Truth

br /> I let that linger in the air for a little while, the squeezing around my body lessening as each breath passed my lips. I was afraid to admit the rest. I was afraid to admit that the only time I ever truly felt alive was when I was up onstage, momentarily distracted from the shit show in my life. Because if I said it aloud, then it’d make it more real. That was why I kept everything regarding Angelina inside, buried so deep that no shovel in this world would be able to dig it up. I didn’t want it to be real. I didn’t want Angelina to be where she was—wherever the fuck that was. I didn’t want some version of the truth lingering in the air, causing me to wonder every second of every day what the hell was true and what wasn’t.

Did Angelina make everything up? Was this Lori woman she was supposedly with even real? I knew Angelina didn’t literally cut a fetus out of her stomach like she’d mumbled, but why did she say that?

The harshest thought popped up and almost made me double over—did she... abort it, in an attempt to hurt me? That one always got me. Every time. I never wanted to think she’d do something like that, but then again, I was certain I never truly knew her in the first place.

Slowly, I dissolved all the thoughts that were scattering in my brain and lowered my head to Brooklyn. She was peeping up at me with a determined look in her eye, almost as if she were proud of me.

I instantly wanted to throw up another wall.

“We’re going to get you back to that,” she whispered, taking one tiny step toward me. We were so close that our chests almost brushed along one another’s. I held my uneven breaths. “We’re going to get you back to feeling alive more than just onstage. We’re going to bring that life back into your writing. Do you understand me?”

I clenched my jaw tight, wondering how the fuck she knew exactly what I was feeling. How did she know that I felt lifeless the rest of the time? How did she know that the only time I was okay was when I was up onstage?

I continued to stare down at her. “And what do my shows make you feel?”

Brooklyn blinked once, then twice, then parted those soft-looking lips. “Excited.”

Something flicked on inside of me. I wasn’t sure if it was the fact that I felt vulnerable, or maybe it was the fact that I was inches away from a woman as honest as Brooklyn. The more time I spent around her, the more I realized that I had her all wrong. Brooklyn may have seemed sweet and timid on the outside, covered by those dainty dresses, but she was fiery, too. Passionate. She possessed a quiet beauty but had a crackling to her that screamed dangerous. Her body heat simmered all around us, and I was burning in more than just my chest. A hotness covered my skin.

She spoke quietly, but her words were loud. “It makes me excited to see someone put that much emotion into their music. To know you have that much feeling inside of you is mesmerizing.”

Brooklyn swallowed, and I darted my eyes down to her lips. Then, involuntarily, I moved my gaze over that same bare shoulder from the other night, the oversized sweater she was wearing dipping just low enough that I could see a tiny strap of fabric from her bra. I could feel the desire pooling in my veins. There was something so real about her, something so quiet yet daring. It might have been the way she didn’t care that I was who I was, or maybe it was the way she truly resembled an actual fire, silent yet flickering at just the right times, beautiful but threatening.

I quickly snapped my attention to the door as I heard Finn spew a line of cuss words before stomping closer to Brooklyn’s room. She hurriedly stepped away from me, shaking her head and smashing her lips together.

The knock was loud from behind my head, so I stepped back and opened her door, meeting Finn’s cold stare head on.

He was confused at first, pulling back just slightly. “What are you doing in here?” he demanded.

I raised an eyebrow. “Working on songs with Brooklyn.” Lie. I was getting caught up in Brooklyn, not working.

He scrutinized me for a few seconds before the glare on his face turned into a shit-eating grin. “Working on songs with Brooklyn? You mean, putting hot sauce in my fucking liquor bottles with Brooklyn?”

I heard a small giggle from behind me, and I couldn’t help it. My mouth started to turn upward, and that was when Finn dove onto me, wrapping his arms around my body and holding on tightly.

I mumbled, “What the fuck? Get off me.”

He only hugged me tighter as he yelled, “No!” His hot sauce slash rum breath caused me to groan.

Out of nowhere, Jackson came around the corner and slammed into us, also wrapping his long limbs around our embrace.

Brooklyn sounded from behind. “Wow… I mean, Reid did say that you guys have orgies. I just didn’t think it was with each other.”

I groaned again, trying to push my bandmates’ heavy weight off my body. “Why do you guys have a boner for me right now?”

Jackson was the first to let go, and then Finn followed. Finn looked over at me and cheesed. “It’s just nice to have the old Reid back, even if it’s just to put hot sauce in my little baby bottles.”

I rolled my eyes and huffed when both Jackson and Finn ran through the suite yelling, “Rod! We’re making Brooklyn a part of the band! She got Reid to fucking smile for once! He pulled the hot sauce trick again. He’s back!”

I turned around and looked at Brooklyn once, my eyes as intense as the feeling I had inside of me. I turned on my heel and walked to my own room, leaving her and my fucked-up desire alone.

I wasn’t back.

Not all the way, at least.

Chapter Twelve

Brooklyn