REGRET - The Price of Truth: Everhide Rockstar Romance Series Book 4

by Tania Joyce

  “Let me start the shower for you.” He wiped his thumb across her damp cheek, his touch so soft and delicate. “In this cold weather, you know it takes five minutes to warm up.”

  She sniffed and rubbed her nose. “Thank you. I’ll go get my pj’s.”

  “Okay.” Worry clouded his eyes. He turned back from the bathroom door. “Are you sure you’re all right? Just holler if you need anything. I’ll come check on you after you’ve finished.”

  “’Kay.”

  After showering, she didn’t feel much better. She climbed into her bed and curled into a ball underneath the quilt and blankets. Clutching her pillow, she couldn’t get Chase out of her head. His breath. His hands. His voice. She shivered and tears slipped down her cheeks again.

  Hayden knocked on her door and eased it open. “Lex?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Yeah.” She sniffled.

  He glided to the edge of the bed. “You okay?”

  “No.” She didn’t want to be alone.

  “Need another hug?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Move over.” He tapped her on the legs. “Let me in. It’s cold.”

  She held up the covers and he slid in beside her. It had been months since she’d fallen asleep next to him. Often, she used to drift off next to him after watching TV or from drunk talking or from being too tired at the end of the day to move. He gave the best hugs, and right then, she needed a million of them.

  She curled into him, her head resting in the crook of his arm.

  He pulled the bed coverings over them and held her close. His lips brushed against her forehead. “I got you. Always.”

  Closing her eyes, she breathed him in. He smelled clean, all freshly showered. His warmth seeped into her bones. His touch eased her mind.

  “Yeah,” she whispered. “For seven more weeks.”

  “Yeah. Seven more weeks.”

  She fought the sting in her eyes. Fought the pain in her heart. Why did everything have to change? Rip them apart? She didn’t want him to move to Boston. She’d always need him, but her need wasn’t reason enough to ask him to stay. Saying goodbye to him was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever had to do.

  Chapter 12

  When Lexi had needed him most, Hayden had failed her. Guilt masticated every pore of his skin. While he set up his drums in the Mercury Lounge for tonight’s show, Lewis plugged in his bass and worked with Jordan, the venue’s sound technician, to balance the sound. Screwing in the last of his cymbals, Hayden cursed himself for the millionth time for not going with Lexi to the food and wine festival last week. Seeing how frightened she was after Chase harassed her had hit him hard. He should’ve been with her, been there to protect her, not at home wallowing over his pathetic mother. He wanted to make up for his mistake. Prove to her he wasn’t a self-absorbed schmuck. Show her that she could depend on him. He’d come up with something. But tonight, he had a show to play, and needed to bring his A-game.

  Picking up his sticks, he hammered away at his drums, smashed out a song. He tried to block Lexi out, but it was pointless.

  He’d gone with her every day to meet with her human resources department, and the company’s legal team, and was by her side as she gave evidence against Chase. It was the least Hayden could do to support her. Didn’t help erase the horrid images he conjured up in his mind of Chase touching Lexi. The nausea in his gut thickened. Hayden pictured Chase’s face, wishing the drumsticks were his fists pounding into it. Prick deserved it. Especially now that after Lexi’s formal complaint, two other women had come forward with allegations against Chase. Hayden hoped Chase would be thrown into jail and never walk the streets again.

  Hayden thanked God Lexi hadn’t been hurt. He’d never forgive himself if she had.

  He stared at the bar at the back of the room. The thought of Lexi dealing with legal proceedings by herself in the coming months rattled in his head louder than his drums. Was moving to Boston the right thing for now? But his band couldn’t postpone moving; they’d signed a contract with the venue. He wanted the new gig as much as they did. Music was his life, but so was Lexi. Knowing he wouldn’t be here for her had his helplessness and fears playing on repeat in his mind. He was more torn up than Tulsa after a tornado. Couldn’t leave his band, his career. Didn’t want to leave Lexi. Damn it. Stop.

  Shaking his clouded thoughts away, he sucked in a deep breath. He’d made the decision to move and he had to live with the consequences. He had to accept he wouldn’t be there for her every day. Most of all, he had to find a way to let her go. Stop loving her so fucking much.

  It was much easier said than done.

