Take Me with You (Take Me #2)(32)

My best bet was to wait. I ignored Miller’s curious and worried text messages asking me where I was and wondering if I was going to go back to Princeton tonight.

I told myself Henry would come downstairs. I told myself that same f*cking phrase so often that I almost believed it.

But after four solid hours of nothing, I realized the truth. Henry wasn’t leaving. Ari wasn’t coming downstairs.

And I was a motherf*cking idiot for hoping…for trying.

Rachel gave me a sad look and a farewell wave as I stood, but she had never changed her stance. I left The Kimberly Hotel, feeling like a steamroller had flattened me. The doorman was still there. He asked me how my hand was, but I waved him off with it. Who cared how my hand was when the rest of me had been blown to smithereens?

When I never returned to Beacon Theatre, Miller had texted me the address to the hotel the band had gotten for the night. It was surprisingly easy to get to, and since Miller had left my name at the front, it was even easier to get a key from the woman at the desk. As I plucked the card out of her hand, I felt utter disdain for the bitch who had refused to let me up to see Ari.

Sliding the card into the slot, I pushed open the door and found Vin and McAvoy passed out and snoring. Miller looked exhausted, but it was clear that he had been waiting for me.

“What happened, bro? You look like shit,” Miller said.

“I feel like shit.”

I ran a shaky hand back through my hair. Maybe I was in f*cking shock.

“You and Ari okay?”

“I never f*cking saw her.”

Miller’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve been there the whole time and didn’t even talk to her? I thought you guys were arguing or some shit.”

“No. I couldn’t get up to her, and she didn’t answer her phone. She left with Henry, he went up with her, and he never left. In four hours, he never left. So, the f*cker is staying the night…with my girl.”

“Nothing happened.”

“How the f*ck do you know?” I asked, kicking off my shoes and wishing for something to take the edge off.

“Because she loves you.”

“Yeah. You feel that way about Sydney, and you’re f*cking around on her.”

Miller glared at me. “Don’t f*cking bring Sydney into this situation. You know she doesn’t want anything serious, and Ari does. Completely different people.”

“Fine,” I grumbled. I was too mentally and emotionally exhausted to argue. My heart was shredded. I just wanted everything to go back to the way it was before.

“Talk to her when you get home. Things will be fine.”

“She’s not going to be able to handle the road, bro. She doesn’t even like the League, and you and I both know the scene on the road is going to be so much f*cking worse than that.”

“You don’t know what she can and can’t handle. Maybe she can’t,” he said quickly when I glared at him. “But…maybe she can. Give her a f*cking chance. She won’t need to worry about life on tour if you can show her there’s no reason to worry.”

“Yeah, man, and how the f*ck do I do that?”

He shrugged. “You’ll figure it out.”

I clenched my fists, and pain rushed through me again. “If she f*cked that other dude, I’ll f*cking murder him.”

“Ari isn’t f*cking anyone but you. As soon as you realize that, you’ll be f*cking solid, man.”

Miller turned over and closed his eyes. He was out like a light, leaving me all alone to think about what he had said.

I just needed to trust Ari, yet all I could see was the anger in her eyes and the blinding madness she drove me to. How could we make something like that work?

How had everything spiraled so far out of control?

One minute, Grant and I would be happy. The next, we would be arguing. We’d talk and figure things out, and it’d seem that everything was all right again between us. Then, everything would fall apart.

How could loving someone hurt this bad?

All I wanted to do was make things right, but I wouldn’t make the first move. I couldn’t swallow my pride and go to him. He was the one who was in the wrong. Nothing was happening between Henry and me, and I certainly wasn’t stalking Grant to find out about what had happened with Pacific.

He didn’t trust me. He didn’t trust that we could get through this together. It was a blow, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt.

It hurt like a bitch.

The next morning, while I was on my way to have breakfast with my father, I saw the missed calls from Grant, but I couldn’t bring myself to return the messages. I had told him to come talk to me when he figured out his problem, but I wasn’t ready to talk to him. I was still mad. I needed more time to cool off, or we would keep repeating the same disastrous mistakes over and over again.

I knew he would call me again when he was ready.

Except he didn’t.

Not that day or the next or the next.

I hadn’t heard one word from Grant in three whole days.

When I woke up the next morning, the day of my birthday, I was struck with all this hope that things would be different today. Grant would show up at my apartment and wish me a happy birthday. We’d fall into bed together, the memories of our argument drifting from our minds with the feel of our bodies pressed together. I’d cry out his name, feel release wash over me, and know I hadn’t made a horrible mistake in walking out of the theater and refusing to return his calls the next day.