Consumed (Devoured, #2)(65)

“I killed him,” she said, pinching the end of her nose to try to hold back her tears. She didn’t succeed, and they fell freely down her face. “I met him through one of my friends. But he just . . . he wasn’t you, you know? And then I found out you were seeing Priscilla, and I lost it. I lost it, and I asked him to mess with her. Shake her up some.”

She got up from her seat then, and when she returned, she was lighting a cigarette.

“I was with him the night you fought in the parking lot.” She looked straight into the camera. “And after you went back inside that bar I hit him with the tire iron from the back of his car.”

After that she never explains why she killed Bryce, or why she let me believe that I was the one who did. She only says that she’s sorry. That she screwed up. And that she would fix things.

And in the end, Sam did what she said she’d do when she turned herself in. She’d given her statement. She’d given the cops the wallet she’d taken from Bryce Roberts the night of his murder. And then she’d waived her right to an attorney.

And by the time I found all of this out right before the Nashville show—because I was listed as her next of kin—she was already gone, and I was left piecing together the truths to the lies she had let me believe.

In life, Sam had been a brief part of the band’s history—the woman who was married to Lucas Wolfe before he hit it big. But in death, somehow she overshadowed every woman I’d ever been with, including Sienna.





Lucas

November





What the f*ck do you do when you find out that the secrets that you buried, the lies that you paid to cover up, were just that? Lies.

Do you linger in the past; holding on to those f*cked-up regrets, wishing you could change things?

Or do you move forward?


I decide to do both.

It’s not Samantha who has to live with what she did to Bryce—it’s me having to face that I lived for four goddamn years thinking I was a monster and pushing away the woman who wanted to bring me out of those shadows.

The fact that she’s here with me tonight is a miracle.

“You look like sin, Red,” I murmur, looking up at her reflection as she comes up behind me. She’s wearing a tiny black dress that I think should be on my dressing room floor instead of her body, and heels that make her legs go on for days.

“The best kind.” Her hair falls around me as she drapes her bare arms over my shoulders and wraps me up tightly, like she doesn’t want to let go. “Last show.” Her clear blue eyes find mine in the mirror, and she takes a long, deep breath. “Are you ready, Mr. Wolfe?”

Reaching back, I ravel her hair around my fingers before I turn my head and find her mouth. I devour her. And she consumes me. This is the only way it will work.

When I pull her away, watching in amazement at the way she’s looking at me, I offer her a grin. “Sinjin will break my fingers with his drumsticks if I’m not ready.” Zoe is supposed to show tonight, and he’s hell bent on impressing her.

“Then you should probably let go of my hair,” Sienna suggests, and when I do, she flips it over one of her shoulders. “Do I look presentable?”

“You look like you should be naked on that couch over there.” I jab my finger at the narrow piece of furniture across the room, but then shake my head. “But yes, you’re the best thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. The best thing for me, period.”

“And then you have to say stuff like that.” She takes a few steps backwards. “I’ll see you after the show.” Her gaze remains locked with mine as she backs out of the room, and I don’t turn back around until after she’s gone.

I stare at myself in the mirror. Lucas-Fucking-Wolfe. I stare at the man I was and am, and the one I want to be with her. Then, I get up and leave the dressing room, too.

Cal and Wyatt are mulling around the backstage hallway, with Wyatt talking shit about my sister’s friend Heidi leaving Cal tied up somewhere a week ago. When Cal sees me, he runs his hand over his face in embarrassment and directs his eyes down to the gray concrete floor.

“You got something to add?” he finally challenges.

“Only that I wish she’d left you in public like that.” When he mouths a “f*ck you” I grin and shrug it off. “Sin and I’ve got 500 bucks on who’ll come out of this thing with Heidi ahead.”

As I take off down the hall to the stage entrance, Cal calls after me, “So which one of us are you betting on?”

“My money’s always been on Heidi,” I say before ducking through the backstage exit.

What do you do when all your secrets come to light, just to be buried again?

You keep f*cking playing.

Even though I already know the rescheduled Los Angeles show is sold out, there’s still no denying the amazed satisfaction of knowing that thousands of people have dragged their asses out here tonight to see my band. Still, through the screams and the music blaring around me, and thousands of faces, only one stands out to me in the crowd. Sienna’s sitting between my sister and her friend Tori in one of the floor seats closest to the stage, beaming up at me.

As Cal kicks off the show with “All Over You,” her lips move. I can’t read them, but it doesn’t stop me from murmuring into the mic, “I love you, too.” The crowd goes wild, and I give them a cocky grin before I open my mouth to perform.