Page 78 of Imperfect Cadence

Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t get your hopes up. You’re probably too doped up to understand what he’s saying. He probably means Remy.

“Yes, your husband, Colton. Do you remember him? Now that I think of it, you haven’t mentioned him any time I’ve spoken to you. I might need to call in Dr. Glass for another assessment,” the nurse continued, a note of concern creeping into his voice.

Did I hear him right? Colton was here? In this hospital?

How?

Why?

Shit. The tears started flowing freely as it occurred to me that my dream of Colt might just have been real after all.

The love of my life came for me.

“Are you serious? Is Colt really here?” I blubbered out the question.

“Ah, no. He said he had to go back to work and he left a few days ago. But he’s been calling regularly to check up on you and get a list of everything you’ll need at home once you’ve been discharged.” His discomfort was evident as he fidgeted with the pockets of his dark green scrubs, likely not intending to share that information with me.

A loud bark of laughter escaped me, but it quickly dissolved into tears, mingling with the pain that shot through my body. Of course, Colton would have been within touching distance after all this time, and I’d slept through it.

“Fuck, that hurts,” I wheezed between gasps for breath. “Note to self: no laughing.”

“Grayson, are you alright?”

“Yeah, just peachy,” I managed to choke out.

After all, I was only receiving the karma I was owed.

33. “Lioness”

Colton

The fans were getting restless, having spent the past ten minutes clamoring for an encore. Not that I could fathom why, considering I’d played like absolute shit tonight. Well, too bad for them because I had no intention of going back out there.

In typical Colton fashion, I had leaned on the numerous threats of lawsuits from the label and vendors if I dared to cancel my tour, using them as an excuse to continue to avoid my problems. I tried to convince myself that I was just postponing talking to Gray, that I would make a decision once the US leg of the tour wrapped up in a few weeks. But deep down, I couldn’t keep lying to myself. The truth was—I was a coward, plain and simple. My pride wouldn’t allow me to chase after Gray, only to face rejection for a third time. If he wanted to talk to me, he could make the effort this time. And considering it had been over a week since Remy let me know he’d been discharged and there’d been nothing but radio silence from him, I had a feeling I knew where Gray stood.

Was I being petty?

Absolutely. But there’s only so much personal growth you can achieve before you get fed up with people walking all over you.

Speaking of which, tonight was the night that stopped once and for all. I barely remembered the events of the last week, my memories obscured by a haze of stress, exhaustion and anger. As soon as I had finished my session with Dr. Vangari, I’d instinctively reached for my phone and dialed my attorney, Gabrielle. It wasn’t that I needed to confirm the accuracy of Gray’s words—I knew he spoke the truth. Over the years, I’d had a number of stalkers that my team had filed restraining orders for. Legal jargon sailed over my head, so I tended to give the paperwork barely more than a cursory glance, merely signing where the tabs told me to.

Now, Carl had used my apathy against me. Using Gray’s barrage of letters, texts and calls as evidence of his alleged “stalking,” he had filed a restraining order to ensure Gray would never find his way back into my life. And I had unknowingly endorsed the paperwork with my signature.

Gabrielle had been more than happy to hear I finally wanted to cut ties with Carl. Wasting no time, she had spent the past week working to terminate his employment contract, ensuring every detail was ironclad so that the slimy bastard wouldn’t receive another cent from me.

I hurried through my post concert meet and greets, eager to make my way back to the hotel so that I could get this over with. Less than an hour later, my fist pounded on the hotel room door down the hall from my suite. Santi and Steve flanked me, their presence reassuring, though they had vowed to remain outside unless summoned.

“Open the fucking door, Carl!” I snarled, my knuckles pounding more forcefully the longer I was made to wait.

After what felt like an eternity, Carl finally unlatched the door, disheveled and with his pupils blown wide. Glancing past him into the room, I caught sight of two half-naked women lounging on the sofa, one snorting a white substance off the other’s tits.

“What do you want?” Carl grunted.

I pushed past him, already pissed by the sight before me and the familiar squeals of recognition from the women. “I need to speak with you. Alone,” I snapped, nodding in the direction of the strangers.

“Pfft, sure kid. I’m sure whatever you have to say is so fucking important that it needs to be in private,” he scoffed, his speech slurred.

“Alright, fine. I’ll make this brief. You’re fired.”

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