His jaw bunches as he nods in understanding. But he doesn’t say a word, just stares at me with eyes that are slowly going red at the edges.

I force the words out. “But Kill John no longer fills me up the same way. I find myself resenting that it takes all of my time, my attention. There’s a restlessness in me, an emptiness. I thought…I thought sex would fix it. That maybe if I felt that human connection, I’d be okay. And it has. To a point.”

Rye licks his lips, and when he talks, his voice crumbles like rust. “It will be better when we’re together for real. I’ll be here for you, Bren.”

My breath shudders. “It’s not enough.”

He blinks. Such a small movement. And yet it’s as though his entire body flinches.

The lump in my throat grows so large it hurts. “I need a clean break.”

“You…” His breath hitches. “You don’t just want to leave Kill John. You want a break from us. From me.”

I don’t want to leave him. But I have to. “My entire life is so entwined with all of you—”

“From me, Bren. Please don’t lump me in with the guys for this. I can’t—” He grips the ends of his hair and turns his head as though the sight of me is too painful.

“Of course, I don’t think of you the same way as the rest of our friends. But it doesn’t change the fact that, if I’m with you, I’m still with Kill John. I’ll still think about the band, worry about all of you. I’ll still want to cling.”

“Shit,” he says with a harsh laugh. “I can’t win here, can I?”

“Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

He cuts me a look. “I didn’t think asking for us to be together would be a difficult decision.”

“I can’t think when I’m with you; I put the rest of my life to the side. I can’t keep doing that. I need to think…”

“Think?” His jaw pops. “What is there to think about? You either know or you don’t.”

“Well, I don’t know!” I raise a helpless hand. “I want to be sure. I need time.”

His nostrils flare. “Why is this so hard for you? It shouldn’t be hard, Bren. This should be easy.”

“And the fact that it isn’t? Maybe that means something, Rye. Maybe we should take a step back and…and…”

“And what?”

“And evaluate things!”

“It’s a relationship, not a marketing plan!”

We’re snapping at each other like we used to. I want to cry. And I never cry over relationships. I’ve been a party of one for my entire adult life; I don’t know how to be part of a pair. I’ve forged myself in iron, unwilling to rely on anyone else, until it became a shield that I can’t seem to set aside. But I want to. Part of me wants that so badly. But my whole sense of worth has become the band. If I don’t take this chance, I might never know who I am on my own.

“Damn it,” he says with a sigh. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

I shake my head, wanting to reach out for him but knowing it won’t help. “It’s on me. It wasn’t fair of me to have started something with you when I was feeling this way. This is what I was afraid of. Everything is more complicated. And if we got closer, did this for real right now…”

“Yeah, well, don’t worry. We never took that step.” His gaze narrows as he runs a hand over his chin, the sound of his beard rasping. “Yesterday was a goodbye, wasn’t it?”

My heart thumps painfully. “Yes. No. I don’t know. I just wanted to enjoy you before—”

“You said goodbye,” he answers bluntly.

“I didn’t think of it like that,” I whisper before huffing out a pained laugh. “I was trying my best not to.”

“But now time’s up, isn’t it? And we want different things.”

I can only stare at him, afraid to move forward, afraid to stay where I am.

“It’s okay, Bren. I get it. You need this chance to figure shit out. Don’t worry about me. You’re free and clear to…” His breath hitches, harsh and loud. “You’re free.”

“Rye—No. Don’t. It can be a small break. I’ll go to LA, see how I feel—”

“Bren. There’s no way in hell I’m going to be the one who holds you back. Not after all we’ve been through. You’re right. We should end this now before it hurts too much.”

“Rye—”

“No. There are things I can’t do either. I can’t do this half-assed anymore. Find yourself. Find that happiness. And…and if you ever…” He smiles weakly, the forced gesture fading fast. He dips his head, swallowing hard, but then seems to give himself a mental shake. When he looks back, his gaze is flat. “You know where I am.”

And then he leaves me.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Rye

 

Well, that was a disaster.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Brenna

 

What have I done?

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Brenna

 

The phone goes off in the dark, clanging and vibrating under my head. Jerking awake, I fumble around, trying to grab it. Whoever it is has my personal number, and I’ve learned never to ignore a call in the dead of night.

“Hello?”

“Brenna?”

The second I hear my mother’s voice, I curse inwardly and grind my teeth. “Mom? What’s wrong?”

“Why would anything be wrong?” The ever-present censure in her voice scrapes across my nerves. “Why can’t your mother call you without something being wrong?”

God, why did I answer the freaking phone?

I rub my eyes and fight a sigh. “Because it’s the middle of the night?”

She pauses. “It’s eight in the morning, Brenna.”

Again with the reproach. The slight tone that says I’m a total dumbass.

“I’m in California, Mom. It’s…five here.” Which might as well be the middle of the night, as far as I’m concerned.

“Well, how was I supposed to know you’re in California? It’s not as though you ever tell me about your life.”

My life. I almost snort. My life is shit right now. All of my own making. I rub my aching chest and try not to think of Rye. It’s been a week now. A week of me making excuses to the rest of the band and hiding out like a coward. I left his house and found an Airbnb. A necessary step. One that still hurts.

“Why do you keep whispering?” Mom demands. “Do you have someone with you?”

As though the idea of me being in bed with someone is something I should hide. But I’m alone. Again. My fault. This time I do snort, a long scathing sound. It’s directed more at myself than my mother.

Unable to sit still any longer, I slide out of bed. “No, Mom. There’s no one.”

Out in the hall, where the windows lack curtains, it’s lighter, the sky beyond a steel gray blanket settled over the dark horizon. I take a breath and walk toward the little sitting area at the end of the upstairs hall. The hardwood is cool against my feet.