Chapter 40

Axton

The sound of the door is almost like thunder in my ears. I rush to the rental car, knowing if I don’t get out of there, I’ll only turn around and harass her to stay until she is forced to either grab a cab to get away or call the police.

Each step I take, each foot of distance I put between us, allows realization to settle in my bones.

“She just needs a little time,” I assure myself as I crank the car.

“Goodbye in Her Eyes” by Zac Brown Band blares on the local country station when the car turns over, as if I needed the horrific omen at a time like this.

The clock on the dash tells me I have just over an hour and a half before I’m expected to be on stage for rehearsal. My morning went from the need to make my girl come on my tongue to begging for her to still let me be in her life. Now I have more time on my hands than I ever wanted. Driving out of the parking garage, I point the car in the direction of the arena, knowing a stop off at the liquor store is needed if I ever plan to make it through this day.

Twenty minutes later, and in possession of two bottles of whiskey, I’m parked in the private lot at the arena. I stare at the venue as I twist the top off the first bottle. My music, my dream, the only thing I could imagine myself doing with my life for the longest time, has turned into my worst nightmare.

I wallow in self-pity and my bad decisions as I swig the liquor until it no longer burns my throat, my eyes growing hazy from the consumption. My phone buzzes from the passenger seat, but Carson, who I blame more than myself, is the last fucking person I want to talk to right now. It never rings with a call from Addi, and her silence is deafening.

Banging on my window goes ignored as I lean my head back and try, through the cloudy thoughts taking over my mind, to figure out exactly what I can do to make all of this better. The banging continues, and I gear myself to tell the asshole security guard I have a pass and I’m not just trying to get free parking before the concert.

When I roll my head on the headrest, my best friend’s exasperated face comes into view. My rage boils over and I step out, ignoring the near empty bottle of whiskey as it falls and shatters on the asphalt.

“Just like my fucking life,” I mumble as I close the door behind me. “The fuck are you doing here?”

I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s only two hours from home. If I’d actually taken a second to think of him during the last twenty-four hours, I would’ve realized he’d be here.

“Apparently coming to find your ass since you’re fifteen minutes late for rehearsal. Laci’s band manager isn’t going to put up with this shit.”

“Always so fucking helpful,” I spit, literally, then watch as he wipes my spittle from his chin with odd fascination. “I think you’ve fucking helped enough. How the hell did you find me?”

I look around the parking lot, filled to nearly half its capacity, which had to have happened while I was zoning out in the car.

“The damn Find a Friend app I had you put on your phone two years ago when you called me so drunk you couldn’t tell me where the fuck you were.” His anger is growing exponentially as I lean against the car. “I take it your visit with Adelaide didn’t go the way you planned.”

I shove at him, moving him back several feet. “It was fucking perfect until the lies you spread came back and bit me on the ass.”

“Lies? Just how fucking drunk are you? It’s three in the goddamn afternoon, Axton. This is no fucking way to start this tour.”

“She was never dating Marcus,” I inform him, so angry my words slur.

“Okay. Maybe not. If you think back, I said I saw them out, not that they were all over each other.”

“I fucked that waitress!” I scream. “Right after you told me that, and several women after that. I was all back to my old fucked up self after you shared that little bit of news.”

“And she’s upset about that? She can’t really be mad. You guys weren’t together.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter. She doesn’t care. All she can picture is me fucking other women while on tour.” I seethe for a long moment before giving him more. “She’s probably packing her shit and leaving the hotel suite. I’ll never get another chance.”

“You’ve been hard up for this girl for the last eight months and it’s gone nowhere. You need to get it into your fucking head that you don’t have a future with her.”

I punch him, landing a sloppy fist to his jaw.

When he bends at the waist, holding his face, I almost give into the urge to knee him in the nose. Instead, I lean in close to his ear to share the last words I ever intend on saying to him.

“I spent last night in her arms, motherfucker. In her. And by telling me half truths about that other asshole, you’ve destroyed my life—ruined any chance I have at the only future I want.” Straightening, I look toward the back of the venue as a pudgy security guard starts making his way over to us. “Don’t bother trying to get inside. I’m having your pass revoked. I never want to see you again. You’re fucking fired.”

I shove past him and don’t say a word to the security guard as I hold up my pass and leave him to deal with Carson.

The whole time I’m on stage, tearing apart every song I’ve ever written, I convince myself lying to her would have been better. If I had, I would still have her, have the chance to prove to her every day of my life she’s the only woman who exists in my eyes.

The realization that she still wouldn’t have believed me is what leads to the second bottle of whiskey between practice and the show. Brutal is an understatement when describing my very first performance on the Devine Intervention Tour. Thank fuck for the band and the acoustics in the arena. Without them, I’m certain I would’ve been booed off the stage and run out of Atlanta for good.

A slow clap draws my attention as I leave the stage after my set. I’m a second away from ripping some asshole’s head off, but my eyes find Laci Devine standing in the shadows. Shitting on the boss after a totally fucked up set is the best way to get kicked off the tour. I consider it for a long moment before I open my mouth.

“Ms. Devine,” I say, still unsteady on my feet, but more sober than I want to feel after sweating under the hot lights on stage.

“Don’t give me that Ms. Devine bullshit.” She holds her hand out for me to shake. “It’s just Laci.”

“Laci,” I offer, along with my hand.

She pulls back, waving her hand in front of her nose. “The liquor is seeping from your pores.”

“Had a rough day,” I say in explanation. “Won’t happen again.”

She steps closer, the look I expect after talking with Brock and Peter before leaving Easton Montgomery’s tour in her eye. My stomach turns sour at the attention.

“Let’s hope not,” she warns, but then her look softens. “But I get it. I think I did four lines before I was able to have the courage to step on stage at a sold out arena.”

I just nod. What else do you say to the female role model of hundreds of thousands of teen girls when she admits to using cocaine to get through a performance?

“Will you be at the after party? It’s the wildest when a tour first kicks off.”

I shake my head, even though I know the hotel will be empty when I get back. Addi’s seat was quickly filled by someone else while I was on stage. I don’t know what’s worse, seeing someone else in her seat or glancing out and seeing it empty the entire set.

“So, just back to my room then?” She gnaws on the corner of her lip seductively, so sure of my answer.

“Not this time, darlin’,” I drawl. “Maybe at the next stop. Nice to meet you.”

“You may not get another chance,” she calls after me as I walk away.

“That’s okay, too,” I answer, disappearing down the hall toward the dressing room.

Carson, being the responsible asshole he is, has a car waiting for me when I leave. I accept the ride to the hotel, only because I’ve never been one to drink and drive, but I consider the rewards of wrapping my rental car around a tree when my suspicions are confirmed as I open the door to the empty suite.

Self-destruction in three...two…one.