Page 53 of Composed
“She’s very likeable.”
He tilts his head, mouth curving at one side. “What’s she doing with you then?”
My chest twinges.
I know he isn’t saying it to hurt me. If he was, he wouldn’t have reacted the way he did when I walked into the control room. But still his words hit closer to home than I’d like. Because I guess, to them, I stopped being likeable the day I walked away.
“Hendrix is also very likeable,” Riley says. “She just buries it beneath walls.”
Axel hums thoughtfully, eyes flickering with amusement as he looks at her. “Oh, I think you and I are gonna be the best of friends, Red.”
“Red?” Her brows dip, a line forms on her forehead.
“You don’t like it?” he asks. “No bother. We can come up with something else later.”
“Why?”
He clicks his tongue. “Friends give friends nicknames.”
“Okay.” She shrugs.
The sound booth door swings open then.
Air leaks from my lungs as Cole saunters through the frame. He looks at me, tipping his head to where Saint sits. I nod. Of all the apologies I owe to the guys who aren’t Cole, Saint probably needs it most.
He was collateral in all things Hendrix and Cole.
He didn’t earn my silence then. And he doesn’t deserve it now.
I push off the couch, steeling myself, before forcing my legs to move.
Cole's fingers brush mine when I pass, sending a spark searing through me. I glance up at him, the tightness in his jaw, his flattened lips. He doesn’t say anything, just rips his hand away, and steps aside.
I drop my gaze and slip past him.
The door closes behind me with a snick, leaving only the soft strum of the guitar in Saint’s hand to fill the suffocating booth.
Skunk lingers heavy in the air, the scent tickling my nose.
“You played the song,” I say in lieu of a greeting.
His gaze flickers up, eyes shrouded behind a glassy cloud. “You saw the show?”
I nod.
He lowers his gaze to his strings. “He needed to hear it.”
“I think I did, too.” I press my back against the wall and slide down, hugging my knees into my chest. “I forgot what it felt like, to hear a song I've written played for the first time. It’s strange, really. How easy it was to justforget.”
His expression shifts, his brows furrowing, but he says nothing.
I twist the ring on my middle finger as emotion crawls up my throat. “I’m really sorry, Saint.”
He says nothing.
I’m not sure he's even breathing.
My voice cracks. “I never meant to hurt you when I left.”
