Sean

I tossed a handful of clothes into my open duffel. The faint smell of peaches wafted up, warm like pie. Grinding my teeth, I fished around until I found one of Anna’s tank tops hidden beneath the folds of a wrinkled T-shirt.

More liquor.

As I fumbled to open the half empty pint of Jack I’d pulled from my back pocket, I felt Anna’s eyes on me. The drunken half of my brain instructed me to ignore her, but the sober half disregarded the command. Sliding my attention to the head of the bed where she was studying, our gazes collided over the top of her textbook. 

Pausing with the bottle halfway to my mouth, I smiled bitterly. “Want some?”

Her lips parted, but then she looked away. Like the sight of me was more than she could bear. 

And maybe that was true. 

In the month since Caged had been “discovered” and offered our golden ticket—a record deal and a year-long tour to back it up—Anna and I had exhausted every tactic waging our war of wills against each other. Screaming matches. The cold shoulder. Angry sex that lasted all night. But recently, this was Anna’s weapon of choice—silent resignation.

I chuckled dryly. “I guess that’s a no, huh?” 

Anna frowned as I took a long gulp. Satisfied that she was as pissed as I was, I trekked to the dresser to get more clothes.

Her quiet voice rose from behind me. “Is this really how you want to spend the last night in our apartment?” 

Anger flooded my veins as I spun to face her. “It wouldn’t be our last night if you’d agreed to come with me.” 

She chewed the inside of her lip. “You know I have school.”

My unfocused eyes shifted to the criminal law text in her lap, the glossy, red cover mocking me. I stalked to the nightstand, snatching the copy of the band’s contract with Metro Music.

“Law school will still be here in a year.” The papers crumpled in my fist as I shook them at her. “This offer won’t be. It’s a one-time deal.”

Anna pushed to her feet and glared up at me. “I never told you not to take the offer. We’ll work it out.”

Work it out?

All of our conversations tumbled around in my head, a cacophony of compromises and bargains, culminating into one bitter refrain: Anna wasn’t coming. 

The evidence was all around me. Anna’s neatly packed boxes. The two suitcases with all her clothes, ready to be transported to Peyton’s dorm. But I’d refused to see it until right now. 

Blinded by rage, I swayed in my spot, pointing the neck of the bottle at her. “I think you’ve got a plan. I don’t seem to recall having much input.”

A red flush stained Anna’s cheeks as she folded her arms over her chest. “I do have a plan.” Her stone-cold gaze flicked to the whiskey. “And if you weren’t drunk off your ass, you’d remember what it was.”

Grabbing a hair tie from the nightstand, she stormed away. I knew I should’ve let her go. But I didn’t. Chock full of righteous indignation and liquid courage, I followed her to the bathroom. 

“Don’t walk away from me, Annabelle. I’m not done.” 

We’re not done.

Sighing, she pulled a hairbrush from the drawer. “Just drop it, Sean. I’ll meet you in Phoenix in three weeks.” Her gaze met mine in the mirror, pleading. “Can we please stop arguing about this?”

Leaning against the doorframe to keep from falling over, I slurred, “You don’t seem too broken up about it, Anna-baby.” 

Maybe it was the use of the pet name. Or maybe she was just tired of holding all the anger inside. Either way, Anna rounded on me, and the hairbrush went sailing, nearly nailing me in the ear when it hit the wall. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A tear slid down Anna’s cheek, and I was grateful. I could work with that. 

Closing the distance between us, I caged her in.

My hand slipped into her hair, and I tilted her chin with my thumb. “Then come with me.” 

Anguish contorted her features, and for a moment we were on the same side. Then her wall slid back into place. 

“I can’t. Not yet. We’ll make the best of it and...”

The rest of Anna’s thought was drowned out by squealing tires and crunching metal as we met the end of the road. Our road. I backed away, stumbling over the rubble. 

“How ’bout I make the best of it.” I cocked my head, my bitter smile firmly in place. “And you get a refund on that ticket to Phoenix?” 

Anna blinked, confusion clouding her eyes. “I-I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“You’re the smart one. You figure it out.”

When I made an ungainly move to escape, Anna lurched forward, fisting my shirt. “No, you tell me what you mean.” 

