Page 103 of Reverb
“Yeah.” Adrian stared out at the buses. “He’s kicking himself hard for this one. Thinks he was too distracted.”
That roiled Mish’s innards. Distracted because of her. “It’s not true.”
“Doesn’t matter, in some ways.” Adrian’s voice was low and gentle. “He believes he failed at his job.”
Over a stupid piece of metal with a glass bobble on the end. “Where is he?”
Adrian shoved his hands into his front pockets. “On the crew bus.”
Pain, anger, and fear all laced through her, tangled into a braid that hurt every bone. Because if he wasthere, she knew what was coming.
Fucking hell.
She took a breath to steady herself, then another. Finally, she spoke. “Thanks. I’m gonna go talk to him.”
Adrian nodded. “I’ll let the others know.”
First, though, she needed to collect something from her berth. Because if this went the way she thought it might, she needed to be prepared.
The walk to the bus wasn’t long, but each step hurt like razors, especially when the crew members—milling around the outside of the buses—stopped to watch her.
Yeah, this wasn’t going to end well. Mish climbed onto the silent band bus and headed to her bunk. Marly was there, of course. David wouldn’t have the heart to take him back, even if he was taking everything else with him. Her heart, her soul. She didn’t understand why, but she knew what was happening. These stories always ended like this—and she was not a woman built for happy ever afters. Never had been.
Mish pressed her head against the wall that surrounded the berths, against the cool chrome strip there. There would be no tears. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Finally, she kissed Marly on the head, straightened, and headed out of the bus.
The crew members who’d been around before were nowhere to be seen now. When she neared their bus, Marcella stepped off. Before she saw Mish, she covered her face with her hands in a rare display of emotions, and that drove pain deeper into Mish’s soul.
Thiswasgoing to go the way she thought. She scuffed her boots against the gravel and Marcella jerked her head away from her palms. “Mish.”
So much unhappiness in her name. When she’d chosen it, she’d never thought it would carry the same weight of sadness her previous name had. She’d been wrong about that—though what was wrapped around her name now was a life of her own making. One she was proud of, and nothing, not even David Altet, would change that.
“David on there?”
Marcella focused on Marly, then met Mish’s gaze. “Yeah. He’s—upset.” She lowered her hands and smoothed out non-existent wrinkles on her skirt. “I made sure everyone else is busy elsewhere.”
To give him space. To give them space. “Thank you.”
“Mish...” She took a breath. “Don’t let him do this.”
They all knew the score. All of them. “I don’t keep lovers who don’t want to stay. I never have.”
She’d never seen Marcella look so distraught. “Sometimes you have to fight for what you want.”
Mish almost laughed out of bitterness. But Marcella hadn’t been there when they’d all fought for the band, or for each other. Andnoneof them had been there when Mish had been a kid. “Oh, honey, you don’t have to tell me that. I’ve fought for what I want my entire life.” She drew close, pausing before she entered the bus. “But that fight can’t be one-sided. Sometimes you have to let people go.”
Even if she didn’t want to. Wanted to wail and beg and bargain. Sure, she’d listen and hope and use logic. But if David was going to walk away, she’d let him.
When she stepped on board, David was there, in one of the crew seats, his hands gripping his hair. He looked up as Mish made her way toward him.
The heartbreak in his eyes was unfathomable. Especially when they alighted on Marly. “You...”
Mish held up a finger. “Wait. Let’s talk before you make unilateral declarations.”
He sat back against the seat. “Okay.”
She sat sideways on the seat across the aisle from him. “What happened tonight wasn’t your fault. Like the ring wasn’t your fault.”
