Thorned Heart (Cash Me Outside 2)

Chapter Six

Seb

“Where is he?” I growl.

I’ve been standing by the front window for an hour, freaking out that Thorne isn’t coming back.

Both rented cars are still in the drive, and it’s below freezing out there.

“What’s going on?” Jasper yawns as he comes down the stairs from his fuckfest and nap.

“Thorne went for a walk,” Cash says from where he’s been watching me on the couch in front of the fireplace. Locke is using Cash’s lap as a pillow while he reads a book, and neither of them care Thorne could be dead for all we know.

“In the snow?” Jasper asks.

“Two hours ago,” I point out. “He’s probably frozen out there. Literally. Or lost. When he said he was going for a walk, I thought he’d be back in fifteen minutes. Who goes out into the snow for this long?”

“He’s a grown-ass adult,” Jasper says. “Why do you care?”

Why do I care?

“Because your manager is totally in love with your lead guitarist,” Andrew says from his spot on the single armchair. “And I’m totally convinced it’s reciprocated.”

“It’s not,” I grunt and go back to watching outside and hoping for a miracle that Thorne will appear.

Andrew doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

Thorne’s a good manager, and he knows how to deal with the band’s shit. Just because I have a fuzzy warm sensation toward him doesn’t mean I have actual feelings. I’m probably projecting daddy issues on him because he takes care of us.

That’s his fault for being a decent guy.

“Seb’s feeling guilty for letting him storm off in a jealous rage,” Andrew says.

Why did I bring him here again? I don’t like that he’s so … right.

I want to dismiss the worry in my gut for exactly that—guilt over Thorne disappearing—but there’s a voice screaming in the back of my head yelling that it’s so much more than that.

I don’t know why this recent scandal has me looking at him differently.

Because he stayed in my bed and held me?

There has to be some sort of psychological explanation for it. Like I’m holding on to the sense of security he brought me and building it into something it’s not.

Then I think about where he is now, what he’s doing out there in the cold, and I can’t help but worry I could lose him. And that thought? The idea of him not being in my life hurts way more than anything else I’ve ever experienced.

I know that means something.

What if he’s lost? What if he fell and sprained an ankle and can’t get back?

“Thorne is not in love with Seb,” Cash says. “Thorne’s straight.”

Andrew scoffs. “You’re as oblivious as Seb.”

Cash purses his lips. “He was in your bed the other morning.”

I tear my gaze away from the blinding whiteness of outside. “Because he crashed out after doing damage control. Nothing happened.”

Locke sits up. “Uh, I have to side with Lemon on this one. I see the way he looks at you when you’re onstage. I stand by him at nearly every show. Trust me. He’s either in love with you or your guitar, and I doubt someone as put together as Thorne would have a thing for inanimate objects.”

I look at my best friend for answers. “It can’t be true, can it?”

I want it to be. More than I thought I would. But … I still can’t accept that it’s real because I can’t allow myself to contemplate the possibility. It’s a risk my heart might not be able to take.

What if I’m so desperate for what Cash and Locke have that the idea of Thorne being in love with me is appealing because I know him, I like him, and he’s there.

Well, actually, no, he’s not there. He’s outside in the fucking cold.

“Told you,” Andrew sings. “Totally reciprocated.”

“This isn’t a face of love.” I scowl. “This is the face of worry because he’s been outside for way too long, and I don’t want him to die.”

“Because you love him.” Andrew lifts his chin. Smug bastard.

“Shut up. You love him.” My argument makes no sense, but I don’t care.

Cash bursts out laughing. “I think the stripper is right.”

I throw up my hands. “Fuck this. If none of you are going to worry about him, I’ll go find him. Where are the car keys?”

“Do you even know how to drive in snow?” Cash asks.

“It can’t be that hard.”

I have to do something.

I search through the drawers of the small table in the foyer, but they’re empty. The coat closet is next. Frantically, I search through the coats on the rack, looking for Jasper’s or Greg’s, whoever drove the other car because Thorne has his on him.

Maybe he has the keys.

“Damn it!” Now I’m just throwing the coats everywhere.

“Seb.” Cash’s calm voice comes from right behind me.

“I need the keys,” I say.

“Seb,” Cash says again and gently grabs my arm.