Shattered Dreams (Boys of Bellerose, #3)(47)
Okay, it was more than just an impression. She pretty much said that word for word, which made me grumble about how being a mature adult was overrated.
Comfortingly, though, she validated the fact that I didn’t have to hear him out. That my hurt feelings were totally okay, and no one needed to push me into dealing with him until I was good and ready. The sentiment reminded me of how patient and calm Grayson had been when I’d told him never to talk to me again. If I’d been dealing with Jace, he would have hit me over the head, tied me up, and forced me to hear his side whether I wanted to or not.
Grayson wasn’t so hotheaded or insecure. He had a confidence that made me uneasy… because a guilty man wouldn’t have that. Would he?
After my session I opted to stay at the hotel and watch movies that night rather than hang out with the band during their rehearsal at the concert venue. Vee stayed with me, and we made it crystal clear that we wouldn’t leave the room, let alone the hotel. Security was thicker than on the last tour, and I was well aware it was Brenda’s doing. She wasn’t taking chances with our safety, since she couldn’t stop the tour entirely, and I appreciated that.
Rather than sharing with Rhett like usual, I shared a room with Vee that night. I needed space to breathe and reflect, but neither Vee nor I particularly liked the idea of being totally alone. So Rhett had organized us a room with two queen beds and sent up room service with popcorn, candy, and sodas while they were at rehearsal.
“He’s a keeper, that one,” Vee commented, reading the little note that had accompanied our snacks. “‘Enjoy the movies, Thorn. You know where I’m sleeping if you need late-night snuggles.’ Winky-face.” She smirked. “Is that code for sex?”
I chuckled, shrugging. “Who knows with Rhett.” But I was mostly joking. I knew what he meant. “Rhett also struggles with nightmares,” I told her in a more serious tone. “Or more like he just can’t go to sleep in the first place.”
Vee’s lips twisted in sympathy. “That sucks. Trauma response?”
“I think so,” I agreed. “He doesn’t talk much about his past, but from the little bits the guys have said, I think he conditioned himself never to sleep deeply, like he was constantly waiting for something awful to happen.”
Climbing onto her bed, my new friend gave a sad sigh. “That’s horrible. He always seems like such an easygoing, no-fucks-given kind of guy. Like a sexy, human golden retriever.”
I frowned slightly. He’d never come across like that to me. I’d always seen the pain in his eyes, the shadows at his back. I’d recognized him as a kindred spirit from our first meeting, and he’d joked in the past that we must have known each other in a different life. It really did feel like that, but it was likely just our common damage putting us on the same wavelength.
“Okay,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “If Rhett is a golden retriever—which I disagree with, by the way—then which animals does that make the rest of them?”
Vee made a show of thinking it through, then snapped her fingers. “Alright. Jace is a panther or some exotic kind of jungle cat. All sleek and pretty but with claws and teeth that would fuck you right up if you tried to boop his snoot.”
My laughter surprised me so much that I choked on the sip of soda I’d just taken. That description of Jace was shockingly appropriate. “Good one,” I croaked between coughs. “What about Angel?”
“Racoon,” she said without hesitation.
My eyes rounded. “Seriously?”
She nodded with conviction. “That man has the soul of a trash panda: adorable as fuck but scrappy and mean and will scratch your face off if you try to take shit away from him. Even when the things don’t belong to him in the first place.” She gave me a pointed look, and my cheeks heated.
My uncertain relationship with Angelo wasn’t something I was ready to talk about—and definitely not to his gorgeous, kindhearted wife. So in an attempt to keep the conversation light, I automatically just asked the next thing that came to mind. “Gray?”
Then I cringed. Just saying his name made me sour.
“King Kong,” Vee replied, oblivious to—or strategically ignoring—my mood shift. “Created for violence and destruction, built for killing, but with a heart of gold. He would do anything to protect his Ann Darrow, even if he only has the relationship skills of an overgrown ape.”
Wow. I dropped my gaze to the bedspread. “Fuck,” I whispered. “Now I’m crying again.” Tears ran down my cheeks, despite my efforts to hold them at bay, and Vee launched herself across the space to hug me.
“I’m sorry, Billie! Don’t cry. I was trying to be funny. I’m hopeless at this.” She petted my hair as she talked, and that brought a smile to my face.
“It’s fine, I’m fine; let’s just talk about anything but Bellerose for a while. Have you been in touch with Giana at all?” I hadn’t forgotten her girlfriend, who’d been sent into hiding after Vee narrowly escaped her family.
She gave a sad shake of her head, returning to her own bed once more. “No. I wanted to, of course. When I saw the tour schedule, I thought maybe… But she’s safe right now, and I want her to stay that way, at least until things get worked out with the Riccis and my father. It’s just his style to have her raped and tortured to hurt me. I can’t risk that.”