Devoured: A Novel(49)

“So what do we do?” I ask.

“God, I wish I could tell you. But I’m sorry, Sienna. I shouldn’t have ever spoken to you like that. I-I love you.”

“Holy shit, are we having a creepy talking card moment?” I ask, and he laughs.

When he finally stops, his tone of voice turns serious. “Can you tell me what you’re doing with Wolfe? Please?”

“It’s best I don’t,” I say honestly.

“Well then, let me ask you this: Does it have something to do with the house?”

“Yes.”

And no. It started out as having everything to do with the house and now . . . I’m not entirely positive what it is anymore. The only thing I do know is that no matter how happy I pretend I am in five days, I’ll be dying inside because I’ll have to let this go.

I’ll have to let Lucas go.

I’m sure my brother’s mind has gone to the worst possible assumptions but after he clears his throat a couple times, he says, “Then I’m sure you’ve got a good ass reason for what you’re doing.”

It’s the closest thing to an acceptance that I’m probably going to get from my brother, but for now it works. I have a feeling that in order for Seth and me to really get all of our feelings out on the table, we’re going to have to do it in front of our mother.

And when that happens, we’ll go ahead and take Gram along for the ride too. That way Mom can finally explain to us why she convinced Gram to take out a six-figure loan on her house to bail her out of jail just to turn around and skip town.

It will be a good old family reunion, complete with tears and hatred.

?



Lucas comes in while I’m answering his fan mail, looking absolutely exhausted. I feel awkward asking him anything about Sinjin, so I don’t keep him in the little downstairs office for long. An hour after he arrives, though, he messages me to come upstairs to the main office.

I’m at a genuine loss for words as I linger by the door, my fingers gripping the elaborate crown molding as I wait for him to say something, anything at all.

He stands, coming around to the front of the desk and motions me forward. I go to him but leave a foot of space between ourselves. “Sin’s agreed to go back to rehab,” he says.

I can still see the wild look in Sinjin’s eyes when he came after me. Honestly, I don’t think he was sober enough to hit his mark, but it was still terrifying to think about him being high enough to try and hurt me. “I’m so glad. D-do you think . . . he’ll be alright?” I whisper.

Leaning his tall body to the desk, Lucas shrugs, frustrated. “He’s been before. Every time we gear up for a tour or an album. And it’s prescription now, so who the f*ck knows.”

My chest clenches painfully, and I bring my hands up to my mouth. “God, Lucas. Ugh, I’m so very sorry,” I say. And this is why I hate drugs and the people who dole them out like Skittles. They tear families into a million pieces, and Sinjin is like a brother to Lucas. They’ve been making music together for ten years, since they were eighteen, and were friends long before that.

I don’t want this to be the end of their relationship.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, Sienna. For whatever he said to you. For putting you in such a f*cked up situation to begin with—Kylie warned me he was back on the pills but I didn’t want to listen.”

“He’s your best friend,” I point out. “And he needs a lot of help.”

Tentatively, as if he’s still unsure of whether or not he should still take my invitation to touch me to heart, he lifts my hands up, pressing them between his. Closing his eyes, he touches my fingers to his lips and kisses them softly. “He is. He’s my oldest friend, but I wanted to rip him to f*cking shreds when I found out he was out there with you alone.”

“Really, he didn’t say anything that bothered me,” I lie. “And besides, I’m us—”

“If you say that you’re used to people treating you like that I swear to God I’ll bend you over this desk and keep my promise with the drumsticks.”

My breath catches, and he squeezes my hands a little harder, a little more desperately. “I called my brother earlier,” I whisper, dragging my hands away from his and sliding them down the front of his body.

“Stop,” he warns as he grabs my wrists. His lips are inches away from my lips. I stretch my neck up to touch them but he moves his head a fraction.