I spent the next few days, on and off, popping into the church. Jessa hadn’t been back to jam with the band since the show at the Back Door. Basically, since Seth started coming down to play. And I didn’t love it. I definitely wanted her to be here. The band did, too. But I was willing to give her some space on this.

Some.

Not the kind of space I’d given her back then—miles of it, until I totally fucking lost her.

But I could give her some.

She’d told me she loved me. Repeatedly. So yeah, in truth, I’d tear down the fucking moon and give it to her if I thought that was what she needed.

Eventually, maybe whatever was bothering her would fade. Maybe she’d feel comfortable enough to talk to me about it. Maybe with my support she could deal with it, or let it go, or whatever she needed to do to walk back in here again.

Seth wasn’t here every day anyway, but he’d been to a few sessions. I’d sat in so I could gauge the vibe, and it was good. Really good. I could tell everyone had their guard up, but the fact was, Seth fit into the mix just like he always had. Like he did from the very first day Zane dragged him home to jam at nineteen… to the day we had to kick him out because he’d gone so far off the rails with his drug addiction.

By that time, he was shooting heroin, and lots of it, acting totally erratically and completely falling the fuck apart.

But that was then.

Right now, he showed no signs of that fucked up-junkie. He was just Seth Brothers, brilliant guitarist… cool, somewhat mysterious, and likable as all hell. A man born to be a rock star.

We’d just had a particularly incredible day. Maggie had brought food by and the band had been here for ten hours. Seth had just left, and just the band and Jude and I remained. Jude locked the doors and I headed up to the stage where everyone was sitting around. I could feel the excitement, the exhaustion and giddiness, dampened only slightly by that ever-present caution.

I knew what they were thinking. It wasn’t like we hadn’t all been thinking it for a while now.

“I think we should bring him in, formally,” Zane said, straight-up. “So he knows we’re all taking this shit seriously. We’re taking him seriously, and we give him a real chance. Do up a couple of songs for the album, see how it feels.”

“He’s clean?” Dylan asked. “For real?”

“So he says,” Zane said. “Sure looks that way to me.”

“When I had dinner with him, he seemed clean,” I told them. “And he definitely wants to come back.”

They all looked to me. I knew my opinion held a lot of weight, and I took that shit seriously. I wanted to be honest but fair. To Seth. But mostly, to the band.

I knew they were worried about trusting him again. We all were.

“You think we should do it?” Jesse asked me. “Ask him to come back?”

“Seth never had a talent problem. And he’s as good now as he ever was. Better, I’d say.”

“Yeah, he’s way the fuck better,” Jesse agreed. “Which is saying a lot. Can’t say I wouldn’t love a really strong guitarist to join the lineup. And what he brings in writing… damn, that’d be sweet.”

“You sure you wanna share the spotlight?” Zane asked with a grin. “Got room onstage for two of you cocky guitarist pricks?”

“There’s room for your inflated ego, we’ll fucking manage,” Jesse replied.

“I’ll admit,” I told them, “I would’ve loved to see Jessa in the role. I think she’s a great fit. She’s family, and she’s got this thing… would’ve been killer to see where we could take it. But second to that, if we can work with Seth, it would make for a hell of a tenth anniversary. If we can keep Jessa in the mix too, writing, we’ve got it fucking made.”

“Yeah,” Elle said, “we don’t want to lose Jessa.” She gave me a loaded look. “So whatever we can do to keep her around, we should be doing it.”

Message received.

“I’ll work on it,” I said, sounding confident. “She’s not going anywhere.” I hoped like fuck I could deliver on those words.

“We’re not losing Jessa,” her brother said, also giving me a look.

“So what happens if we invite Seth back, and he goes off the rails?” Dylan asked.

“We front-load all that shit into his contract,” I said. “He’s off the wagon, he’s out. We’ve been down that road with him, not doing it again. But you’ve all gotta agree this is what you want. Maybe give him a few more sessions, feel it out.”

“I’m good with Seth,” Zane said. “He was a huge asset to this band, and it was fucking beautiful for a while, before it went south. It fucking sucked when he left. Personally, I’ve missed the guy.”

“We all know no one’s ever been able to take his place,” Elle said. “And to be honest, I don’t know if Jessa would. It would’ve been great, but it would’ve been different. Seth’s a better guitarist by miles. We all know that, too. He has an edge Jessa doesn’t have, and it would be cool to see what happens. With both of them. And we all know Seth’s a good guy, without the drugs.”