  As he belted out another tune with Lewis, Kilt and Reg strolled into the room.

  “I’m fucking sick of singing, ‘Highway.’ Swap it for ‘Feeling High.’” Kilt stormed toward the stage; his spiky red hair matched his bloodshot eyes. He had the build of a lanky mad Scotsman but was as American as McDonald’s.

  “But it’s our hit single. We can’t cut it.” Reg struggled on his short legs to keep up with Kilt’s long stride and waved his hands about as he talked. “The fans love it. If you change that, we have to change the whole intro.”

  Hayden gritted his teeth, struck the crash cymbal hard. Why the fuck couldn’t Kilt and Reg stop arguing? It did his head in. “Guys, stop,” he yelled. “We’re not changing the set list hours out from a show. Pull your fucking heads in.”

  Three sets of eyes stared at him; mouths gaped. He usually didn’t get fired up about anything, usually went with the flow. But not anymore. He’d had enough of their crap. They were moving to Boston. This bullshit bickering had to end. He didn’t need to add to his unrest over leaving Lexi.

  Kilt’s lip twitched into a snicker. “What’s eating you?”

  “You.” Hayden flicked his hand toward the front of the stage. “You’re late. Hurry up so we can finish sound check.”

  “Yes, your highness.” Kilt bowed, scaled the steps and grabbed his mic.

  Reg sighed, mouthed “thank you” in Hayden’s direction and strode across the stage. He hooked the strap of his Gibson over his head, plugged the guitar into the amp, struck the strings, and played the intro to one of their songs.

  “Dude, please tune your fucking guitar.” Hayden grimaced at the pitched sound coming through his ear monitors.

  “There’s nothing wrong with it.” Reg’s shred sounded more like a shriek. “Just shut up and play the drums.”

  “Gladly.” Stretching and rolling out the tension twisting between his shoulder blades, Hayden teased his bass drum. With a spin of his sticks, he broke out into a speed-defying gallop across the snare and rack tom.

  It took one song, the wicked beat of their single “Looking For Adventure,” and the reverberations from his drums, to course through Hayden’s system and ease his preoccupied brain. This was what he needed. His band. Music. The stage. When they played, they melded as one. All the drama disappeared.

  His mind settled like dust after a storm. Moving to Boston was the right decision. Lexi would be okay without him. If she needed him, he wouldn’t be far away. No matter how much he wanted to hold onto her, he had to let go.

  Fifteen minutes into sound check, the main doors to the room flung open. In walked Hunter and Kyle, flanked by their security. They headed straight toward the stage.

  Hayden stopped drumming. His band ceased playing, grumbling at the interruption. Pulling out his ear monitors, Hayden leaped from his stool and stuffed his sticks into his back pocket. He stepped around his drums, over cables, and dodged a speaker to reach the front of the stage. “Hey guys.” He squatted and threw them a questioning look. “What are you doing here?”

  Kyle tucked his sunglasses into the pocket of his leather jacket. “Sorry to interrupt. You got a few minutes?”

  Hayden glanced over his shoulder at his band. Lewis, strumming low and slow on his bass, eye-fucked Kyle like he did every time Kyle was in the
same room as he was. Reg grabbed a sip of water from his bottle, unfazed by the disruption. Kilt gripped his mic and sneered at Hunter. There was no love lost between those two.

  “Um . . . sure.” Hayden wiped the sweat from his brow on his sleeve and waved toward the bar. “Meet you back there in a sec.” He stood and adjusted the drumsticks wedged into his back pocket. “Won’t be long,” he said to his band and scooted down the stage steps.

  “Better fucking not be,” Kilt called out after him, his voice a low, disgruntled growl.

  Hayden rested his butt cheek on the stool between Kyle and Hunter and ordered the guys a beer. Sam and Mick, their bodyguards, sat at the end of the counter and opted for a soda. Taking a sip on his beer, Hayden turned to Kyle. “So, what’s up? Everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” Kyle rested his elbow on the bar and fidgeted with a spare coaster. “We just came from seeing Lex. Gem and Kara are still with her.”

  A chill shuddered through his veins. “Is that why you’re here? Is something wrong with Lex?” Shit! He’d done everything for her this week. Had he missed something? Was she more fucked up by what had happened with Chase than she’d let on?

