Hinder (An Off Track Records Novel)

by Kacey Shea

  Austin shoves me back, and his hands wrap in tight fists at my shoulders as he knocks me against the wall.

  I don’t struggle. All the fight’s been sucked from me. I’m not mad at Austin. I understand his outrage. If anything, I’ve earned it.

  “You’re out because you broke our trust. Plain and simple.”

  I nod and my shoulders shrug under the weight of my sins.

  Austin pushes against my chest, a shove that begs for a fight. “And that’s all you have to say for your pathetic lying self?”

  “Hit me if you want. Beat the shit out of me. I don’t care.” And I don’t. The pain would feel good. A measly penance for my sins.

  Austin meets my gaze and shakes his head at whatever he finds. He steps back but his posture is tense. “How could you do that to her?”

  Opal. My heart sinks with how much this costs her, more than anyone. Everything with her was real and true. But how will she know that now? I could explain, if she’d even listen. She won’t choose me over family. She shouldn’t have to.

  “I asked you a question, dickhead.”

  And fucking Austin is poised to swoop in and reap the benefits of her broken heart.

  The thought of her in his arms ignites jealousy in the pit of my stomach. Fuck him. I clench my jaw and brace myself for his rage. “Opal enjoyed everything I did to her.”

  Austin slams me against the wall. “You fucking think this is a joke? So help me God, I find out you forced her or hurt her and I will crush you. Make it so you don’t play a precious note ever again. Take away that pretty boy jawline. Do you understand me?”

  I heave with all my might and shove him away so I can breathe. I straighten my clothes, a scowl pressing my features much like his. “Down, man. I didn’t hurt her.” At least not physically. I tried to make everything about last night special for her. Perfect or close to it, because that’s what she deserves. Fuck, she deserves more than I could ever give, but I tried. Goddamn, did I try to make our time together worthy of everything she gave in return.

  “You’re a real cocksucker, you know that?”

  “I’m sorry, okay. I screwed up. She’s gonna be fine without me.” Better off, really.

  “You don’t get it. Do you? You can’t take something precious from a woman like that and disregard the consequences.”

  I know this, but I can’t go back in time and undo the past. Hell, even if I could, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from falling for her. I shake my head. Like he’s one to talk. “Don’t pretend you have such high morals when it comes to women. You hook up with a different girl in every city.”

  “Whatever.” He scoffs, his mouth twisted in disgust. “If you don’t get it, you never will.”

  “Get what? Lying is bad and the truth is worse? If I could go back and make this better, I would.” I shake my head and meet his glare with one of my own. “You think I don’t regret hurting her? I do. I fucking do. But I can’t go back, and even if I could I’d choose her all over again.”

  “You can’t go around taking something just because you want it. This isn’t a store. She isn’t a commodity. You don’t use people.” Hurt frames the edges of his glare. “You don’t use her.”

  Did I use Opal? My gut churns with the recognition that I took more from her than I was able to give. But no. I won’t be made to feel guilty for what we had. I dare anyone in my place to walk away from the same situation. No man in his right mind would. Especially Austin.

  “How about you mind your own business. You have no fucking clue what went down between me and Opal.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. But if you didn’t intend to love her, to make that level of commitment.” He shakes his head and practically spits his next words. “I hope I never see your face again.”

  “Austin.” Sean steps out into the hallway. “He’s not worth it. Come back inside.”

  I turn away from both of them, ready to get the hell out of here. Where I’m going next? I have no fucking clue.

  “You still gonna be a problem?” Austin calls at my back. “Any more band secrets you gonna sell?”

  I stop, shake my head, and glance over my shoulder. “No, you don’t have to worry about that. I never sold anything to the press.”

  “So, you’re gonna be a traitor and a liar now?” he shouts.

  And there’s the kicker. Because of my transgressions, no one gives a shit about the truth. I’m unforgivable. There’s no redemption for me. On a deep exhale, I drop my gaze to the floor and push my legs forward, one foot in front of the other. I don’t look back. I can’t. It’s game over and time for me to walk away.

  33

  Opal

  It’s been two weeks since my heart shredded to a thousand pieces in an NYC hotel room. I’ve cried. I’ve been angry. And boy have I been sad, but time passes. The world doesn’t stop for a broken dream, and neither does the tour. I could have quit my PA job working for Trent. With my new trust fund allowance, I could pretty much go anywhere. But I don’t want to be alone. I can’t lose the only things I have left.

