Page 122 of Cadence
Beau nods, like that confirms something. “Makes sense. He did come back…different. Still quiet, but lighter, I guess. Like he’d finally laid something to rest he’d been carrying too long. And I don’t think it was just about Penny.”
I press my lips together to hide the tremble in my chin.
“Babe, I don’t think it ever was about her,” Olive says, lowering beside me and taking my hand. “That night I came to see you play, I saw the way he looked at you, like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.”
“He should’ve told me,” I say flatly, even as my chest aches.
“I agree.”
“Any of you could’ve said something,” I say, gaze snapping to the guys.
“We didn’t think it was our place,” Eli says, but winces when I glare at him.
“We tried to get him to tell you,” Beau adds. “But Maddox…he doesn’t let people in. You know that better than anyone.” He looks at Eli, regret etching onto his face. “We didn’t know what was best. Either we hurt Maddox by going behind his back and forcing his hand. Or we hurt you by telling you the truth. Either way, someone was always going to get hurt, regardless, and the band would pay the price.”
I scoff. “Yeah, well. Too late now.”
“Is it?” Beau looks at me, his eyebrows pinched together. “Look, I’m not here to fix this. I’m not here to tell you what to do when it comes to him. I just… I’ve never seen him like this. Not even close. And yeah, it was selfish of him to keep it from you, selfish of me and Eli too, but if I thought I was the reason someone lost their sister? I don’t know if I’d have had the balls to say anything either.”
The words land heavy. He’s not wrong, but it doesn’t stop it from hurting.
“He’s not the same guy who sat in that audition and glared at everyone,” Eli adds. “You cracked him open in ways no one else ever could.”
“There’s a live going up at nine,” Beau says. “You should watch it.”
“Why?”
The three of them share a look, and I frown. Since when did Olivesharelooks with the guys? Standing, her hand slips out of mine as I squeeze past Eli’s legs, my knees knocking his as I make my way toward the hallway.
“Paige, where are you going?” Olive asks, concern in her tone.
“Back to bed,” I say, suddenly exhausted.
“Babe, wait, talk to us.”
I shake my head, because what’s there to say?
“What are you going to do?” she asks. “Are you going to watch it or not?”
I lift one shoulder, exhaling loudly. “I don’t know."
Closing my bedroom door, I lean against the wood, the ache in my chest back tenfold. Muffled voices filter from the living room, no doubt talking about me, but I don’t care. Not when the phone in my hoodie pocket is like a lead brick.
I was telling the truth when I said I didn’t know if I’ll join the live, but my hand touches the device even though it’s there. Just in case.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Maddox
I’vesentheramessage every day since we landed back home in LA. Nothing long or desperate, just something. A song, a post we’ve been tagged in, an image from the tour. All delivered. All left on read.
I stare at the screen, like maybe this time it’ll buzz with her name. It doesn’t. Even Beau hasn’t texted, and neither has Eli, which makes me think it went badly, or that she didn’t answer the door. Either way, I’m fucked.
Eight-thirty rolls across the screen, the countdown to the Instagram live approaching, and I keep reminding myself I’m fine. That this is no different from any other stream I’ve done.
But this isn’t some album drop or PR stunt. This is me playing like I’ve never done before. Just me, my guitar, and the words Ican’t say to her in person. And I don’t even know if she’ll listen in the first place.
Pacing my living room for the tenth time already, I re-check my setup. Ring light, mic, laptop. Everything’s where it should be, but I look it over like I’m expecting something to happen between now and the last time I checked.