  “She’s still shaken but fired up to take that fucker down.” Kyle grinned, tapping the coaster on the counter.

  “Yeah. That’s Lex.” Throughout the past week, Hayden had watched her curse, pace their apartment, and swear justice would be done, then in other moments, she’d cried and trembled in his arms. She was tough, but not that tough.

  “Anytime you want Sam and Mick to go sort out her boss, just say the word.” Hunter grinned and leaned back in his chair.

  Sam folded his burly arms and gave him a short, sharp shake of the head. Keeping Everhide secure and safe from crazed fans was their job, not roughing up assholes like Chase.

  Kyle downed half his beer and let out a satisfied ‘ahh’ as he placed the glass on the counter. “Actually Hayds, we’re here to ask a huge favor. Slade’s girlfriend’s cesarean has been pulled forward to next Saturday. He needs to be there for his first kid. We have a show, the Jingle Ball, down in Washington and were wondering if you could fill in for him.”

  Hayden choked on a mouthful of beer; froth flew up his nose. “You want me to what?”

  “Come play for us, bud.” Hunter gave him a quick slap on the back.

  Hayden’s eyes widened. His heart rate jumped so fast his head spun and he swayed on the stool. “Are you fucking serious?”

  “Um . . . yeah.” Kyle grinned and nodded.

  Holy fuck! Hayden flattened his palms onto the counter. His pulse whooshed in his ears. “But I have a show.”

  Crap. His band would be playing at The Ballroom. It was their biggest gig in months.

  “Damn,” Kyle muttered, staring at the wall of liquor behind the bar. “That’s okay. Sophie will find someone. We have a few guys around town or out in LA that can fill in for Slade. Thought we’d ask you first.”

  Opportunity flashed through Hayden’s mind. Everhide’s show would probably be bigger than the largest one he’d ever played before. Panic, fear, nerves, self-doubt and excitement clutched his heart. He couldn’t let this break pass him by. “Wait . . . you really think I could do it? That I’m good enough?” He hadn’t been before. Why now?

  “Yeah, we do.” Kyle twisted and turned his glass on the counter. “What we’ve seen you do lately has been brilliant. You know half the songs we’ll be playing. We’ll rehearse every day next week. You’ll nail it. It’s eight songs, man. Not a whole two-hour fucking concert.”

  Hayden’s vision blurred, his brain throbbed. It took weeks, if not months, to rehearse set lists and changes, learn each other’s signals and signs, lead and set the pace of a show. They wanted him to do that in a week? “Shit. I’m sorry . . . I’m in shock. You’ve never asked me to play before.”

  Hunter downed a mouthful of beer, licked the froth from his lip. “You know we had no say in anything when we were at SureHaven.”

  Hayden’s friends had had a ruthless contract. SureHaven Records had controlled every aspect of their career—their songs, their clothes, and what they said.

  “Now we have control. Make every decision. We choose who plays, stays and goes.” Hunter gave him an I’m-so-glad-we-own-our-shit grin. “You want to do this or not?”

  Hayden’s mind spun like a cassette on fast forward. Play in Everhide’s backup band? Wow. But what about his show? His band? Kilt’s brother, Basil, might be able to fill in for him, or they could use backing tracks. They’d done that when he went to Gemma and Kyle’s wedding in Belize and when he’d had the flu. He didn’t want to let The Saylors down, but this was an opportunity not to be missed. This could even possibly help get The Saylors’ name out into the world. “Hell yes. And if we can generate some social buzz for The Saylors in the process, that I’m drumming for you, that would be sick.”

  “Fine.” Kyle knocked back the last of his beer. “Anything to help you out.”

  Hayden drummed his fingers against the bar. “Brilliant. I better go talk to them.”

  “Can I?” A huge grin inched across Hunter’s face. “It will give me great pleasure to piss Kilt off.”

  “Thanks, but I better break the news.” Hayden stood, straightened his T-shirt and led them toward the stage.

  Kilt put his foot up on the speaker in front of his mic and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knee. “Take long enough?”

  Hayden looked from Kyle to Hunter, then up at his band on the stage. He stuffed his hands into his front pockets to steady his shaky hands. “These guys want me to play for them next Saturday in Washington.”

