I poured another shot of scotch into my coffee cup and glared at the adjoining door in my suite. Someone was in Tori’s room. Only it wasn’t Tori’s room any more. Not for the past forty-two hours and seventeen minutes.

Reaching for my guitar, I caught a whiff of something rancid. Me. I was rancid. Pickled in alcohol, sweat, and tears.

Tears … really?

My head fell forward, and I tried to remember the last time I’d cried.

It came to me in dribs and drabs. Wilted petals from my mother’s prized orchid strewn on the carpet under the window in the trailer. Me, on my knees, trying to glue the blooms back onto the stem. And the back of Jake’s hand the minute before it came down hard across my face.

Now you’ve got something to cry about.

That was the last time … until now.

A knock at the door snapped me out of my haze.

Tori …

Struggling to my feet, I weaved across the room. At the last minute, my common sense decided to make an appearance, and I paused, the lock pinched between my fingers. “Who’s there?”

“Me.”

I rested my forehead against the wood. “Go away, Anna.”

But she didn’t. “We’re worried about you, Lo. Please open the door.”

Somewhat intrigued, I straightened up. “Who’s we?”

“All of us.”

Snorting, I pulled the door open and met the quiet concern painting her features. “Nice try.” I leaned against the jamb to keep from falling over. “You want to hear the voice message from Cameron? He didn’t sound worried when he threatened to beat the shit out of me.”

Cameron knew better than to show up spouting that kind of nonsense. I wouldn’t think twice about putting him on his ass. Or he’d land a solid blow and put me on mine. That would be almost as good.

Anna sighed. “Maybe if you hadn’t kept your relationship with Tori a secret …”

I waited for her to bring up Mac. The meeting. The contract I’d ripped to shreds to prove to myself that I’d never entertained the notion of leaving the band. But I had. Drunk, I could admit it. Sober, I never would. So this little conversation was dangerous on many levels.

“You should run along,” I said, failing miserably to control the edge in my tone. “I don’t feel like talking.”

Head cocked to the side, Anna seemed to contemplate for a moment. “Too bad.” Brushing past me with a speed I didn’t expect, she skidded to a stop a few feet from the door. “Oh, shit.”

Turning, I took in the scene with bleary eyes. Overturned table. Broken laptop. Bed stripped free of all the sheets because I couldn’t stand the smell of the laundry detergent. And Tori’s note. I’d ripped it up and then taped the pieces back together. But I still didn’t know what it said.

Without a word, Anna crouched down and started to clean the mess.

“Don’t,” I said, sinking onto the floor next to the bed where I’d left my bottle of scotch.

Anna eased down onto her butt in front of me. “Have you talked to her?”

Lifting a brow, a humorless laugh scraped my throat. “What do you think?”

She bowed her head, nodding.

And even wasted, I could sense that something was off.

I took another swig of scotch. “Spit it out, Annabelle.”

“The media is saying that y’all are just friends. Twin Souls released a statement … um … confirming it.”

Pain wracked my body, every nerve protesting the lie. “Whatever.”

Anna’s gaze snapped to mine. “So you don’t care?”

“Of course I fucking care! I lo—” Swallowing that bit of truth, I cleared the lump from my throat. “It doesn’t matter. Tori Grayson’s in love with someone else. I never stood a chance.”

Brows drawn together, Anna blinked at me. “Are you talking about Rhenn?”

“Who else?”

Looking away, I tipped the bottle. A few more drinks and I could sleep. Or pass out.

“Lo?” When I didn’t answer, Anna dipped her head to catch my eyes. “Logan?”

With a weary sigh, I met her gaze. “Anna … just stop, ’kay?”

She scooted closer, and for a moment, I thought she’d just provide quiet comfort. Commiseration, or whatever the fuck. But then she blew out a breath and took my hand. “I’ve loved Sean … well, always.” Her shoulders curved inward, and I knew she must’ve been thinking about the four years they’d spent apart. Leading separate lives. Suffering. “And if he died tomorrow, someday I’d have to move on. That’s what he’d want, you know?” She paused, and I nodded. “But I’d never stop loving him. There would always be a piece of me that belonged to him. And I couldn’t love someone who didn’t understand that.”

A tear spilled onto her cheek, and I wiped it away, frowning. Rhenn didn’t have a piece of Tori, he had all of her. “It’s not the same thing. Tori doesn’t … she’s not ready to move on.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe it’s everyone else that isn’t ready to let her move on? Everywhere she goes, people ask about Rhenn. Stick cameras in her face just to see her reaction. And the only bit of emotion I’ve seen from her in the last few years was in front of that church. She was on her knees in front of all those people… crawling to you.”

My hand began to shake, and I set the bottle down. Maybe … No. I couldn’t think like that. “It doesn’t matter now. She left.”

Before I could stop her, Anna reached over and plucked Tori’s note from the floor. Chewing her lip, she glanced over the message and then carefully folded the paper into a square and held it out for me.

“I want you to remember one thing,” she said, holding fast to the piece of paper until I met her gaze. “Tori didn’t vow to love Rhenn for all of his life. She vowed to love him for all of hers.” Confused, probably from the scotch, I blinked at her. “Think about it, Lo. You’ll get it.” Pushing to her feet, she smiled down at me. “Come find me when you’re ready to hear what’s in the note.”

I’d never be ready. One goodbye from Tori was enough.

I stuffed the letter in the pocket of my T-shirt, right over my heart. “Okay.”

Anna held out her hand to help me up. Reluctantly, I took it. And despite the warmth and the comfort and the unconditional love she tried to convey, I’d never felt so alone.