Page 52 of Tainted Tempos

“All right, thanks, Bart.” I force myself to say the words.

His relieved sigh comes through the line, ratcheting up my own frustration. Anger. Feelings of uselessness.

I end the call and pace around my bedroom for a few moments. The walls close in on me. A perimeter of light beams around the window, blocked out by the shades I pulled down last night and haven’t opened today. What time is it?

Mckenna left for campus thirty minutes ago, but she spent the morning studying on the other side of my fucking wall. These days, there may as well be an ocean between us. She’s been quiet and withdrawn. I’ve been moody and agitated.

Sure, we eat dinner together each night. Then, we watch television and compare notes on our favorite shows. We sleep in the same bed and kiss each other good night. But it’s as if we’re going through the motions. Keeping up appearances while we both internally crumble.

She’s exhausted and looks worried, half panicked over her coursework, and half panicked over her life.

And I’m ready to put my fist through a goddamn wall because, at every turn, I come up empty-handed.

My phone rings, and I’m hoping it’s Bart with an overlooked detail, or Greg, the guy on Mckenna’s security detail.

It’s my brother. I debate not answering, but since I’ve been avoiding my bandmates, it’s only a matter of time before one of them shows up. Maybe if I talk to Jameson, I can delay the inevitable a little longer.

“What’s up?” I answer.

“How’s it going?” Jameson asks.

I swear and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Nothing. I got fucking nothing,” I update him. While I haven’t shared Mckenna’s experience with Bran with anyone, the guys in the band and Aiden know that something went down between them. They saw Mckenna the morning after we married. They witnessed the despair in her expression and the pure panic that clung to her like perfume.

They may not know, but they allknow. And they are gunning for revenge just like me.

“You think you’re too close to it?” he asks softly.

“Of course, I’m too fucking close to it. She’s my wife!” I hiss. Ah, there’s that anger that’s been building since the moment I opened my eyes.

I wake up every time Mckenna whimpers. Overnight, in the morning, whatever. Sometimes, I comfort her, sometimes I give her space. But I’m always awake in case she needs me.

Jameson doesn’t pick my declaration apart, and I’m grateful. There’s too much at stake to waste time.

Mckenna’s losing weight again. Looking pale and withdrawn. Exhausted and fragile.

I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks, and I need to catch up on the lyrics I promised Reign I’d write.

Finally, Derek asks me for more input, the chance to create and write original songs, and I’m too fucked up over Branson Burton to concentrate. To rise to the occasion.

“Do you think, hear me out, that maybe it was a singular occurrence and there is nothing else? That you can’t pin anything on Bran because?—”

“There’s gotta be more,” I cut my brother off, unwilling to see his point. I don’t want to consider it because that would mean zero fucking justice for Mckenna.

Jameson swears. “Mav, this is a delicate situation. You gotta tread lightly.”

“Right now, I don’t care if I bring the scandal of the century down on our heads if it means burying that motherfucker,” I seethe. “I want him to pay for what he did.”

“Yeah? You ready to lay out what he did? To the fucking world? You haven’t been able to say it to me, Mav. And while I don’t know the particulars, I know enough.”

“I don’t want to betray Mckenna’s trust.”

“I know,” Jameson says evenly. “That’s exactly it. You don’t want to betray her trust, but you are taking over aspects of herlife she never asked you to. You’re on a crusade she might not want you to blaze.”

“Fuck. Aiden told you.” I close my eyes and plop back in my chair.

“A fucking bodyguard!” Jameson hollers.

I grip the phone tighter. “I gotta keep her safe, Jameson. I know shit between you and Amelia is fucked, but if you were scared—truly terrified—for her safety, what would you do?”

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