For a horrific moment, I’m convinced that I’m stuck in a goddamned nightmare. I don’t know how the hell else this could be possible. The two people I despise the most stand in front of me, big fucking smiles plastered on their faces like we’re all the best of friends and there’s nothing unusual about us being in a room together.

“It’s good to see you, Roman,” my old man says, offering me his hand.

“Why are you here?” I cross my twitching arms over my chest, jamming my hands under my armpits. It’s the only way I can be sure that I won’t wrap them around his neck and choke the life from the asshole. “I already told you I don’t want you in my life anymore.”

His mask doesn’t slip with my blatant reaction to seeing him. If anything, his lips curl up a little more as he lowers his arm back to his side. “Brooke invited me along to see your show. She thought I would enjoy seeing your success firsthand.”

When I glance Brooke’s way, she’s giving me this wide-eyed look like she’s proud of herself and waiting for me to fucking thank her for bringing this monster back into my life. Is this her way of getting back at me?

Stomach clenched, I swing my attention back onto my father. “My success happened despite your best efforts,” I growl out. “Or don’t you remember all the times you tried beating the love of music from me?”

Throwing a wide-eyed look over his shoulder, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He must be scared someone will finally learn of our secret. Or maybe he’s hopeful there’s a bar nearby. It’s laughable that I was once afraid of the coward standing in front of me.

His narrowed gaze slides back onto mine, the cluster of lines between his eyes deepening. “I think you remember things a little differently than how they were in reality. You were just a boy. I was simply disciplining you—”

“Bullshit!” I roar, taking a step in his direction. “Discipline doesn’t involve putting your seventeen-year-old son in a goddamned coma!”

Brooke slips in between us, pushing the palm of her hand against my chest. “Babe, you need to calm down. He’s here to support you.”

With the word “babe” falling from her lips, my insides coil. Who’s she fucking kidding, thinking she has any right to call me that? Belle’s right—where the hell was my head when I agreed to sleep with the psychotic bitch? Blood sears through my veins with the mere idea of Brooke’s hand on me.

Jaw clenched, I push her hand away. “How could you invite this piece of shit to come here after what he did to me? Have you forgotten how he split my head open and left me to die?” I part the hair on the back of my head to reveal the incision the surgeons made to relieve the pressure on my brain and bend so they can see it. “I’ll never forget lying helpless on the floor, watching as the man who raised me—the man I once looked up to—nearly beat me to death! I’ll never forget the feeling of having staples in my skull because of what my old man had done to me!”

“Keep your voice down!” my father commands in the kind of dark tone that never failed to shoot fear down my spine when I was younger. “You’ll make a fool of yourself!”

But now the sound only adds to the tremendous pressure of rage building up inside my chest. Squaring my shoulders, I laugh in a deep rumble, moving close enough that I can sense him quivering. The stench of booze oozes from his skin in sickening waves. “I’m already a fool for putting up with your abusive bullshit all those years! I should’ve called child services the very first time you left a bruise! God knows my own mother wasn’t willing to protect me! The only one who ever gave a shit whether or not I lived or died other than Grandma Caroline was Belle, and you did everything in your power to take her away from me!”

My father visibly flinches with the sound of Belle’s name.

“Enough, Roman!” Brooke demands, tugging on my arm to pull me back a step. “He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t interested in repairing your relationship!”

But she’s wrong. My old man’s hard, bitter gaze makes it clear he’s itching to throw his fist into my face like the good old days when I was weak and believed that he thought he had the ultimate control over my life.

I shake her off once more and shuffle back, palms of my hands held up. Together they’ve managed to stretch my tolerance as far as it can possibly go without snapping, and I don’t know how to stop myself from going completely over the edge of sanity when they’re involved.

“Fuck you both,” I snarl. “I don’t need this shit before I take the stage. You need to leave.”

They each stay firmly planted in place, staring idly back at me like they’ve forgotten the English language.

My father shakes his head. “Ungrateful little prick. I made arrangements to come all this way and you think you can just kick me out? Who do you think paid for all those voice lessons that got you here? I gave you the best of everything and this is how you choose to repay me?”

Eyes screwed shut, my hands ball into fists, ready to deliver the kind of retribution he has coming to him. He’ll never be a reasonable man. He’ll never be the kind of father who would commend me on my achievements, or apologize for all the times he was wrong. And God knows he was as wrong as a father could ever be to his son.