  I’ve pushed through the pain, thrown myself into my work, and spent extra time getting to know my sister. The loss of Leighton, and his betrayal, doesn’t hurt any less, but I refuse to let it define me. If I’ve learned anything since leaving Destin, it’s that I’m capable of more.

  Tonight the guys play a packed house in New Orleans. Another sold-out crowd. It’s an amazing performance, but their new drummer isn’t as good as Leighton, and each time I watch the show I miss him all over again. We explored the city earlier, and I’m exhausted. My feet ache and all I want is to fall asleep. Dressed in my pajamas and curled up on one of the recliners, I watch as Lexi, Trent, Sean, and Austin finish getting ready to go out.

  “We’ll be back in three hours. Text me if you need anything.” My sister slides her cell into her purse.

  I wave her off. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

  “You sure?” She asks me this numerous times a day. I’m not okay, but I’m surviving.

  “Have a fun time.” I force a smile I don’t feel and wave as she leaves with the guys. All but one.

  Austin puts his arm around my shoulder and squeezes into the chair with me. “Come out with us tonight.”

  He is relentless in his attempts to get me to join them after the shows, even though I reject his offer every time. “I’d rather stay here.”

  “Opal.” He draws out my name.

  “I’m not in the mood. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize.” He squeezes my shoulder and blows out a long breath. “This sucks. I hate seeing you this way.”

  “Yeah, well, if you know of any tricks for getting over a man you thought you loved but discovered was only using you . . .”

  He perks up with that, his eyes full of mischief. “I do, actually.”

  “Yeah?” I let loose a chuckle.

  “Fucking. And I volunteer my body at your disposal.” A few months ago his teasing would have excited me, but now it does nothing.

  I scrunch up my nose. “That doesn’t sound appealing at all. I’m sorry.”

  He heaves another sigh. “I understand. It’s okay, you know? We can’t help who we love. Sometimes getting hurt is inevitable.” His words strike a truth in my soul.

  I turn so I can meet his gaze. “Have you ever been in love?”

  “God, no!” His brows shoot up toward his hairline. He laughs, but it doesn’t hold much humor. “And I hope I never am. You make it look miserable.” He means it as a joke. He doesn’t ignore or shy away from my pain, which I normally appreciate. But tonight my eyes well with tears.

  “Shit. That was supposed to make you laugh.” He tugs me closer. “Come here.”

  I bury my face in his chest and allow the sobs to break through. I’ve been holding it in, all of it, and it comes gushing out in the form of snot, ugly cries, and falling tears. “I’m sorry. I just keep crying. I can’t stop.”

  “I’ve got you.” He strokes my hair and
holds me close, not caring at all that I’m crying all over his shirt.

  “Aren’t you going out?”

  “Eh, the whores of New Orleans will have to wait. I’ve got a more important place to be.”

  I sniffle and wipe my face, pulling back to meet his gaze. “Thank you.”

  “We’re family. It’s what we do.” And if there’s any bright side to the pain that comes with my broken heart, it’s knowing I’m not alone. Not anymore. Not ever.

  I lay my head on his chest and listen to the steady beat of his heart. It reminds me I’m still here, even though my mind feels numb. “You know the crazy thing? I still love him. I don’t want to. But I do.”

  “You love hard. Best way to be.” He smooths down my hair. It’s comforting. Something Grams would have done.

  “Doesn’t feel like it right now,” I say. Austin’s become my best friend, and he allows me to be honest in a way I can’t with everyone else. He doesn’t judge. Just accepts.

  He drops a kiss to the top of my head. “I know, baby girl. I know.”

  34

  Leighton

  Being fired from Three Ugly Guys wrecks me, and it definitely fucks with my self-confidence. I didn’t only lose the best job in the world, I lost the best woman, too. Going back to LA wasn’t what I planned, but since I didn’t know what to do next, it seemed the best choice. I took a cab to the airport, booked the redeye, then balked at the flight cost and the subsequent drop in my bank account balance. Adulting sucks.

  When I show up on my parents’ doorstep early the next morning, they don’t dive into a lecture. However, their pinched stares say I told you so clearer than any words.

  I’m the golden child. The one who goes after what he wants, and gets it. This sting of failure is foreign, and instead of fighting it, I allow myself to wallow.

