spread on tour. Boredom, and all.”

“It’s fine.” I force a smile. “I’m happy for him. I want him to be happy, and if that’s what Becca is, then good for him.”

Quinn’s eyebrows pinch, and I can see her trying to read me.

“Really,” I say, grabbing her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Adrian deserves the best, this is a good thing.”

“If you say so,” Quinn says. “I guess I just always figured there was something going on with you guys and eventually you’d act on it.”

“Me and Adrian? No way.” I laugh, but it feels more like the air being kicked out of me. “Rumors remember? We’ve always been just friends.”

The lies sour on my tongue. Friends might be all we’ve ever been officially, but it pales in comparison to whatever that statement pulls to the surface inside.

“I’m good, promise,” I say again, sounding like a record on repeat. “Good, but cold, so I’m going to get to my bus.”

Quinn smiles and pulls me in for a hug. I pat her on the back before cutting it short. No matter how much I’ve tried, physical affection doesn’t come as easily to me as it seems to most people.

She smiles at me in understanding before splitting off in the direction of the crew. And I’m relieved once more that the band splurged on our own buses for this tour. All I need right now is sleep and to forget whatever unwanted feeling is rising in my gut.

If it’s true that Adrian is getting engaged, then I am happy for him—really. But it doesn’t stop my heart from splintering. Knowing the door that I closed six years ago is officially being sealed. Nailed shut.

Permanently.

Making my way around the corner, I breathe a sigh of relief as my bus comes into view. Only, it’s cut short when I get closer and see something hanging on the door. A single white rose is tucked into the handle. And while to anyone else it might look like a sweet gesture from an admirer, my stomach sinks with the truth.

Because I know it’shim.

13

Adrian

EverytimeIthinkbeing the band manager for Enemy Muse will get easier, something goes sideways.

With Sebastian and Noah lovesick over their girls and not out causing trouble, it should cut my workload in half. But with Eloise on edge and Rome mid-spiral, I’m spinning my wheels as fast as ever. At least with Rome, it’s no surprise. He’s been circling the drain he’s inevitably going to be flushed down if he doesn’t face some of his demons for years. But Eloise catches me off guard.

She’s been calm and collected since the day the band made it big. She closed her real self off and morphed into whatever version of herself she thinks fans need from her. She built carefully crafted walls to prevent anyone from getting past them and that was that.

End of fucking story.

Except—these last eight months, something has shifted.

At first, I thought it was because she was staying at my house, and she sensed I’ve never really gotten over what still lingers between us. But then I suspected it was something more. Something she has absolutely no intention of letting me near, even if it’s my job as the band manager to protect her.

It’s fucking frustrating.

While I’ve managed to perfect the art of pretending not to give a shit about her personally in order to do what’s best for the band, it doesn’t mean there aren’t invisible chinks in my armor. All it takes is one rogue look from Eloise’s deeply brown eyes and I’m not sure what I’m even fighting for anymore.

Apparently, neither does she.

If she’s really done making music after this tour, I can’t stop her—or blame her, for that matter. All four of them have given up their lives in return for fame. And although Sebastian and Noah are slowly navigating how to balance both, Eloise has always given her entire soul to her music. If the day comes she wants more, I have no doubt she’ll walk away.

“You think too much.” Rome pops me in the shoulder with his fist. His eyes are bloodshot, and I really hope he’s not too high to make it through this interview.

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