How can he still think I owe him a single goddamned thing? I open my eyes to flash him a cold smile. “If you’re a smart man, you’ll get the fuck out before I decide to repay you the way I’d like.”

Frantic thuds of my heart rock my body as I watch his mouth turn downward. He visibly shakes as he contemplates his next move. A big part of me secretly hopes he’ll give me an excuse to knock him on his ass. Adrenaline surges through my limbs with a force almost too much to withstand without combusting. I made this reunion far too easy on him. What’s keeping me from inflicting the kind of pain he showed me as a kid?

Finally, he huffs with a dark laugh and turns to slink from the room. Tension rushes from my body as I let out a long breath.

But Brooke lingers, her lips drawn back in a sneer. “You’re being unreasonable. He wouldn’t have flown here if he wasn’t sorry for everything he did.”

“Are you really that delusional? That man is the same asshole who didn’t think anything of throwing his son down a flight of stairs! He’s a drunk and a coward!”

“You’re wrong. My father said he’s doing exceptionally well lately—he’s been making their company a lot of money. I don’t think he’s drinking as much.”

“Can’t you smell him? That stench wasn’t cologne!” I grab her arm, digging my fingers into her soft skin. It’s better than slapping the shit out of her the way I’m imagining. “I don’t know what you were hoping to accomplish by bringing him here, but I don’t ever want to see your face at another one of my shows—or anywhere—ever again. For the first time since we were kids at camp I’m actually happy. I don’t need you coming around, fucking everything up. Do you understand?”

“I’ll never understand what you see in her, especially when I would’ve been so much better for you.” Wiggling free, she quickly swipes a tear from her cheek. “If you change your mind about talking with your dad, he booked the penthouse suite at the Scholar on State Street.” She rises on her toes to kiss my cheek. “Goodbye, Roman.”

As she walks away, I pull at the roots of my hair until my eyes water. Why in the hell did my old man agree to come along with her? I still question going after him and giving him the kind of beating he deserves. It’d be worth serving time in jail to see him break a fraction of the way he broke me.

I slam my knuckles into the cement wall, pain and frustration releasing with a deep roar. I do it over and over until my fist smolders with pain and blood coats my skin.

As I’m cradling my hand to my chest, Normie comes tearing around the corner. “What the hell is going on in here? Why aren’t you with the rest of the band, mingling with fans?”

With a new surge of anger, I grab him by the collar of his shirt. “Why did you say that shit to Belle about my stutter?”

“I was doing you a favor! I knew that girl would be trouble from day one!” His lips tighten with a scowl, and he pokes his finger into my chest. “You hired me to manage this band, so I’m managing it! I’m not paid to babysit ill-behaved rockstars and further their girlfriends’ careers!”

“I’m starting to think I made a mistake when I hired you!”

“So what are you going to do about it? You know damn well this entire tour would fold without me!”

I let go of his shirt to rub at my throbbing temples. It’s pretty fucking ironic that I’ve built up a successful career to have the rest of my life fall apart. As I follow him from the green room, I text Belle yet again.

* * *

Per usual the groupies waiting to meet the band are primarily women of all ages, a few who have the nerve to cop a feel when we’re posing for pictures. They ask too many questions and openly flirt until I’m grimacing with their unwarranted touches. Normie gets on my ass a few times, telling me I have to smile for pictures, but ever since the meeting with my father it’s like there’s a black hole pulling me under. And I still haven’t heard from Belle since we talked about our relationship going public. I keep checking my phone, but the last several texts I sent to her remain unanswered.

I finally catch a break when Nicki appears with a fresh spread of snacks for the fans.

“Hey, Nick!” I call out, running over to her. “Have you seen Belle?”

“Not since a while ago.” Setting the tray down on the table, her lips turn down. “She was in the hallway talking to some older guy. I figured he was one of the band’s lawyers or something the way he was dressed. Their conversation looked pretty intense.”

My back stiffens and the hairs on my neck spring to life. “Was he wearing a navy blazer and tan dress pants, this tall, brown hair?” I hold my hand up to my father’s height as a roiling heat swells in my chest.

Nicki nods, lowering her gaze. “Yeah. Is that bad?”

