Seth stood onstage with a white Gibson Les Paul slung over his shoulders, one hand resting on the guitar neck, the other one twiddling with his pick.

He looked… different.

He had a short beard, but I’d seen him with a beard earlier this year. It was his hair; it took me a moment to realize it. His trademark wavy, sun-bleached brown hair had been chopped off, and what was left behind was darker. I’d never seen Seth with short hair. It made his handsome features more prominent, especially his cheekbones and full lips. He was wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses, and I could not read the expression on his face, but his shoulders looked loose; you couldn’t play guitar like that if you were a ball of nerves.

I watched as he took off his sunglasses and slipped them onto the neckline of his T-shirt. Then he looked out at us, waiting.

And it struck me when I saw the look in his eyes: he still wanted us.

And I could not get over the shock of it.

He still wanted to play with us. He still wanted to be in the band.

He’d just come to audition for us, and for some reason, someone had let him in and let him audition.

And all I could think as I stared at him was: Why?

But even through the shock of it, I felt… relieved?

Confused, yes.

And angry.

I felt a whole torrent of unpleasant emotions broiling to the surface.

I looked around at the guys; Brody and Jesse were definitely angry.

Leave it to Zane, though, to look fucking thrilled.

Dylan just looked uncomfortable, like he had throughout the entire Seth ordeal.

It was the look on Jesse’s face, though, that bothered me the most. “Jesse?” I asked quietly. I did not say it into my mic; I had the thing gripped in my lap.

Jesse just stared at Seth and said, “Get him out of here.” He didn’t raise his mic, either. But it was all Brody needed to hear.

I didn’t even want to look at Brody’s face. One glance was enough.

I heard him coming, storming over. “Where the fuck is Jude?” Jude was standing back against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest, where he’d been listening to everything. When Brody saw him there, he growled, “Get him off the fucking property.”

Jude nodded his dark head at Brody, then looked at the rest of us. At Jesse. When none of us spoke, Jude’s shoulders dropped a bit. He uncrossed his arms and headed up the stairs to the stage. Seth didn’t even look at him. He was still looking at us.

His eyes locked with mine, and my stomach clenched.

He was a good distance from me, but something changed in his eyes as he looked at me. As he scanned the expression on my face, processing it. I saw it; I felt it, as he looked back at me. Something there, some kind of spark, the adrenalin of rocking out that song… a gleam of something, maybe—hope?—snuffed out.

“It’s okay,” he said, clearing his throat a little and finally looking at Jude. “I’ll go.”

Then I had to look away. I couldn’t watch. I did not want to see Jude manhandling him out of here, though I doubted Seth would put up any kind of physical fight if he did. It just wasn’t his style.

I felt sick.

I heard them leave, Seth and Jude, through a rear door off the stage. The door shut, loud in the silence of the cavernous room.

“The prodigal son returns…”

It was Woo who broke the jagged silence. No one else seemed able to speak.

But Woo was the only one sitting here who didn’t know why Seth was kicked out of the band this year—what happened between Seth and Jesse’s sister, Jessa, years ago. What Brody said had happened.

“Whoever you choose,” Woo went on, quietly, when no one spoke up, “they’ve got to be on level with the four of you. They’ve got to be a rock star if they’re gonna hold permanent residence in this band. They’ve gotta have that thing you’ve all got. That thing you just saw up onstage. That thing you felt when Seth played. Seth Brothers has that thing.” He paused, looking at each of us, then sighed in resignation when we still didn’t speak. “Just too bad his star burned out so soon,” he finished.

And that was when Brody said, “We need to stop filming.”

So they stopped.

Jude had reappeared, and on Brody’s orders, he and his guys cleared absolutely everyone out of the bar—leaving no one but Dirty, Brody and Maggie.

When we were alone, I said, “You know everyone’s going to think we set that up.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jesse said. “It’s not going in the show anyway. Seth’s not part of this.”

“No,” Brody said. “But we should keep it. It’s gotta be addressed somehow, and now Woo has done that for us, so the rest of you don’t have to. Seth had his audition; he didn’t make the cut. This is closure for the fans. He’s never coming back. ”

“Or we could just give him a chance,” Zane said.

Brody’s reaction was almost painful to watch. He stiffened, his jaw turned to granite, and I didn’t think I’d ever seen him look at Zane like that—like he wanted to bitch slap the words right out of his mouth.

“Does anyone actually want Seth here?” Brody ground out, in a tight, scary-low voice. I’d only heard him take that tone once before, many years ago; when he’d informed us that Jessa wasn’t coming on the first world tour, that she was leaving the band. Unforgettable, since it sent shivers down my spine, just like it did now.

