“What?” Jay pushed Grip aside to get in Abel’s face. “I just told half the country, half the world I’m in love with Evie. She’s extraordinary. Everyone should know that. And they would if you weren’t holding her back.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Abel said.
“She is always there for you. Doing a thousand little things you don’t pay for and never notice. She puts you guys and the band first over everything else in her life. You don’t deserve her.”
Abel’s head jerked back at that, but he jabbed a finger in Jay’s chest. “We never asked her to. Whatever she does for us is her choice,” he said.
He knocked Abel’s hand away. “You fuckers. You don’t have to ask. You’re family. She’s been there for you her whole life. Are you jealous of your own sister? She’s twice the songwriter you are. Wasn’t enough I played with you, out there every night, you have to tear Evie down.”
Abel shoved him again. “You don’t fucking get it.”
Jay shoved him back. “What the fuck is this about then?”
“It’s about what Evie chooses, you entitled motherfuck.”
Evie wanted music in her life. She was happy. She was excited to write again. He could see it in her. He didn’t have to be told. “She—”
“Never wanted to be on stage. Never wanted to be a star,” Abel said.
Oscar sneered. “But you can’t handle that.”
Jay rounded on Oscar. “I’m the problem?”
“Yes, you fuck,” Oscar said.
“You quit on us, that was one thing. You quit on Evie, you changed her, man. She wasn’t the same. And now you’re using her, and it will fuck her up all over again,” Isaac said.
Using her. “The fuck I am. I want the world for Evie.”
“No. You want your world for her, and in your world it’s all about the money and fame,” Abel said.
Oh, fuck that. He lurched forward, going for Abel, but not fast enough to get away from Grip’s restraint. “That’s not—”
“You’re fucking not good enough for her,” Abel shouted.
“Lost Property would be history if Evie wasn’t peace-keeping for you,” Jay yelled and nothing Grip could do was going to prevent him taking Abel down. He didn’t fight for Evie the first time, he wouldn’t make that mistake again.
He broke Grip’s hold and crashed into Abel and everything got close and hard, hot and loud. You could smell the anger and taste the vitriol, and security were in the mix pulling everyone apart. And when there was distance between them, when there were reddened jaws and aching hands and they were all breathing like heart attacks and waiting for a chance to have at each other again, there was Evie.
She said his name and her voice dripped ice and he knew.
Wrongness curled in his gut, displacing the rage.
A wizard had once warned him never to make decisions for someone else.
He didn’t have to have it beaten into him. He only had to look at her, body held rigidly, expression frozen into a bland winter, to know he’d fucked up.
“Evie, I—”
“You made a decision for me once and you’ve done it again. I might’ve forgiven a different mistake.” She shook her head. “You know . . .” She looked away. “You know what hurts the most?”
“Let’s talk about this alone.” Where he could touch her cold anger and make it his own pain. Where no one else had to witness his soul curdling.
“I don’t want to be alone with you,” she said, ice crystals tinkling in her voice. Slipping. She was slipping away.
“You don’t even have to speak to this fuckhead,” Oscar said. He went to shoot his mouth off again and Evie silenced him with a glance.
Jay felt the frost in her as a blade though his side. “I can—”