Page 52 of Pretty Obsessed

"Iris…or?" I knew he meant Iris. Who couldn't mean Iris? Most people assumed he had issues, and they didn't get an intimate glimpse of his mess like Emory had.

"Yes…" He continued before I could answer. "You don't have to tell me. I know this is different than the club."

"Different than the club? What are you talking about?"

"NDAs," he muttered under his breath, finding something to pick at on the sweats he wore.

"Oh…" I hadn't thought about it. It never occurred to me to protect myself in a relationship because I hadn't attempted one, not more than a meeting. I hadn't brought a bodyguard up here. I'd wanted the time off from band life if he’d allow it.

"Do you want me to sign something?" he asked, still without looking at me.

I didn't like this corner we'd backed ourselves into. It felt wrong. Like this could taint the entire experience. Paperwork would turn this into a transaction. Even if it didn't in his mind, it would in mine. There was no trust and what was that telling Emory after he’d trusted me?

"No." I didn't elaborate, firm in my conviction.

"Are you sure?" He risked a glance.

"Yes."

"You want me to drop it?"

I nodded.

"Will Iris be okay with you here without any contact?"

I rubbed my brow. "I'll probably have to hike down to call him a few times."

"I'll have the ranger come get you. We can radio."

A stone sunk in my gut, worried about my best friend. Had I put myself before him?

"You're worried about him?" Emory asked.

"I'd never forgive myself if something happened to him." It was the most honest I'd been about Iris out loud.

He pushed to his feet, coming to stand between my knees. "You're a good friend."

I grabbed him by the hip, dragging him closer. "Sometimes I feel like the worst friend." Why was I telling him all of this? I barely admitted these things to myself. Emory was too easy to talk to.

"Why do you feel like the worst friend?" He draped his arms over my shoulders, giving in to my tug and letting me pull him closer.

I shook my head, trying to articulate to myself what I'd been feeling for so long. "He and I were friends before we got famous. We bonded over music. He and Caspian started the band and asked me to play drums shortly after. It was the three of us for months writing music before Lowe and Alister joined."

He nodded, listening but not interpreting which I was grateful for. If I didn't get this out in one go, I might never.

"Iris and I got close really fast. He and Cas were friends from school, but they came from very different worlds. Cas was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He couldn't understand some of the pain Iris and I wrote about. And never will. I think he got jealous at how close the two of us became. He got territorial when we started touring."

I pressed my eyes closed, filtering in and out of those nights. All the times they'd begged me to go out with them and I'd told them to go. I'd been so committed to not becoming my father, I'd let Iris drown.

"Why does Iris have to pick between you two?" Emory asked, and I realized I'd lost myself to my memories.

"I don't know. I don't go out like they do. Cas wanted to experience everything fame offered, and I won't ever be that guy. I think Iris went with him, looking for something to fill the silence. We'd gone from spending every single night together for a year to me barely recognizing Iris."

My fingers trailed the flower on my forearm like we'd been inked yesterday. As faded as it became, it would always feel fresh like the memory did.

Emory's eyes fell to where my fingers moved. His joined mine. "So he fell into the sex, drugs, and alcohol?"

I wasn't surprised Emory knew what Iris and Cas were up to. Not like it was a secret with how many photos of them wasted made it to the tabloids. And those were the things they were caught doing. The reality of it was much worse. Our publicist worked overtime and most of Iris' bad behavior never came out.

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