“No. Fucking. Way.” Jesse was first to speak up.

“So it’s just up to you?” Zane said.

“No.” Jesse didn’t sound quite as livid as Brody, but he was definitely reigning back his agitation. “We’ve always operated democratically. If you want to formally vote him out, we will.”

“No,” I corrected Jesse, “we’ve always operated unanimously.”

“She’s right.” Dylan backed me up, which he often did when the other two were getting out of hand. “We’re all in or it’s not happening.”

“Who the hell is in, other than Zane?” Jesse looked around at us with dark, accusing eyes. I wanted to sink into my seat and disappear, but I stayed right where I was. It always made me uncomfortable when Jesse was mad at me, but I’d just have to deal with it; I was uncomfortable around him anyway.

“I didn’t say I’m in,” Zane said cooly. “I just said maybe—”

“I’m in,” I said.

I wasn’t sure exactly why I said it, other than the fact that I couldn’t quite stomach this particular ending to Seth’s story. I didn’t like the first ending, or the second one, but I’d accepted them. Just barely.

But both of those times, Seth had accepted them, too.

At least, I thought he did.

If that wasn’t true… the least we could do was listen to whatever he had to say.

The guys all turned to look at me. Brody, Jesse, Zane and Dylan. Jesse’s jaw flexed as he ground his teeth; he wasn’t happy about what I was about to say. But I was going to say it anyway.

“I’m in… for having the conversation.”

“Me too,” Zane said. No hesitation. I couldn’t really tell, though, if he was just “in” to irritate Jesse or if he really wanted Seth here.

Either way, the response was not good. Jesse glared at Zane like he was seriously considering throttling him. Brody turned and walked out.

He walked out.

Brody had never walked out on the band before. It was just a fucking conversation. Brody was our manager, and we counted on him for guidance.

But we all knew, when it came to anything to do with Jessa, Brody could be far less than reasonable.

“Anger management,” Maggie said softly in his wake, in the strained silence. “He’s… uh… working on it.” She was sitting off to the side, quietly, listening to all of this, iPad gripped in her lap. Her knuckles looked painfully white.

So maybe she’d had something to do with Seth getting in here? If so, she was probably shitting herself right now.

Poor girl.

Zane kicked Dylan’s boot. “Say something, man.”

“I don’t know.” Dylan looked as exhausted as he sounded. “The guy almost tore us apart before. If it’s already happening again, just over a conversation…”

“Seth Brothers is not tearing us apart,” Jesse said firmly. “We’re together on this. Aren’t we?”

“Brody just walked out,” Zane pointed out. He was poking the bear, probably still annoyed that Jesse wasn’t seeing eye-to-eye with him about that teen guitar wiz.

“So you’re gonna lose him to get Seth back?” Jesse accused Zane—and me. His dark gaze slammed into mine again.

“No one said that,” Zane said, lounging back in his seat. The more pissed off Jesse got, the cooler Zane would get. It was a recipe for a fucking disaster. “And we’re not losing Brody.”

“You bring Seth back in here,” Jesse retorted, “and we sure as fuck are.”

“Brody will cool off.” That was Maggie. She got to her feet. “And this doesn’t have to be decided today. If there’s a dialogue to be had about Seth—”

“If any of you actually think I’m ever getting in the same room with Seth Brothers again without talking to my sister first,” Jesse said, steam-rolling right over Maggie, “you’re dead fucking wrong. She should be here for this conversation.”

This time, when he glared at me, I agreed, “Yes, she should.”

Jesse stared at me for a beat, like maybe he’d expected me to argue. Then he got up and stalked out. As he went, his jeans brushed against mine, and I caught a whiff of his scent. Leather and cinnamon and gorgeous man, along with something that was vaguely Katie; sweet and vanilla.

I exhaled.

“Well, the auditions went well,” Zane said.

Next to me, Dylan growled out a load of tension. “I’m so fucking tired of this shit,” he bitched, rubbing his hands over his face.

Yeah. Me, too. But it wasn’t like Dylan to lose his patience.

This was just plain bad.

“You really want Seth back?” he asked Zane.

“Fucking right,” Zane said. “I wish we never lost him.”

“You’ve all been here a long time.” Maggie intervened, maybe sensing she needed to shut Zane up. She was pretty good at knowing when that time had come. “Let’s just call it a day. I’ll talk to Brody and we’ll do whatever we need to do to find the right person.”

“Thanks, Maggie,” I said, when the guys just sat there in dark silence.