“We’ve never known him without the drugs,” Dylan said, and that was a cold, harsh reality that we all had to swallow.

He was right.

We never really did.

“You didn’t know me without the booze until I sobered my ass up almost seven years ago now,” Zane put in, “and that turned out pretty fucking fine.”

“Actually,” Jesse said, considering Zane with a sidelong glance, “kinda liked you better when you were a drunk.”

In response, Zane walked over, punched Jesse in the gut, hauled him off his stool, and a brawl broke out, the kind where they laughed as much as they beat the shit out of each other, and maybe a few things got broken along the way.

Fucking teenagers.

At that point, I left it up to Jude to referee. I had Jessa waiting for me.

Meeting adjourned.

* * *

It was five days later that I came home to Jessa with the news.

“We’ve asked Seth to come back to the band,” I told her, standing in the bathroom off my bedroom, watching her brush her hair. She was getting ready to go to bed, with me, and I couldn’t get enough of her like that. In her panties and my old T-shirt, in my home. I just leaned against the door frame and watched her, drinking it in. “They’ve asked him to play on the album. Go on tour, if that works out. The full deal.” I watched her face reflected in the mirror, gauging her reaction. “He said yes.”

She stopped brushing and laid her hairbrush carefully on the counter. Her eyes met mine in the mirror. “Of course he did.”

“You’re not happy?”

She turned to me and shrugged. “I have no right not to be.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I went over to her and slid my hands around her waist, meaning to hold her close, so we could talk without her trying to run away. But she pulled me to her and started kissing me, deep.

Next thing I knew she was steering me toward the bed, and then my clothes were off and she was on top of me, forcing herself onto my cock so fast it almost hurt. I grabbed her hips and held her still so I could get the angle right; then I drove into her. She tumbled, taking me with her, pulling me on top, and I got totally lost in fucking her, in her ragged, desperate cries.

Harder, Brody…

Fuck me harder…

I came when she did, hard. There was no stopping it. She fucked that orgasm right out of me, rubbing herself on me even after I was spent, like she couldn’t get enough.

Panting, I eased off her. I looked at her, lying there in my shirt, limp on the bed, staring at the ceiling in a haze, her shredded panties halfway down one thigh. One of us had ripped them getting them off. I wasn’t even sure who.

“What the fuck was that about?” I asked her, still panting. “Because it sure as fuck wasn’t about you and me.”

She drew away, curling into a little ball on her side. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’d like to know whether we’re fighting or fucking or falling apart. With you, I never know. It’s kinda one in the same.”

“It’s not,” she protested.

“You use sex as a weapon, Jessa. You use it as a wall, you use it as a shield, you use it as a goddamn knife.”

“That’s not true.”

“No? Then why don’t you try telling me, for once, what’s really going on in your head? Because you never tell me shit. You just fuck me to turn my attention where you want it. Just like when we were kids and you’d do shit to get my attention, yeah? Good attention, bad attention, it didn’t matter. Always mouthing off, arguing, running away and expecting me to give chase. Well, you have my attention, okay?”

“Fuck you,” she said weakly, and rolled further away, looking crushed.

“Talk to me,” I said, softening my voice. “You really don’t have to fuck me to get me to listen.”

“Fine. I’ll talk.” She turned to face me. “I feel blindsided by Seth being asked back into the band. It makes me feel like everything’s out of my control and it scares me.”

“Why?”

“I should have a say,” she said. “The band wants me writing songs with them, don’t I get a say on the new lineup?”

“Frankly, no,” I told her, getting out of bed and pulling on my underwear. “You’ve disappeared on them again, haven’t been to a session in over a week. You can’t have it both ways, Jessa.”

She got out of bed, discarding her ripped panties, and pulled on some new ones from the drawer she’d been using in my dresser. Officially, she was still staying at Jesse’s, wouldn’t bring all her things over here, but she’d slept here every night.

She threw me a hurt look. “So you’re choosing Seth over me, is that it?”

“Are you giving me an ultimatum?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe.”

“Why does it have to be one or the other?” I stared at her a long, long moment, waiting for her reply.

She stared back.

