Consumed (Devoured, #2)(9)

“What the f*ck have you done to me?” Lucas drags me to him, burying his face into my hair, breathing me in. “I’ve never cared about goodbyes and then you come along and make me need you.”

I swallow, trying to push down the tightness building up in my throat. I don’t want to be a big baby and cry, especially since I know that this isn’t it between us. Still, goodbyes are painful—they rip into you and tear you apart no matter how long they actually last. “I love you.”

He looks me in the eye. “Come on tour with me, even if it’s just for a few cities.”

And I think it’s because I hate goodbyes so much that I nod and say, “I’ll give you an answer by the end of this weekend.”

We kiss then, like it’s for the last time, though there’s a good chance I’ll be with him for nearly two months on the road. By the time I board my flight forty-five minutes later, though, I have a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

We couldn’t even last 10 days with each other before.

As I take my seat near the middle of the plane, I shove the negative thoughts from my mind. I refuse to let it screw up the way I’m feeling after my time with Lucas.

To my surprise, my brother is actually at the airport on time to pick me up when my flight touches down in Nashville. Seth greets me at the baggage claim grinning like an idiot, dressed in his usual attire of cargo shorts, bright boat shoes, and Polo shirt.

“You look surprised,” he says.

“You look incredibly . . . Chuck Bass.” When he gives me a look of confusion, I continue, “Didn’t think you got my text.” I’d sent him a message early this morning asking him to pick me up, but he never answered.

Four and a half years younger than me, my nineteen-year-old brother is notorious for not picking up his phone. “Do I ever let you down?” Seth asks.

I snort and lean over to grab my oversized bag off the conveyor belt, but he immediately steps in and plucks my luggage out of my hands, slinging it over his shoulders. He wiggles his light brown eyebrows. “I was busy when you texted but next time I’ll make sure to stop just to let you know I’m on my way, deal?”

My nose wrinkles at the thought “Seriously? You have to tell me that?” He grins as I move my head from side to side. “Thanks for making the conversation totally awkward.”

“Anytime I can make shit weird for you, Si.”

Seth’s Dodge Ram pickup truck is surprisingly void of its usual collection of Burger King bags and old mail when I climb inside of it ten minutes later in the short-term parking lot. I sniff a few times. A wintergreen air freshener

“So . . . is she nice?” I ask as he starts the engine. She must be if he took the initiative to clean his truck.

“Nice enough. Maybe I’ll, you know, bring her to meet you and Gram if things work out.” He merges onto I-40. “I think you’ll like her.”

I turn on the radio, which is tuned to a station I know he hates. The sound of The *cat Dolls blasts through the truck for about ten seconds before I jab another button, switching to a rock station that’s in the middle of airing an add for a local car dealership’s Christmas in July sale. “This is serious. You’ve given her control of your radio.”

“Don’t be such a nosy ass.” After he switches lanes, he looks over at me, his brown eyes searching. “So . . . you went on a work trip to Knoxville? Why didn’t you just drive?”

“Now who’s being nosy?” I counter. Seth isn’t exactly Lucas’s biggest supporter, mainly because of the dilemma with Gram’s house earlier this year. I take a deep breath before saying in a sugary voice, “But yes, something like that. The front-man of Your Toxic Sequel has asked me to be his personal wardrobe consultant during their national tour.” My words sound so professional and rehearsed I’m sure my expression is just as surprised as Seth’s.

“Damn, that’s awesome, their new music—” he begins, but then he pauses and frowns. “Wait, that’s Wolfe’s band, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. And?”

Seth’s top lip curls. “And that son of a bitch is the front-man. You told him to f*ck off, right?”

“No.” My voice exudes confidence that’s impossible for me to feel at the moment. “I didn’t. I haven’t given him an answer, actually.”

“Jesus, Sienna, don’t you—” he starts, but I hold up a hand to cut him off.

“If you start with your preaching, I will kick your ass. Let me take care of myself, okay?” When he starts to protest me again, I continue, “And besides, working for this band would be killer for my resume.”

I don’t add that it’s already on my resume from when I worked with them two and a half years ago.

“So you definitely haven’t said yes yet or signed any contract?”

I shiver, thinking of the last contract I signed for Lucas, and then I shake my head.

His brown eyes dart up in relief. “Good. I don’t want him screwing you over.”

Neither do I. Even after the amazing days I spent with Lucas, I won’t ever be able to forget all the crap that’s happened between us. Not completely, at least. To my brother, though, I smile brightly and say, “If I say I’ll go, I’ll be fine. I swear.”