Page 99 of Cadence
And left behind.
My gaze snags on a red mark at the base of my neck, and my fingers fly up to touch it. Heat coils low in my gut, but not with desire, not this time. Something hotter. Meaner.
I snarl and smack the faucet on, the water hissing as it splashes violently into the sink. Cupping my hands, I throw it over my face, trying to drown the stinging sensation behind my eyes.
“Don’t make this a thing,” I mutter, gripping the edge of the counter like it might stop me from cracking. “Don’t you dare.”
Shoving away from the sink, each movement angry and jerking, I flick the shower on before stepping back into the roomfor my bag. Yanking open the zipper, I grab underwear, a clean shirt, and stop.
Thea’s voice echoes in my head, dread and nerves swooshing like a disgusting cocktail I can’t stomach.
“I’ve set up a radio interview the day after the Vegas show… Maddox, you’ll go with her. We want a united front.”
Shit.
My stomach drops, and I scramble to grab my phone from the nightstand to check the date.
It’s today. Not tomorrow, not next week. To-fucking-day.
I have to sit next to him, in a studio, with microphones, and pretend I’m fine. Pretend he didn’t leave a five-word breakup note on my pillow and disappear before sunrise.
I close my eyes, inhaling for three and out again.
I can do this. I’ve done harder things than answering a few questions about myself.
Just…not with his fingerprints still on my skin.
The studio is all glass walls and soft-lit panels. Everything feels expensive, a curated minimalistic vibe with microphones that look like someone designed them with a mood board and a brand deal in mind.
“Live in two,” Mitch, the host, says, chugging back an energy drink before swinging his chair into position. He counts down on his fingers, nods toward the mic in front of Maddox. I sit ramrod straight, my back as rigid as his shoulders.
I don’t look at him, not once, keeping my eyes fixed forward, jaw locked so tight I’m getting a headache.
“And welcome back,” Mitch drawls to his listeners. “We’re joined by the legendary Maddox Knox from Sip Station.” Hegrins like an idiot, staring at Maddox like he’s royalty before dragging his gaze to me. “And their new addition, Paige Erikson. The chick behind the drums. Gotta say, Iloveit.”
My smile is tight as I lean forward to speak into the mic.
“Thanks.” It sounds brittle, hollow, and I don’t even care.
“So…” Mitch says, clasping his hands and leaning back. “Austin Keller was with you guys for what? Eight years? Must’ve been a pretty big change bringing Paige in. How did you find trying to fill those impressive boots, Paige? A lot to live up to, huh?”
Before I can reply, Maddox shifts beside me.
“She gelled with us almost immediately,” he says, leg bouncing as he stares at the host, hands clenched around the armrests of his seat. “It wasn’t about replacing Austin. It was about what she brought to the band, and she’s brought a lot.”
Mitch chuckles, glancing between us before lowering his voice like we’re sharing a secret.
“And I don’t doubt that, but c’mon, Paige. Be honest. There had to be some part of you that felt out of your depth, right? I mean, the fans loved Austin—”
“And they love her too,” Maddox cuts in, again, and I have to bite my tongue not to snap at him. “She’s one of the best drummers I’ve ever seen. It’s like she was born to be behind the kit.”
His words are technically correct, praise on paper. But right now, they sound like someone covering a stab wound with a compliment.
“Hey, no offense, man,” Mitch says, hands raised. “Only messing. Sip Station’s definitely got their groove back since she joined…”
I tune out after that, letting Maddox answer every question like he’s seemingly so eager to do. My arms fold tight over my chest, my fingers reaching up to thePpendant on instinct. I canfeel him looking at me every few minutes, like he’s checking if I’m okay.
Let him look. I don’t care what’s in his gaze. Guilt? Maybe. Regret? Possibly. But neither would shine enough to justify what he did.
