Page 64 of Of Heartbreak and Harmony
“Here’s a secret.” He leans in close, tilting his head to position his mouth at my ear. He smells like weed, and his body gives off heat like a furnace. It makes me shiver, and I feel him inhale and exhale twice into my hair before he finally speaks. “It’sallup to you.”
“Callie.”
I jerk away from Jonah at the sound of Torren’s voice, immediately filled with shame that I don’t fully understand. Jonah, however, moves with a casual nonchalance that makes me think I’d perhaps read more into our encounter than was necessary. The glare Torren gives Jonah, though, has me questioning everything.
“Torren,” I say quickly, fisting my hands in front of me. I glance at Jonah and find him smirking at me. I’m not impressed to be on the receiving end of this smile. I want to glower at him, but I don’t.
“Would you like to watch the show from a private box or backstage?”
I flick my eyes to Jonah once more, then back to Torren. “Can I watch it from the floor?”
Torren’s jaw ticks as he bounces his eyes between mine. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
I square my shoulders, my determination to win this argument increases tenfold.
“I want to watch from the floor. Craig can be with me. Hell, so can your brick wall. But I want to watch from the floor.”
We fall back into silence, his brows knitting as he considers it. He’s conflicted. If he’s concerned about my safety, I’ll admit, it makes me feel warm. Protected. It makes me soften toward him.
I hate it.
He probably just wants to control me.
I raise my eyebrows like I’m irritated. “Well?”
Finally, he jerks out a nod.
“I’ll tell Craig and Damon.” Torren turns his attention to Jonah, and the look he gives him is pure ice. “Come with me.”
Torren turns and stalks out of the room, then Jonah follows. Neither of them say anything else to me, and even though it shouldn’t, it bothers me.
Then, as if I need more things to stress out about, I get a text from a number I’ve only seen sporadically over the last year.
Ezra.
It’s a picture of a magazine in a convenience store rack, me and Torren holding hands on the cover, followed by a single sentence.
Ez
Are you fucking serious right now?
I stare at it for almost ten minutes before responding, running through every possible excuse. Of all the things I worried about before jumping into this PR stunt, pissing off my former band wasn’t one of them.
Finally, I bite the bullet and text him back. One word because I’m contractually gagged, but I still can’t bring myself to lie to him.
Me
Yes.
Ez
Fuck you Calla Lily.
I cringe. I’m not surprised, given everything, but it still fucking stings. And honestly, he’s right. This whole thing makes me a traitor. To my band. To myself. Doesn’t matter that it’s fake. Doesn’t matter that it’s for my family. I’ve compromised my integrity. I’ve been bought, and that is by far the most difficult thing to deal with.
I’m sick to my stomach as I’m led to the floor for the concert. I’m so lost in thought that I don’t even pay much attention to the opening band. Some local band Sav’s handpicked for the weekend. It’s what they do now. Every weekend of shows is a new opener, and it’s usually an up-and-coming band that not many people outside of their home state have heard of. Opening for Heartless puts them front-and-center and allows them to perform for a crowd larger than they’d ever played before.
It's done a lot to repair Heartless’s reputation, but I’m not fooled.
