Shattered Dreams (Boys of Bellerose, #3)(30)

“I couldn’t agree more,” he snapped back. “We don’t even have a complete band anymore, and I for one refuse to let Big Noise assign a random bassist to take Flo’s place.”

Ugh, just the suggestion of that made my blood boil.

“Why would they do this?” I asked in a harsh whisper, ducking my head low when the receptionist eyed me curiously. “This makes no sense. After the bomb?”

“I don’t know, bro. I don’t fucking know. Brenda is on her way over here now; I seriously hope she has answers because I’m at a loss.” He sighed in exhaustion, whispering curses on his exhale.

I glanced at my watch. Billie still had half an hour left in her session, but I could interrupt. “We’ll be right back.”

“No,” Jace snapped. “Let Billie finish her session. She needs it. This can wait. Just… take care of her first, and this will all sort itself out later.”

I wet my lips, tempted to comment further on that sentiment, but decided against it. “Okay,” I agreed instead. “Then we’ll be back in an hour. Get some answers out of Brenda in the meantime. And for the record? I’m not going on tour.”

“We’re on the same page, bro. Gray and I will handle it.” He ended the call, and I read the stupid fucking gossip post again. And again. Who was this asshole, and where were they getting this information?

I just had to hope this one—unlike the rest—was pure fiction. My gut told me it wasn’t.





thirteen





BILLIE


Therapy went so much better when I wasn’t being a snarky, oppositional bitch. Who would have thought it? “I’m so proud of how far you’ve come in a week, Billie,” Dr. Candace said as she walked me to the door. “Your willingness to open up to me will make all the difference. I’ll see you next week.”

“See you next week,” I agreed, already somewhat looking forward to it.

When I emerged into the waiting area, Rhett was standing near the door as if he was ready to get out of here. Did this place make him nervous? I hoped not because I was still figuring out how to subtly suggest he give therapy a go. Even if it wasn’t with Dr. Candace.

“Ready to go, Thorn?” he asked, expression tense.

I nodded. “Yep, definitely. Is everything okay?” In our world, it was worth asking that question. Even if most of the time I didn’t enjoy the answer.

“Nope,” he said swiftly. “I’ll tell you in the car.”

My chest grew tight, and my stomach swirled in the same instant. Nothing was worse for anxiety than having to wait for the bad news to drop. “Everyone’s alive, right?” I whispered in a rush as I linked my arm through his. The receptionist called her goodbyes, but we were already out the door, Rhett rushing us along. His security hurried to get in front of us, and I had completely forgotten we had them with us until they fell into their usual positions on either side and slightly in front of us.

“Alive and well,” he put me out of my misery. “It’s band shit again.”

Some of my panic died out. Not all of it, of course, because Bellerose was a pretty huge part of all their lives and that made it a huge part of mine now. Ironically.

I was the one who picked up the pace this time, hurrying us to our parking spot, and as Rhett held the door open for me, I all but dove into the passenger seat. Rhett’s grim features softened a touch as he smiled. It was a nice smile. But there was no time to fall into him like I wanted to. Nope. I needed answers.

As soon as we were buckled in, security in their car behind, Rhett pulled out of the parking lot. I turned in my seat. “Spill.”

He chuckled, and that eased just a little more tension. No one would laugh if it was really serious, right? “There’s a new Dirty Truths post. Stating that we’re going back on tour. Which is completely fucked up, considering what happened to Florence not even three weeks ago.”

“Didn’t you finish the last tour?” I asked, confused.

“We finished the North American leg of it,” Rhett said. “But we had a whole bunch of international shows throughout the UK and Europe that were postponed indefinitely when you were kidnapped. Then with Flo’s death, we decided to cancel. Tickets were refunded and everything. Or so we were told.”

Relaxing into the seat, I stared out the front window, watching the icy landscape go by. “Who the fuck runs Dirty Truths? I mean, they seem to have more insight into our lives than we do. How are they always one step ahead or, at minimum, on the same step as we are?”

Rhett’s fingers flexed on the wheel before he released a long breath. “We’ve been preoccupied with the other serious shit happening, but maybe it’s time for us to show a little interest in Dirty Truths. Apply a little pressure to figure out who is running it.”

“Grayson would be a good option,” I suggested. Before reconsidering. “Actually, he already has too much to deal with, so maybe someone else.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Rhett told me, taking another sharp turn that put us on the road to Grayson’s. “In the meantime, we need to address this tour with Brenda and Big Noise. There’s no fucking way we can head overseas with everything happening, and I’m more than happy to reiterate that loud and clear when we have our meeting.”