And in that loaded silence, I felt the rage rising up, jagged and hot. Wasn’t gonna unleash it on her, so I turned, picked up the first thing I saw—a glass of water on the bedside table—and smashed it against the wall behind me. She jumped, startled. “What the hell is going on between you and him?”

“Nothing,” she said.

“Then what went on between you and him? I thought the two of you were tight, and then you up and disappeared.”

“That’s not what happened.”

“For fuck’s sake, Jessa—”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

“How was it not your fault? You left us.”

“Stop saying that!”

“Then tell me what happened!”

“You’re going to keep throwing that in my face forever, aren’t you? I. Left. I know! It was the biggest mistake I ever made, and you’re never going to let it go.”

“No,” I said, calming myself the fuck down. “I just want to understand.” I took a few steps toward her, softening. “Why the fuck are you fighting this? You say the word, and you’ve got your shot with the band. You’re in. They wanted you first. They’re only giving Seth a shot now because you turned them down, and because I asked them to.”

She blinked at me. “You did?”

I sighed. “The rhythm guitarist position has been a revolving fucking door for the past six years and we’re all tired of it. We need someone permanent, someone who can really bring something special to the band. Seth could be the one, but it should be you.”

“Brody.” She shook her head. “Just… don’t start that again, okay?”

“Why the fuck not? I can’t believe you can’t fucking see it when everyone else can.”

“It, it, it. What the fuck is it?”

“It, Jessa. You have it. That indescribable, intangible, heart-stopping thing that makes the world stop fucking turning when you walk in a room. When you open your mouth and you sing, and your heart pours out, and your words… Jesus, Jessa, your lyrics, the things you write… the way you write… you know how many people can write like that? How many musicians wish they could write like that? How many wannabe stars wish they could sound like you, or look like you? Or had half the connections you have?”

“So what? So fucking what? So I’m supposed to follow some path you and my brother have decided for me, just so you can live out your dream of managing me?”

“I don’t care who you get to manage you. This is not about me. This is about you, throwing all that shit away. It kills me that you’re fucking wasting it all—”

“Wasting it? How am I wasting it?”

“Modeling, Jessa. What the fuck are you doing modeling, when you have all this talent—”

“Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea how hard it is to get to where I have? You think I don’t work my ass off? That it’s not of any worth at all?”

Shit. This was going way the fuck in the wrong direction.

I took a breath. “I know you’ve been successful—”

“Yeah, I have. And I’ve done it without you. Without the band. Just me.”

“I know that. You’ve done well for yourself. I’m not saying you haven’t.”

“Then why do you keep attacking it, like what I’ve done is such a mistake?”

“Because it is a mistake when you’re throwing everything else away in pursuit of it and you’re running away from your life, from the people who love you. You know what that’s usually called? It’s called an addiction, Jessa. And it’s not fucking healthy.”

“Really. You think I’m addicted to modeling, you really don’t know me.”

“No,” I said. “I think you’re addicted to the high you get from the validation of it. The distraction of not having to deal with your life, your regrets, and your feelings.”

“You’re so wrong,” she said, hugging herself, but I knew that was bullshit.

“What happened to your big dreams?” I pressed. “Your notebooks all crammed with your ideas? You used to have something to say. You had so fucking much to say, you were overflowing with words. And now I have to pry them out of you with a crowbar.”

“What do you want from me? You want me to stand here and talk about my feelings? Like what? How shitty I feel because I ran away? Is that what you want to hear me say?”

No. I didn’t want to hear that. I wasn’t trying to punish her. All I really wanted was for her to let it all go. Whatever was keeping her from being here, with me.

“I remember sitting with you, talking for hours,” I told her. “Writing songs with the band, and going on tour, that’s all you ever talked about. I couldn’t shut you up about it if I tried.”

“I was a kid. What the fuck did I know?”

“You knew what you wanted.”

“I’m not going onstage, Brody. I don’t want to be onstage and I don’t want to perform anymore.”

“Then you don’t have to.”

“Did you know my agent calls me every day asking when I’m coming back, telling me about all the jobs I’m missing out on? I could go. I could go right now.”

“Then why don’t you? If that’s what you want? If that’s where you belong?”