  “You?” Lewis swung his bass back over his shoulder, his eyes lit up. “Play for them? That’s totally insane.”

  “But we’re playing The Ballroom.” Kilt’s jaw tensed. He straightened, pulled his shoulders back and crossed his arms. “It’s a big gig for us. We come first.”

  “That’s not fair, Kilt. You know you do.” Hayden clenched his fists inside his pockets. He was committed to his band, heart and soul. He’d always supported his band members’ different ventures and interests; why couldn’t they do the same in return? “Kilt, we stood back and let you try going solo two years ago.” He flicked his hand at Reg. “Reg often plays for another band and Lewis goes off DJing with his boyfriend at clubs. Everyone has other lives. So do I. I want to play with these guys for one night, so don’t be a prick about it.”

  To be asked to play by Everhide blew his mind. This was freaking awesome. He couldn’t wait to tell Lexi. She’d be ecstatic. She’d jump around the room, on the sofa, shriek at the top of her lungs.

  Whoa! Holy shit. His heart shuddered hard, stumbled a couple of beats. He placed his hand on the high bar table next to him to steady his wobbly knees. This may be the last time he got to share a big win with her. He’d miss coming home to her, miss her excitement, and the way her face lit up and her big brown eyes sparkled. He’d miss her contagious energy and support. Crap! Another first and last experience together.

  “We’re not being pricks.” Kilt flicked his hand toward Hayden. “You’re being a flake, running off with Everhide again.”

  Determination set in his jaw. This opportunity to play for Everhide was for his band, for their new start in Boston. “But this isn’t a vacation or a wedding. This is a gig I can’t refuse. This is for us. It will help get our name out there.”

  Kilt jerked his chin at Hayden. “Don’t be delusional. You’re a temporary fix in the backup band, dude. No one gives a fuck about the drummer.”

  What was wrong with Kilt? If the tables were turned, Kilt wouldn’t hesitate to fill in for a big band. Was he envious? Threatened? Afraid he’d leave? Or was his ego just clashing with Hunter’s? Hayden suppressed his sarcastic grin. He couldn’t see Kilt sharing a stage with Hunter anytime soon . . . or ever.

  Kyle chuckled and sat on the edge of the stage. “You should tell that to Slade. He has a huge following.”

  “But he’s a
legend.” Kilt scraped his fingers through his spiky hair. There was so much gel in it, it stood straight back up. “He’s been drumming for fifteen years, and for some of the biggest artists on the planet.”

  “Kilt. Enough.” Lewis cut in, tugging on his ear-monitor cords. “Hayden’s right. This is free PR, man. Hayden can post like crazy on social media, tag Everhide in everything. We can attract their fans. That’s totally awesome. Basil can fill in for Hayden.”

  “No,” Kilt snapped. His nostrils flared at Lewis. “Hayden’s our fucking drummer. It’s us or them.”

  Hayden clutched his fists so tight his knuckles ached. “You’re my band. Don’t ever question that.” He was leaving Lexi for them. Chasing his dreams with them. He wasn’t fucking going anywhere.

  “Kilt, don’t be a dick.” Hunter folded his arms, widened his stance. In his sleek black designer gear and with his fierce blue eyes blazing, he radiated a John Wick don’t-fuck-with-me attitude. “You worried that it’s Hayden drawing your crowd, not you? He’s certainly far better looking than you, and way more talented, assface.”

  “Fuck you.” Kilt stabbed his finger toward Hunter. His eyes flared with fire.

  Hunter didn’t flinch. “Is it the money you’re worried about? Let’s take that out of the equation. At The Ballroom, you’d be taking full percentage of ticket sales.” Hunter scratched his cheek, furrowed his brow in concentration. “So . . . The Ballroom holds . . . what . . . five hundred people? You’d be charging around twenty-five dollars a ticket. That’s . . . twelve thousand five hundred for the night. He glanced at Kyle, then turned back to the band. “I’ll pay each of you three thousand on top of next weekend’s takings if you give us Hayden for the night.”

  Kyle gaped, but then laughed.

  Hayden’s breath caught in his chest. He didn’t know what to think. But Hunter bribing his band was entertaining.

  “Don’t patronize me, you asshole.” Kilt’s voice dripped with spite. “Don’t flash your cash at me.”