Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
“I know that!” he roars, and there’s no missing the pain beneath his anger. It doesn’t stop me from being furious with him.
“You fucked up. Bad.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” Again, I hear the anguish his sarcasm tries to disguise.
Rafe sighs. “I think both of us would like to beat the crap out of you right now, brother.”
Conal sinks onto the bed and buries his face in his hands. “I deserve it.”
I turn away, running a hand through my hair. “What are we going to do?”
“We’ll get her back,” Rafe says, with absolute conviction.
I stare at him. “How?”
He shakes his head. “Right now, she’s in shock. I think we should let her leave—”
“What?” Conal yells.
“Just for now,” Rafe says calmly. “Give her time to miss us, and remember all the good parts. Then we’ll get her back.”
“You said that. How?” I repeat.
“We’ll figure it out,” he growls. “She cares about us, I know she does. We just have to give her time.”
Conal picks up a chair and hurls it at the wall, leaving a hole. “No,” he says. “No! I can’t let her leave.” He races out of the room, down the hall, and down the stairs, Rafe and I on his heels.
Downstairs, the house is eerily silent, no one there but a couple of security guys. There’s no sign of Hazel … or Alan.
“Where is she?” Conal demands.
“Alan gave her a ride into town,” Jack says.
“Fuck!” Conal grabs a vase sitting on a side table and hurls it, shattering it into tiny pieces. He’s always had a temper, but it takes a lot to provoke it. I haven’t seen him like this in years, and since we met Hazel he’s been in an almost continuous good mood.
I put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get her back,” I say quietly, though I have no idea how and I’m not sure I believe it myself.
He doesn’t answer, striding away through the house. Rafe and I exchange glances and follow him, the security guys trailing after us. If our brother decides to destroy any more expensive items, they’ll probably try to stop him.
Instead, he goes into the gym and starts pummeling a punching bag with his bare hands. I make a face, but don’t interfere. Instead, I turn to Jack and say in an undertone, “He’ll need first aid when he’s done.”
“I’ll have it ready,” Jack says.
I clap him on the shoulder. “Thanks, man.”
Rafe and I go back upstairs and slump onto a couch, sitting glumly side by side. “You think she’ll go to her mom’s?” he asks.
“Probably. Her sister’s here in town, but I have a hunch she won’t go there.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “Ember wasn’t wild about us marrying Hazel. She might be a little too ‘told you so’ for Hazel’s feelings right now.”
“Good point.” We sit there a minute before Rafe says, “This is a shitshow.”
“Yeah. It’s either going to inspire a few screaming thrash songs, or it’ll wreck Conal’s focus completely … though I couldn’t give a fuck about our music right now.”
“Damn straight. I can’t think about anything else.”
We sit a little longer before he says, “We have to get her back, Bron. We need her.”
I look at him. “We love her.”
“Fuck.” He closes his eyes. “We do. We really do.”
HAZEL
My emotions are a mess.
Sometimes I cry; sometimes I scream. Sometimes I take a baseball bat and smash things, or at least that’s what I imagine myself doing.
I can’t go into Mom’s back yard to work out my frustrations, because photographers are perched like vultures in trees all over the neighborhood, hoping for a glimpse of me. The security team that the band is still paying for is keeping them away from the front door, which is one small mercy.
I barely remember getting here. I know I rented a car after Alan took me into town. He tried to talk to me on the way there, but I had nothing to say to him.
Mom, as always, has been amazing. No blame, no lectures, just hugs and listening and love. She asked one question: “Do you love them?”
“Yes,” I said, and dissolved into a crying jag that lasted half an hour. She put me to bed with a cold cloth over my eyes.
I can’t eat. Mom’s made all my favorites, but I have no appetite. It’s like nothing matters anymore. She finally guilted me into forcing down a few bites by telling me I was worrying my little sister.
There's no peace except when I'm asleep, because my mind constantly replays the last couple of weeks on a loop. The good moments—and most of them were very good—are pure torture. I've also come to see some events differently.
When Conal bought me the diamond ring and photographers just happened to show up? I'm sure he staged it, just to rub our relationship in Alan's face. Hell, he probably invited the paparazzi to our wedding and sent out a press release just after midnight, for all I know.