Bile rises into my throat, hot and thick. What the hell would my old man have said to her?

“I wanted to interrupt them and ask Belle if she was okay,” Nicki continues in a rush of words, “but she ran off before I had a chance. Looked like she was headed back for the bus. I wish I could’ve gone after her, but I had to finish preparing for this.”

I bolt from the room, ignoring her when she calls my name. I don’t acknowledge Reggie when he asks where I’m going either. My heart hammers against my ribcage as I sprint out to the bus through the pouring rain. A sense of urgency climbs up my throat until it feels like I’m choking.

I shout her name as I run through the living area to the back, leaving a trail of water in my wake. There’s an eerie stillness hanging in the humid air, rattling me to the core. The bedroom looks the same as when I left this morning. Still, I somehow know something’s wrong.

Vomit surges from the pit of my stomach as I run into the bathroom and find her makeup and shit cleared out. There’s only a handwritten note taped to the mirror.

A dark, nagging sorrow slams into me like a sucker punch, tightening my chest and tunneling my vision down to tiny pinpricks. My rain-soaked fingers blur the ink as I rip the note down, holding it closer like I think the words will change if I stare at it long enough. Knees weakening beneath me, I grab onto the edge of the sink. She can’t really be gone. She promised me that she wouldn’t ever walk away the way she had five years ago. After all the shit we’ve been through, all the things we said to each other—she finally said she loves me, for fuck’s sake—how the hell can she just take off without a real explanation? And what the fuck happened between her and my father? Is he the reason she left?

As I’m sending her yet another text, I hear footsteps pounding through the bus. I hold my breath, hoping it’s Belle and she’s changed her mind, but deep down I know the steps are too heavy even before Reggie comes tearing around the corner, soaking wet, eyebrows deeply set with worry.

“What the fuck’s going on?”

“Belle’s gone,” I say, pushing my way past him into the bedroom.

“What do you mean gone? Where’d she go?”

“No fucking clue.” I plop down on the edge of the bed and thread my fingers through my wet hair. “She was a little shook up over the WCS thing and some bullshit Normie fed her. Then Nicki said she saw her talking to my old man before she ran off.” With desperation thickening my throat, I bolt to my feet. “I have to find her.”

Reggie closes the distance between us, setting both hands on my shoulders. “There isn’t time, brother. We have to be on stage in less than an hour.”

I twist away from him. “Fuck the show! There’s no way in hell I’m letting her walk away from me a second time! Tell the guys I’m sorry. I’ll find a way to make it up to all of you.”

“I get why you want to go after her, because Belle’s one helluva good woman. I wouldn’t let her go either. But maybe you should give her a little time to shake off whatever made her so upset. Women usually need time to cool off after a fight.”

“This is way more fucking serious than a fight! Something big set her off!”

Arms crossed over his chest, he lifts his shoulders and lets out a long breath. “Look man. We both know our contract says we need to give the venue more of an advanced notice than this. There are a hundred other people involved in putting on tonight’s performance. If you cancel, we’ll have to shell out promotion and venue hire costs—no one will get paid for the work they’ve already put in. Plus it’ll put a black mark on our reputation. Think of all the fans who have been waiting months for a chance to see us.”

Of course he’s right. I can’t just take off and let everyone down. But if I don’t go after Belle, she’ll think I don’t give a shit. She might even start to believe that Normie was right and I was only using her as a way to keep my stutter under control.

As I drop my head into my hands, Reggie squeezes my shoulder. “I say you have Normie get you the first flight out of here after the show. We both know Belle doesn’t have anywhere else to go except back to her place in New York. You’ll have a few days to sort shit out with her before the next show in St. Paul.”

As a sudden headache rips through my skull, I nod. “There’s something I have to do, or I won’t be in the right state of mind to perform. Can you cover for me? I’ll try my damnedest not to be late.”

“Sure thing.” He takes my hand, pulling me in for a hug and pat on the back. “She’ll come back to you, brother. I know it.”

* * *

With my heart in my throat and adrenaline coursing through my veins, I nearly pound the penthouse door off its hinges. Several minutes lag by before my father opens the door with a crystal glass in hand, assaulting my nostrils with the stench of booze. Of course the worthless prick would be piss-drunk.

