Page 75 of Give Me What I Want

“I…” He whispered, then cleared his throat. I glanced over my shoulder, curious, and found him swallowing and blinking hard, as though he was trying to muster some kind of courage.

And then I knew what was coming. He was about to threaten me, but he didn’t know whatIalready knew.

“I’m staying right here, and if you make me go, I’ll tell. I’ll tell everyone everything.” He met my eye as I slowly turned to face him, puffing up my chest as I inhaled through my nose slowly. His eyes dropped a fraction, then his fists clenched, and he locked his gaze with mine. “I’ll tell them that what you and her have is fake. I’ll tell them that you all take turns with her like she’s some toy to be passed around. I’ll say that she enjoys it, I wouldn’t want tolie, but it’ll ruin you. No one will support the band of liars and whores.”

A dark laugh rumbled from my chest, and I raised my chin, eyes still locked on his. “That’s rich, coming from you. But you won’t be doing that, Jordan.”

“I will,” he said, determination all over his face as he started to smile. He smiled like he had won.

Silly, silly boy.

I flexed as I crossed my arms. “My girl was too soft with you; she should have kicked you out and threatened your pathetic ass when she first found out what you’d done.”

“I’m the one making threats,” he spat, getting to his feet, suddenly acting the big man. “And she has nothing to hold over me.”

A lie.

I laughed again, raising a pitying brow at him as he hesitated, not stepping closer to me, not sitting back down. He swayed, eye twitching. “She—”

I didn’t shout, I didn’t raise my voice. I used a cool calm that I reserved for those moments when I wanted to inflict fear. A tone I never used with Bea, and never would. She drove me insane, but I never wanted her to be scared of me.

“I know what you did. I know that you think you’re safe because she promised not to tell, and youknowthat she takes promises to the grave. But I never promised shit. You were so concerned about hiding it from Mav, the observant one, that you forgot all about me. You forgot that I see the things that he doesn’t. You underestimate me, you think I’m a cocky prick with a god complex, and you’re right, but I have a good reason to be the way that I am. I’m sure of myself, confident, which makes me certain that you won’t be telling anyone anything. You utter a single word about any of us, and I’ll make sure that the whole world knows what you did. I’ll find her, and I’ll make sure everyone hears it from her too. You paid for her silence, but I can—and I will—pay a hell of a lot more to give that girl a voice. Who do you think will come out looking worse when I do, Jordan? Us, with our faked relationship, my girl enjoying herself. Or you, a drunk, disgraced rockstar who forced a girl to have an abortion, and then paid for her to never speak about it. I don’t think that’ll go down too well, do you?” I tilted my head with the question, but I didn’t wait for him to answer, there was no need. “So say you’re sorry for your little threat, then get the fuck out.”

Jordan looked like he was about ready to shit his pants. His face was pale, damp with sweat that hadn’t been there before. The strength had left his eyes, and his fingers twisted together as his shoulders drew forward. “Sorry,” he whispered, barely audible, but it was there.

“Go on.” I pointed to the door, stepping to the side to give him a clear exit.

But I couldn’t resist. The moment he took a step forward, I grabbed him by the throat, lifting him to his tiptoes. He choked, spluttering as I tightened my grip, eyes wide, meeting mine. “You’ll apologise to everyone before we reach Stuttgart. And when we get home, you better be gone.”

He gasped for air when I released him, shoving him towards the door of the bus. When he reached for the handle, I turned again. “And if the house is trashed when we get home, or we find you’re still there, I’ll tell. One step out of line, Jordan. That’s all it’ll take for me to tell. You’re not my family anymore. I have no loyalty to you.”

He kept his back to me as I spoke, but his head dropped lower with each passing second, and when I finally snapped, barking at him to go, he wrenched the door open and fucking ran.

With my chest heaving, I stomped to the door, slammed it closed, and sank to the floor. Angry with him, with myself, with everything. Fat tears rolled down my cheeks, and I broke. I fell apart, shaking through silent sobs as, for a weak, lonely moment, I said my own goodbyes, one to a man I had once loved like a brother, and another to a child that would never get to be.

21

We were supposed to be heading home tomorrow, but instead, we had made our way to Edinburgh, where we’d be playing a surprise show tonight. Then in the morning, we’d start making our way through venues all the way down to Brighton.

Our label were pissed with us, so we now had four more shows to play. That was all though, four venues, four incredible performances, and then we could rest. We could go home, unwind comfortably, and put all of the stress, drama and tears of tour behind us. Cole and I could visit our mums, Bea could see her sister, and a little normality would enter our lives, even if it was short-lived. We all needed it.

Jordan left two nights ago. Packed up and thrown onto a plane back to London where he was to be greeted by Elijah’s housekeeper. When Ronan had told everyone what Jordan had done, leaving out some finer details, the frontman of One Last Time stepped up and offered whatever help we needed. Between all of us, we had solved all of our surface problems. Ronan had assured us that Jordan would stay silent in his dismissal, and had also convinced Shane Hudson—Head of Limelight, one of the biggest labels in the country—to send over a session guitarist he had recently discovered. Maggie Bellows, the only reporter that Bea trusted, was then given the fabricated story that we had created about the dismissal of our guitarist—the drug habit that sent him to rehab, which, as Jordan had apparently agreed when Garth had explained it to him, was easily believable. Garth had organised all of the required paperwork to keep the truth about Jordan quiet. And Elijah had called his housekeeper and sent her to our home with gate codes and key safe numbers. We curated a list of everything we knew Jordan had in the house, and she retrieved it all, loaded it into a truck, and dumped it into storage. She then met him at Gatwick Airport, handed him the key to the unit, and left.

The woman was more than happy to help, and even offered to fill our fridge with freshly cooked meals for when we arrived home. It was an offer I simply couldn’t refuse. Seriously, Elijah wouldn’t let me. He harped on for hours about the woman’s cooking, so I caved and let her do it. Much to Ronan’s irritation, but really, he wasn’t going to want to cook on our first night back home, he never did.

Our first night home after any tour was always a pizza night, ordered from a place that didn’t usually even deliver, but for us, they would, anytime that we asked.

Picking up a pack of strings, I made myself comfortable backstage. Crew members were bustling around getting ready for tonight, but none of my bandmates or friends were here. No one was stopping to talk to me. It was nice, feeling as though I was simply part of the furniture, blending in as I sank into the plump blue cushions of the sofa nearest the exit.

I had found myself doing that more often recently, sitting, standing, just existing closer to the exits. Always needing to know where it was, just in case. In case of what though, I wasn’t sure. I just felt…uneasy, I supposed.

Although, I didn’t have anything to really feel uneasy about. Except for maybe losing Bea. I survived by tricking myself into believing that I wouldn’t. I told myself over and over that she still wanted me, through all of the pushing away due to grief, all of the sharp tones I used with everyone so much more frequently, she wanted me. She took my good with my bad.

And I took hers.

She was being a royal bitch recently if I was being honest. But I got it, I completely understood why. We had been betrayed, and almost two weeks ago we had lost a baby. It was a lot for any of us to deal with, but it was even more for her, because she was in the centre of it all. It was her body that had been hurt in all of this. It had been used, and it had let her down. That was what she had said, and who the hell were we to tell her that she shouldn’t feel that way? It wasn’t true, and she knew it deep down, I was sure of it, and she was fine, or so she kept saying, so we let her feel however she wanted. Act out until the pain went away. And we all promised each other that we’d let her come to us in her own time. Not a single one of us had laid a finger on her.

I wanted to though. Selfishly I wanted to fuck every bad feeling out of her. When she acted like a bitch, I wanted to spank her cute little ass and then sink into her.

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