Page 9 of Wasted

"What the fuck is going on right now?" I shouted.

"This is for your own good, Cole," Wyatt said. "None of us want to see you destroy everything you've worked for."

Blowing out a breath, I fell back on the bed.

"Text me if you need anything, Taylor." Wyatt smiled as he pulled open the door and walked out, letting the door close behind him.

"Are you hungry?" Taylor asked, strolling to the kitchenette and dropping the brown bag on the counter.

"No," I snapped. I didn't want food. I wanted to be free of this bed so that I could get as far away from her as possible. Sucking in a deep breath, I stared at the ceiling. "Why are you here, Taylor?"

"I already answered that," she said, not bothering to look up from the bag as she pulled everything out.

"No," I sighed. "Why are you really here? You could have told them no. You knew I didn't want to see you again. So, why are you here?"

Stopping, she blew out a heavy breath before her gaze shifted to mine. "Because they thought I could help, and I felt like I owed you that much."

I sprang up to a sitting position on the bed. "That's what you felt like you owed me?" My chest tightened, and anger boiled inside me as the very fresh memories flooded forward. "No." I shook my head. "What you owe me is an explanation on why you announced you were marrying my brother after nine years together."

"Cole..." Sadness twisted her features.

"We were together the night before, Taylor," I growled. "Make it make sense."

She shook her head. "There's no point in digging up old bones. It's over, and it's time to move forward." She averted her gaze. There was a long, silent pause before she whispered, "Is that why you drink so much now?"

My lip curled into a snarl. It had everything to do with why I drowned myself in whatever took away the pain, but I would never give her the satisfaction of knowing that. I rose off the bed, my wrist still attached, and her gaze shifted, widening on me. "You are nothing to me, Taylor, and the only reason your name ever comes up is when someone refers to my dead brother's wife."

Hurt flashed across her pretty face, and I almost felt bad.

Almost.

"How long were you fucking my brother behind my back, Taylor?"

"Cole..." Taylor's shoulders slumped, her head shaking in defeat.

"How long?" I hissed. "How long were you two sneaking around behind my back?"

"I need a drink," she said, pushing off the counter and strolling over to the bar.

She was never going to tell me the truth. "And I'm the one with a drinking problem." I dropped back onto the bed. "It's not even noon."

"Actually, it is." Taylor reached for two shot glasses, the crystal clinking as she set them down. "It's almost five p.m. You slept all day."

My gaze flicked to the open window and then back to Taylor. It shouldn't have surprised me. I didn't usually wake up untillate unless I was being kicked out. Typically, it was just enough time to get showered, dressed, and head to the bar.

"Look, I know you hate me, but we're stuck together for the next six shows. So, maybe tonight we can figure out a way to tolerate each other for the next few weeks."

"Six shows?" I frowned. "What the fuck for?"

"Wyatt hired me to... to babysit you."

"You're kidding, right?"

Taylor's lips pressed into a thin line. She shook her head, blonde hair swaying. "Nope." The 'p' popped off her lips with finality.

Groaning, I dropped my head into my hand. I had zero intentions of spending the next few weeks with her, but I had to tolerate her long enough tonight to get out of these cuffs.

"I have to pee."

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