I stormed to the table, fighting to keep my anger from boiling over and burning everyone in the vicinity.

“I’m leaving,” I yelled over the music as I snatched my purse from the back of the chair. “I’ll take a cab.”

Tori leaned forward, cupping her ear. “What?”

“Leaving!”

Beckett grabbed my wrist. “Give me a minute,” he shouted over the drum solo, eyeing the crowd with apprehension. “There’s too many people … I can’t …”

I shook off his hold. “I didn’t ask you to.”

Before he could respond, I dashed from the VIP area. The humid air hit my face like a blow dryer when I finally made it outside. Bypassing the line of cabs, I headed north. In a city the size of Austin, my entire life was limited to a three-mile radius. And maybe that’s why I couldn’t breathe. The air was tainted with every memory of any consequence. And Chase Noble just added to the swirling tornado of emotions.

Chase is Cameron Knight’s brother.

And why wouldn’t he just tell me?

A horn blasted, and I looked around.

“Taryn!” Beckett hissed through the open window of Dylan’s Hummer. “Get in the fucking car.”

I waved my hand. “I’m fine. Just go.”

Please go.

“Get in the car, T-Rex.” Dylan’s tone held less bite, but urgency underscored his plea.

It was then that I noticed a few people at the sidewalk cafe, eagerly taking in the show.

Is that Beckett Brennin?

Oh my God, Dylan’s driving!

It’s Taryn!

Chairs scraped the pavement as the casual observers abandoned their seats, inserting themselves into my private hell. Self-preservation kicked in, and I moved toward the Hummer.

Beckett jumped from the truck, his body shielding me as he nudged me inside. “Really smart,” he growled. “You want to get us mobbed?”

I scooted to the end of the seat, Beckett’s proximity irking me. “You’re going to get yourself mobbed. I didn’t ask for your help.”

Dylan gunned the engine, and two minutes later he bypassed the front of my building and drove straight to the gate on the visitor’s side of the parking garage. If I thought I was going to get out of this without a major discussion, I forgot who I was dealing with.

Dylan pulled the Hummer into one of my designated spaces and, without a word, he slid out of the truck and strode toward the elevator. Tori followed suit.

“You just gonna sulk out here all night?” Beckett asked, as he hopped out of the truck. “Because we all have keys to your place. You’re the only one that’s going to be sitting in the dark.”

And this was my life.

Gathering my resolve, I joined the trio in front of the infernally slow elevator.

“That was some stunt you pulled,” Tori muttered as she stepped onto the lift. “I’m getting really tired of your personal shit interfering with my business.”

My voice echoed off the metal walls as I followed her in. “And what about your personal issues, Belle? And don’t try to act like you don’t have any.”

She muttered something under her breath, and I did the same. When the doors slid open, Beckett slipped an arm around my waist, digging his fingers into my side. “Out,” he coaxed. “We’ll discuss this in the loft.”

The man with the attention span of a fruit fly was now giving me lessons on etiquette and decorum. Yeah, no.

“Get off me, Beckett.” I shook off his grip. “You’ve got no dog in this hunt.”

Dylan had Tori out of my reach, ushering her down the hallway. He shoved his key into the lock and then pushed open the door, yanking her over the threshold a second later.

The boys had witnessed their share of fights between Tori and me in the past. The distant past. For five years I’d given in. But tonight, I was ready to hash it out. Because, come hell or high water, things were going to change.

My rage abated as I paced the floor in my loft.

“I’ve already signed Harper,” I said. “If you want to keep punishing me for that, feel free. It was a business decision.”

Tori tapped her finger against her knee impatiently. “I’m sure she’ll be a welcome addition to the team. Just like Caged.”

On the imaginary scoreboard hanging over our heads, Tori and I each had one point. A dead heat.

“They’re a good band,” I conceded. “No loss there.”

Shifting in her seat, Tori settled against the cushions. “And … I want Chase Noble to join the team as well.”

I didn’t blink, even when the ground shook as Beckett jumped to his feet. “No way,” he growled as he attempted to sidestep Dylan. “What the fuck, Belle?”

“Calm down, dude,” Dylan said as he grabbed Beckett’s shoulder. “I told you, Logan said Chase is the best producer out there.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Beckett seethed. “Taryn isn’t going to manage the dude that used her to get his brother a shot. Is that what you want, Belle?”

Tori said nothing as Beckett continued his objections.

Tuning out the white noise, I crossed my arms over my chest in defense. From Tori.

“We don’t need producers,” I said. “I’ve got that handled.”

Tori sat back, assessing me with a frosty glare. “Obviously, you don’t since you let Trent roll over you on the Leveraged project. We need a musician to oversee the tracks.”

Dylan’s eyes found mine, beseeching. And since defending myself would only lead to questions I couldn’t answer, I dropped into my seat. “Fine, Belle,” I said. “If that’s what you want.”

Ignoring the yawning silence, I glanced at my laptop on the dining room table. Inside, there were twenty or more offers from headhunters across the country. I never read them, just tucked them in my little electronic file. Because I never considered leaving. Until now.

Dylan cleared his throat. “Do you have anything set up for this weekend?” he asked me as he took a seat next to Tori.

“This weekend?” I croaked.

I followed his gaze to the calendar on my fridge, where a big red circle marked the date for our annual pilgrimage down the Guadalupe River. The spring float.

“Maybe we should cancel this year,” Tori said quietly, and when our eyes met, I saw the girl behind the cloud of anger and discord. My best friend.

“Of course we’re not going to cancel,” I said, grabbing a pen and paper from my backpack. “Has everyone confirmed?” Dylan nodded. “Then I guess I should start with tent assignments. Preferences?”

Beckett sat up, suddenly enthralled with the conversation.

“I’m with you, babe,” he said casually.

I scribbled notes without looking up. “Nice try. You can sleep in Dylan’s tent, or bring your own. You’re a big boy.”

He pulled me to his side, tickling my ribcage until I squirmed.

“I am a big boy. That’s why you need to be sleeping in my tent.”

Just talking about the trip cleared the air, and we were teenagers again. We’d done the float every year since we were freshmen in high school. Before the accident, it was a tradition. Now it was a tribute.

The year after Rhenn died, Tori made her first trip down the river alone. The doctors had advised against it since her bones were barely healed. But I tied her tube to mine, and we made the journey together, with all our friends cheering us on.

Overcome by the memory, I chanced a peek at Tori and found her staring at me with soft eyes. “I don’t care what we eat,” she said. “Or what campsite we stay in, as long as you and I are in the same tent. And on the same path.”

Our lives were like that damn river. Always flowing in one direction, leading to the same spot. And if I had to change that, I didn’t know who I’d be. So I pushed aside any foolish notion about the file in my computer and went back to planning our trip.