I love you. I want you. I need you. 

I said none of those things. Instead, I pried her fingers from my shirt, the corner of her emerald ring digging into my flesh from the effort. 

“It means I’m done.” I dropped her hand. “With you and this town.” 

Anna called after me, but pride and whiskey propelled me out the door and into the humid summer night. Away from the only woman I’d ever loved, and whatever was left of the home we’d built. 

I woke up on Cameron’s couch, bits and pieces of the previous hours floating behind my lids. 

An unfamiliar perfume clung to my skin, overpowering the smell of whiskey, smoke, and stale beer. As I pushed off the sofa, I noticed the long, chocolate brown strands of hair bound to my T-shirt and jeans. Brown, not auburn. Not Anna’s. 

Pulling on my boots, I yelled a hasty goodbye to Cameron through his closed bedroom door before trudging the two blocks to my apartment. 

Dead silence greeted me when I pushed open the front door. “Anna?”

Logan framed the entry of his bedroom, his blue eyes frigid. “She ain’t here.” 

He slung his duffel over his shoulder, gripped the handle of his rolling suitcase, and then brushed past me without another word. 

I made it to the toilet in time to spew the contents of my stomach, and after rinsing the foul taste from my mouth, I took out my phone to tap out a text.

Anna-baby, I’m so fucking sorry. I need to see you. 

I was about to send the message when I took stock of myself in the mirror. Two purple bruises stood out on my neck. I ran my fingers over my skin, my hand sliding farther south to seek out the source of the sting on my chest. Yanking the collar of my T-shirt with enough force to rip the seams, I blinked at the trail of scratches. 

This time I didn’t make it to the toilet and I dry heaved into the sink until my stomach muscles screamed for relief. 

When none came, I peeled off my clothes and then stepped into the shower. 

Strands of Anna’s long, auburn hair floated in the water at my feet as I scrubbed my skin, trying to wash off the stain of last night’s debauchery.

I stopped cold when I heard my phone vibrating on the sink. 

Anna.

Dread filled me at the prospect of her call, but a little relief as well. 

I jumped out of the tub and made a grab for my phone, but missed the call. My stomach twisted painfully when I realized it was only Logan. A text popped up a second later. 

Bus is here. We’re at the Cracker Barrel next door to the Motel 6. Get your ass down here.

No way that was going to happen. The band’s first show in El Paso wasn’t for two days, and even if it cost me every cent in my emergency fund, I’d spend it on a plane ticket so I could stay here an extra night and make things right with Anna.

With a plan taking shape, I raced to the bedroom to get dressed. But one look at my reflection in the mirror behind the shabby dresser and I froze. In addition to the welts on my chest, there were finger sized bruises on my shoulders that I hadn’t noticed before. 

Backing away, I sank onto the edge of the bed. 

There was no making things right with Anna. Not now.

And maybe I knew that when I climbed into the backseat of that girl’s car. 

Darcy. 

Not even a friend, more like a fixture who’d been following the band around since she heard about our record deal. 

A groupie. 

I laughed out loud because Caged didn’t have groupies. Sure, we had fans, but women didn’t throw themselves at our feet. 

I looked down at my phone, heavy and lifeless in my hand. And with a hard swallow, I pressed the delete button, and my unsent text to Anna disappeared one letter at a time. 

I’d make it right. Just not now. 

After a long moment of indecision, I tapped out a reply to Logan. 

Wrapping things up at the apartment. I’ll be there as soon as I can.

Tossing whatever clothes I could fit into the duffel, I left the rest of my stuff on the unmade bed. As I headed for the door, I caught sight of a small carton on top of a stack of Anna’s boxes. 

Fragile—pictures. 

Opening the lid, I found a dozen photo albums of various shapes and sizes. Picking through the pile, I chose a thick, leather-bound scrapbook, and after tucking the album inside my bag, I paused and took one last look around.

I’ll make it right, I vowed again.

But when I closed the front door, my insides filled with lead because I knew I wouldn’t. Still, I kept walking, down the concrete stairs and straight to my car. And then I drove away, leaving my old life and the biggest piece of my heart behind.