Growling to myself, I shove my way inside the brightly decorated room before whirling around. “What the fuck did you say to Belle today after you came by to see me?”

He shuts the door behind me and slurs, “Don’t you have somewhere more impor’ant to be?”

“No more bullshit! Tell me!”

Holding his hands up defensively, he laughs. “Relax, son. I was su’prised to see her after all this time and wanted to catch up.” Strolling over to the well-stocked bar, he pours more whiskey into his glass. It’s a brutal reminder of all the times he’d calmly tend to his drink before giving me a severe beat down.

“Catch up?” I repeat, squinting back at him. “You hardly knew her.”

“She must not’ve told you about my visit to Vegas.”

My stomach squeezes tightly as my jaw clenches. “What visit? When?”

“While you were in the hospital—you know, that time after you had been there to see ‘er. I asked Brooke what she knew about this Isabelle person that had your underwear all twisted up. Brooke had her number, so I used…had a PI track ‘er down. He found her working in one of those brothels—you know, one of those whore houses where prostitution is legal.” His lips quirk with a wide, sickening smile that has my stomach swaying. “Decided to pay her a visit and see what made her so special.”

I recoil as if punched. Belle worked in a brothel? No fucking way. Memories from the night I met her friends in Vegas flicker to the front of my mind, sending an icy chill down my back. One offered sexual favors for money. What if he’s telling the truth?

With violent shakes of my head, I push the idea away. “You’ve always been a pathological liar. It’s the only way you got by with knocking me around all those years without getting hauled off to jail.”

Eyebrows lifted, he drunkenly shuffles toward me. “Maybe you should ask her ‘bout the mark under her ear. The cut went pretty deep—wasn’t surprised to see it left a scar.”

Short breaths stutter through my chest. I glare back at him, fingers curling into fists at my sides. “You did that to her?”

“I did you a favor, son. That girl is no good for you. She’s nothin’ but a whore.”

With his crude words, my body’s in motion on its own accord. My fist slams into his jaw and he reels back, tripping on his own feet. A warm glow of satisfaction at seeing him stumble lights my gut until he rights himself and lunges at me.

“Is that all ya got?” he roars.

He’s so wasted that it takes a mere step to the side to avoid the strike. He falls chest down onto the arm of the leather couch, letting out a surprised yelp. He whips his skull back, colliding with the corner of the massive coffee table. Blood pools onto the ivory carpet beneath him as he falls to his back, coughing and sputtering.

It’s sickening to watch the man who raised me flounder, pathetic and helpless. But only a flicker of guilt lodges inside my stomach as I lurch over him, watching him struggle to breathe. “What did you do to Belle in Vegas, you sick son-of-a-bitch?”

Blood trickles from his lips when he coughs again. “Call…an…ambulance…”

“Not until you tell me what you did to her!”

“She knew…she remembered me…put up a fight.”

Put up a fight.

The words repeat over and over in my head until I’m struck with a thought so nauseating that I let out a sudden yell. I shuffle away from him, twisting my fingers in my hair. “Did you—” Skin crawling with the possibilities, I yell out, “Fuck!” and walk in an aimless circle.

The younger version of the girl I love appears behind my closed eyes, smiling and laughing with happiness lighting her dark eyes. What if my father’s the one who ultimately broke her? I need to know the truth. But what if the truth is something I can’t live with? What if it’s so ugly that I can’t look at her again without seeing him?

Hands slipping down to lock behind my head, I tip my chin up to the ceiling. “Did you force yourself on her?” I grind out through clenched teeth.

He answers with a rough, strained laugh like that of a smoker. “Like I said…she’s…a whore. Knew she’d…ruin…your life…just like…music. Told her…stay away…”

Anguish squeezes at my ribs as I stare down at the man I’ve spent the majority of my life putting all my efforts into violently hating. It’s nothing short of a miracle that I’m able to love anyone, but I’ve loved Belle for so long and so hard that I don’t know that I could ever hate her. Even if what he’s saying is true.

The need to smash the heel of my foot into his face is crippling. Somehow I hold back, watching him struggle as blood continues to pump into the carpet.

“Why the fuck do you hate me so much? Why are you so determined to ruin my life?”

I’m answered with another gurgling laugh, then…nothing.

I simply watch as my father’s chest rises and falls with his very last breath.