Maggie nodded, then turned and quietly let herself out. Zane got up to follow, but stopped to clasp hands with Dylan. “See you later?”

“Yeah,” Dylan said. “I’ll come by.”

Then Zane turned to me. He moved in for a hug, so I got up to meet him. We embraced, but I wasn’t exactly looking him in the eye when he asked, “You coming tonight?”

No, I wasn’t coming. Was kinda hoping I wouldn’t have to say so to his face, though.

Zane was throwing a belated birthday party for Woo at his place tonight. In reality, it was probably also a Thank-fuck-we’re-done-with-these-auditions party. But now, maybe we weren’t done. And I was still going to Kauai—the split second I walked out of here.

Zane held me out at arm’s length. He was staring at me, and when I hesitated too long to answer him, he accused, “You ghosting?”

“Yes,” I said, because what else could I say?

His hands dropped away. “What the fuck, Elle?”

“I’m done. For now.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means I’m done. Taking a break. You all should too.” I glanced down at Dylan, who was still sprawled back in his chair, tapping a drumstick against his skull and looking like he’d rather be having a root canal right now.

“Tell that to Brody and Maggie,” Zane said.

“I have. They’ll need time to work out the details with the network anyway. Extend shooting or whatever. Meanwhile, we can all take a breather.”

Zane stared me down, but he didn’t argue any further. We all knew this process was taking a toll, and I really didn’t care what he thought about me jetting off to Kauai. I was supposed to have this break months ago, but this never ending search for a new guitarist kept postponing it.

How many times had he bailed on the band over the years because he had something more important to do, like get drunk, or get sober, or get laid?

This was my mental health we were talking about. We’d been working on the new album and searching for a new guitarist non-stop for a year while I also worked on about nine hundred other projects. I was officially overworked, overstressed and over the bullshit between Jesse and Zane—not to mention the bullshit between Jesse and me. If I didn’t get some time away, I was gonna flip out, and it would not be pretty. Maggie and Joanie had been working, hard, to clear my schedule—a small miracle—and if Zane had a problem with me taking off, he could take it up with Brody. I was gone, and Zane could kiss my ass as I walked away.

But I bit that all back. Just barely.

He knew it, too. Those ice-blue eyes of his narrowed at me, a grin twitching at the corners of his mouth.

I smiled, grudgingly.

“Hope you find some hot dick in Hawaii,” he said. “And cheer the fuck up.”

My smile fell. He should talk; I wasn’t the one who used sex to make myself feel better.

Although, these past seven months… that’s exactly what I’d been doing. With Ash.

Zane didn’t know about that, though. At least, I was pretty sure he didn’t.

Either way, I probably should’ve been relieved. This was what everyone had wanted, ever since Jesse and I broke up, almost a year-and-a-half ago: for life in the band to go back to normal. And Zane used to talk to me like this—crudely—all the time. Since the breakup, though, he’d very conspicuously bit his tongue about my personal life.

It seemed the moratorium on that subject was finally over.

He smirked, because Zane loved having the last word, then turned and sauntered away.

“Hope you don’t accidentally screw any underage chicks at your party tonight and end up in jail,” I told his retreating back. “We’re gonna need you on the tour.”

He raised a fist and flipped his middle finger at me, then disappeared through the door.

Yeah. Back to normal enough.

I just stood here for a moment and sighed. I was officially off, and it was long past time. The crew was starting to reappear, discreetly tearing down equipment and packing out around me. I was off the hook. This thing was done—for now.

So why was I still standing here?

“How about you?”

I glanced down at Dylan. I’d kinda forgotten he was still here. “What?”

“Do you wish we never lost Seth?” he asked me.

I sighed again, a heavy, ragged sigh that came from somewhere deep inside. Somewhere wounded and so full of regret, I’d never been able to find the bottom of it. A place where I kept the two worst memories of my life: finding my friend unconscious, limp and pale, in a pool of his own vomit and blood… and a month later, turning my back on him.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, my voice sounding small in the huge room. “It’s not the same thing anyway. Sometimes I still wish I never lost Jesse, but that doesn’t mean I want him back.”

When I met Dylan’s gaze, his green eyes were soft, his handsome face strained with worry. I couldn’t remember a time when Dylan had ever been in the middle of any kind of drama between any of us—Zane, Jesse, me. It was always the three of us raising a shit storm, and Dylan, the calm in the eye of the cyclone.

I bent to kiss him, lightly, on the cheek. “I’ll see you,” I promised him.

But as I walked out, I really didn’t know when that would be.