The guys busted through the door of the dressing room, high-fiving and patting each other on the backs.

“Do you know who was in the audience tonight?” Cameron asked me as he pressed a bottle of beer into my hand. “Of course you did. That’s why you made the announcement.” He narrowed his eyes in mock irritation while wagging a finger in my face. “You should have said something. We could have really fucked up. Lucky for you we’re ready for anything.”

I winced inwardly, certain they weren’t ready for what I had to tell them.

“Listen, Cameron—” I began, but his attention was diverted to the door when Laurel walked in.

She was off the ground, scooped into Logan’s arms a second later. After swinging her around in a celebratory hug, he looked down at her in anticipation. “Did you hear anything?”

“About what?” she asked, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.

Logan laughed. “Tori Grayson was sitting right next to you. Didn’t you see her?” When Laurel didn’t say anything, he added, “Dylan Boothe and Beckett Brennin were there too.”

His smile melted when she looked down at her toes. “Oh, um … they left.”

Logan’s arms dropped limply to his sides. “Left? When did they leave?”

“About ten minutes after the show started.” She offered a hopeful smile. “Maybe there was an emergency or something.”

The guys let out a collective groan as they digested the information.

Sean sank into the folding chair against the wall. “Obviously, they didn’t like what they saw,” he said with a sigh. The brooding drummer usually kept his feelings to himself. But even he couldn’t hide the disappointment as he stared into his bottle of water. “Maybe we didn’t sound as good as we thought we did.”

“Fuck that,” Logan bit out as he stomped over to the table to grab a beer. “We were tight. I don’t know what’s going on, but—”

Wrangling his phone from his pocket when an old Leveraged tune echoed in the room, he said, “It’s Dylan,” as he headed for the door. “I’m going to find out what the hell happened.”

Since I didn’t want to go through my confession twice, I decided to wait until he returned. I drained my beer, then poured a shot of Jack for good measure. When the stay of execution dragged on for several minutes, I fortified myself with a second shot.

Infusing steel into my spine when Logan reentered the room, I braced for his anger.

“Well?” Cameron asked. “What happened?”

“It’s all good,” Logan said as he sifted through the cooler for a beer. “Tori liked what she saw so they didn’t need to stick around.”

“What about Taryn?” Sean chimed in. “She handles the talent, right? What did she think?”

“No clue,” Logan said as he eased onto the sofa. “I’m sure she’s fine. They’re going to draw up a ninety-day agreement, and then we’ll see how it goes.”

When the chatter started up again, I poured another shot—my fourth? It was all blurring together.

Cameron’s hand came down on my shoulder, and I almost jumped out of my skin. “We’re going to take this party over to Nite Owl,” he said, frowning at what I could only believe was my sour expression. “Is that all right?”

I shrugged. “Sure. Whatever.”

Once we got to my loft, I grabbed a couple of beers and sank onto a chair on the periphery of the party with my phone in my hand.

To text or not to text?

Chuckling at my own joke, I dropped my head back. Even with the amount of liquor dulling my senses, I could still see Taryn’s face behind my lids, her sun shower eyes clouded with pain. Pain that I put there.

Hours later, I cracked open a bleary eye when Cameron shook my arm. “We’re heading home,” he said, glancing over all the bottles on the table that I didn’t remember drinking. “Are you okay?”

Fuck.

A few beers and the kid was looking at me like …

Sobered by the thought I couldn’t finish, I shoved to my feet and tried not to sway. “I’m good. Just a little too much cheer, I guess.”

Logan strode into the room, zeroing in on his sister. “You,” he said, pointing at Laurel. “Upstairs.”

Rolling her eyes, she pecked her brother’s cheek on the way to the stairs. I stayed upright long enough to wave at everyone as they left. Then I dropped back into the chair.

My lids snapped open when Logan’s boots met the coffee table with a loud thud.

“What?” I mumbled groggily, glancing around the empty room.

He crossed his arms over his chest, glowering. “When were you going to tell us you’re fucking Taryn Ayers?”

Taryn’s name on Logan’s lips swept away some of the haze. My mind raced for an excuse, and finding none, I let my head fall back.

“Aren’t you going to answer me?” Logan asked, after a long moment.

And say what? That even with everything that happened, I’d do it again if I had the chance?

With the last thought swirling in my head, I hauled myself upright. “Who I fuck is none of your business, Logan.”

Disgust curled his lip, and he looked away. “Do you know how long I’ve been trying to get this shit squared away with Twin Souls?”

I rose on unsteady legs and walked to the kitchen to get something for my pounding head. “I know exactly how long, since I’ve been carrying the band while you work out your management issues. Let’s not forget how you got into this mess.”

Bolting to his feet, he closed the gap between us in seconds. “Don’t lay this shit on me. You’re the one who jeopardized the band’s future over a lay.”

My fingers balled into fists, and I rounded on him. “It wasn’t like that.”

Logan searched my face. “What was it like, then?”

When I couldn’t find the words to explain, he shook his head. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

I fished four aspirins from the bottle I found in the drawer. “I won’t be seeing Taryn anymore, so you got nothing to worry about.”

Logan took a seat on the barstool. “It’s not that easy. Dylan invited us to go to the spring float next weekend. Apparently, their whole crew does it every year. Tori Grayson insisted that you come along and make things right with Taryn or she’s going to pull the offer.”