Page 97 of Wicked Truths

Lyric frowns, rolling her lips together. “Please, let us apologize. We haven’t announced that he’d be performing. Ruin can take an extra set.”

Callan Crewes, one of Lyric’s other alphas, comes up to stand next to Lyric and Ryder.

“When we lost Bryan, I almost lost myself,” Callan says, his voice full of emotion. “I’d like to speak to Liam if you’ll allow me in.” He looks at me, and I have no idea how I was nominated as the person to make that call.

My mind races.

I know Callan was really close to Ruin’s former bassist Bryan Thomas. The tour I met Lyric during was the memorial tour for Damian Sinclair and Bryan. I honestly don’t know if it would help or hurt Liam to talk to someone else who lost someone close to them in such an abrupt way.

“It was hard as hell to get up on stage for that tour. But every time we played ‘Darkest Nights and Dirty Habits’ it honored Bryan’s memory.” Callan shoves his glasses up, looking extremely miserable. “And that alone helped me.”

“People heal in different ways,” I say weakly. “I don’t want him to hurt anymore than he already has.”

“I know what it’s like to blame yourself for someone else’s death. To cry and grieve and curse their memory for the choicestheymade. All while convinced that if you’d done something differently, they’d still be here,” Callan says.

Ryder stretches out an arm, wrapping it around Callan’s back. Callan watches me, and I honestly don’t know what to say.

I’m lost.

My feelings are all over the place. Some of it is spillover from Liam, and that makes my heart ache even worse. I want to wrap him up and keep him safe from all of this.

I know Callan is a good guy, but what if he says the wrong thing and it sets Liam off? I can’t lose Liam. I couldn’t give a shit less about the band or making a multi-album contract. If it comes at the cost of Liam’s mental health, it’s not worth it.

What if it helps? It might give him comfort to talk to someone who has been through something similar. I honestly don’t know, and the fear of making a bad call is paralyzing me.

“I don’t think it could hurt,” Sullivan says in barely more than a whisper.

My eyes ache, and I feel like I’m about to burst into tears. The emotions are so much deeper than what I should be feeling. I turn, studying the door. If this is just crossover from how he’s feeling then… God, he’s suffering in a way I don’t have words to explain. I have to do something.

Callan still watches me carefully.

“Okay,” I agree.

“Only Callan,” Hawk growls. “And you fuck off too if he doesn’t want to talk.” It’s the wrong time to notice it, but it makes me proud seeing our pack come together to protect Liam.

“I will,” Callan says, sliding by us. He heads into the greenroom, and my heart races.

What if I made a bad call and Liam ends up hurting even worse because Callan opens up all of his festering wounds?

My eyes fly to Lyric and Ryder. “Why didn’t you warn us that his entire band—all of his friends—died?”

“That was his choice. He didn’t want your pity or your judgment.” Ryder nods to the door. “He wasn’t in good shape when we found him.”

“We just settled into the house here in Colorado,” Lyric says, rubbing her red nose. “But the pub owner—the same bar they left from that night—had been trying to get in touch with Saint for a while.” I frown until I remember Lyric calls Ryder by his last name. “Try Hard Hero was the last band we met before we broke up. The songs I gave them weren’t great because I was grieving and not in a good place.” Her head shakes. “We were going to offer them better compositions. We tried to get in touch with them, and that’s when we heard what happened.” Her eyes are glassy like she might shed actual tears.

“We needed to check on our flat,” Ryder says, giving me a sad smile. “But we also knew we needed to check on Liam, so we took a quick trip.” His head shakes. “He hadn’t much fight left in him. We offered him a slot in a band and dragged him, mostly unwillingly, back to the US with us.”

My heart drops. He’s amazingly talented. It makes so little sense how some artists make it when others don’t.

“Jamen put him with you guys, and it was a good fit,” Lyric says. “It’s been a year tomorrow, which I guess you didn’t know, but we wanted to do a benefit show for the families.”

“You sprung it on him with no notice,” Sullivan snaps. “What the fuck did you expect?”

“You were occupied for several weeks, and we made assumptions that he opened up during your bonding,” Ryder says. “It was a bad call, which we’ve acknowledged, but it wasn’t malicious.”

I don’t know what else to say or do, so I spin around and bury my face in Sullivan’s shoulder.

“He’ll be okay.” Sullivan kisses the side of my head. “We’ll be sure of it.”

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