“Because I don’t want to do it anymore!” she cried. Then she closed the distance between us, getting so close I could see all the colors in her eyes as she looked up at me. “Do you have any idea how wrong that feels? I’ve worked so hard, sacrificed so much, to just walk away… Don’t you get that? I had to succeed at it because I chose it and everything I ever did from that point on was wrong. If I didn’t make it work, then the whole thing would just crumble like a house of cards or a bunch of dominoes or some other stupid metaphor I can’t even think of right now!” She swiped her hands through her hair, frustrated. “But I’m so tired of it, Brody. I’m tired of working so hard to be what other people want me to be.” She took a shaky breath. “That shoot last week was beautiful. We shot at the Crystal, you know, the hotel? In the ballroom and on that big, sweeping staircase in the lobby, and I got to wear the most epically gorgeous dresses—”

“I know.”

She frowned. “You know?”

“I saw you.” Kinda felt like an idiot telling her this way, but since it came up… “I was downtown anyway, for a meeting, and Jude texted. He’d seen you. And I might’ve… swung by to look.” I shrugged, feeling weird about it. “I couldn’t resist.”

She was still frowning. “Why didn’t you say hi?”

“You were working. I didn’t want to bother you.” That was true, but now it sounded lame. “Shit. Do I sound like a stalker?”

“Kind of.” She sounded a little amused, but she didn’t smile.

“Well, you looked like a princess. For real.” That was true, too. More than true. She was wearing a wedding gown with a long train when I saw her on that staircase, with all the lights and a big team of people flocking around her. I’d never had a fantasy of watching a woman walk up the aisle toward me until that moment. She looked like a goddess, but Jessa always looked that way to me.

“Yeah,” she said, but she didn’t look happy about it. “They treated me like one, and I didn’t even want to be there.” She shook her head. “I felt so fucking ungrateful, thinking about all the girls who’d love to be in my place, and I didn’t even want it. When I’m modeling, I’m not me, Brody. And that used to feel good to me. Safe. It doesn’t feel good anymore. I just… I want to write. I want to write songs and jam with the band and then I want to hang out in the recording studio and help them tweak the songs and fight over them and laugh like crazy, just like I did on the first album, you know? I want to be happy. I want to go watch them play live. I want to watch Zane sing my songs and I want to get excited and scream and dance until my throat is sore and my ears are ringing. That’s all I want. I want to feel like I’m where I belong. I just want to be a part of it again, but I want it to be my part. Not rhythm guitar. Not backup singer. Not what you or anyone else envisions for me. I just want to write songs. That’s all I’ve ever, ever wanted.”

Well halle-fucking-lujah.

“Then why did you leave?” I asked her softly.

Her shoulders dropped and she exhaled a deep breath. “Are you ever going to forget about the past? Just let it go?”

“Are you?” I stared her down, letting her absorb that. “When are you ever gonna let me in? I’m not the enemy, Jessa.”

She nodded a little, but looked away. When she looked back, there was pain in her brown eyes. “You said you’d never hurt me.”

I reached for her, slipping my hands around the back of her head and drawing her in close. “When did I hurt you?” I asked her, holding her in my hands like she was precious, because she was. “Tell me when, so I can fix it.”

She sniffed a bit, resisting the tears that were coming, fast. “You said you were done with me.”

“Yeah,” I said, stroking my thumb back and forth across her cheek. “Obviously I was wrong.” I held her gaze for a long moment, letting her feel those words. Wanting to erase whatever hurt I’d caused. Then I leaned in to kiss her.

“You let me go,” she blurted, just as my lips touched hers.

I drew back and looked at her.

“Back then…” She sniffed again. “I ran. I know. But you let me.” She closed her eyes and the tears spilled down her face. “You let me go,” she repeated. “You didn’t fight for me.”

“What?”

“I know you asked me to stay. Many times. And I know it’s totally irrational of me… but there’s some small, stubborn part of me that still hurts because you didn’t come after me. You didn’t tear apart heaven and Earth to get me back. And I need to know… I need to know that there isn’t some small part of you that won’t fight for me in the future, if things get tough.”

I pulled her against me, holding her tight. She buried her face in my chest.

“Jessa…” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “I never wanted you to go. I wanted you to stay. I just… I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you… fuck… I don’t even know anymore. It just seemed like every time I tried to fight, I just pushed you further away. And I didn’t want to lose you.” My voice broke and I nuzzled into her hair as I held her tighter. “I lost you anyway.”

“You didn’t lose me, Brody,” she whispered. “I was always yours.”