  For two weeks I mope around my parents’ mansion. Everyday tasks like taking a shower or remembering to eat take a concerted effort. The only joy I find is when I sneak into the basement at night to pound all my anger, sadness, and frustration out on my drum set. But even that reminds me of Opal, and how I fucked up.

  It’s during one of my late night jams, when I’ve beaten everything onto those skins and my own hands ache from playing, that I’m hit with a moment of utter clarity. What the hell am I doing?

  Why I am accepting defeat?

  I’m not a quitter. I don’t give up. This is the only time in my life when I have, and it’s when it matters most.

  Not anymore. Today I take back my independence. The pity party ends now. I want a life I’m proud of. One Opal would approve of if she were in it. And there’s no better time to start than now. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I jog upstairs. Outside the windows, the sun breaks over the horizon, the faint light of day brightening the cloudy morning sky.

  My parents won’t be up for another hour, but I can’t wait. An idea strikes and I push inside my mother’s office, going straight for the bookshelf that holds dozens and dozens of photo albums. I’m thankful for her precise organization because it only takes a few minutes to locate the book from my graduation day.

  I sit on the floor, then flip through the book, scouring each photograph. I need to find the missing piece. To understand why my uncle couldn’t get caught getting sucked off by the woman at my party. Why I was able to leverage that for a place in the band?

  A good start would be discovering who she even is. If I could go back in time, I’d stay in the pool house long enough to get a good look at her face. But since I can’t, I hold out hope I’ll find her here.

  “Son, what in God’s name are you doing?” My mother wraps her silk robe around her waist and takes in the disarray of open photo albums.

  “Are these all the photos from my graduation? And the party after?”

  She sighs and rubs her temples. “Why? Did you want me to have a set printed? I can have a second book made.”

  “These are all of them, though? There’s no more? None at all?” This search is hopeless.

  “Well, no.” She picks up the book and places it back on the shelf. “I went through the proofs. Practically all were garbage. I swear, Vincent’s gotten lazy in his old age. He shot half of them from his perch near the open bar.”

  Wait. That’s good. Really good. I perk up with the sliver of hope, though it’s a long shot. “Do you still have them? The proofs?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe in my email somewhere. I might be able to find it. If the link didn’t expire.” She rolls her eyes and turns to leave. By her flippant attitude she’s not in the mood for my wild treasure hunt.

  I scramble from the floor and block the doorway before she leaves. “I need to see those photos.” The level of anxiety in my tone makes me sound desperate, but it catches her attention.

  She narrows her gaze. “Why is this so important?”

  “It just is.”

  My mother sighs and makes a show of walking over to her computer. She isn’t thrilled, but to her benefit she does find the email and pulls up the proofs. “Here. Though I don’t know why you care about unflattering photos. I hope there’s a point to all this.”

  I hope so, too. My eyes bug at the screen. “Three thousand photos!”

  “I told you Vincent’s gone rogue.” She waltzes over to the bar.

  While she mixes her breakfast cocktail, I get busy clicking through photos. I jump ahead to the party, praying there’s one of the woman or that I’ll even recognize her. An hour later I’m still on the hunt. My mother has come and gone, peering over my shoulder but not interrupting my search. It’s probably useless. Completely asinine. But I can’t make myself stop until I’ve gone through every single proof.

  “Nothing. Fucking nothing.” I lean back into the soft leather chair, not knowing where to go from here.

  “Find what you’re looking for?” My mother peeks her head in the room.

  “No.” I shake my head, shut the laptop, then spin the chair to meet her gaze. “There was someone at the party, and I’m trying to find who she is. I was hoping a photo would jog my memory.”

  She lifts her brows. “What did she look like?”

  “Blonde. I’d guess twenties or thirties, but maybe not.”

  “Well, I can’t help you there.” She shrugs. “The guest list was extensive. Everyone brought dates.”

  “Wait. There was a guest list? Do you still have it?”

  My mother rolls her eyes. “How do you think I manage my parties without a guest list? Seriously, Leighton. It’s as if you’ve lost everything we ever taught you. One month with this rock business and you’ve turned into a mongrel.”

  My patience is thin but I manage to keep my tone even. “The list. Do you have it?”

  “I don’t know, dear. I’ll look for it in a little while. Come, we’re having breakfast in the dining room. Unfortunately, your father had to catch a flight up to the San Francisco office and won’t be joining us.”

  “I’ll grab something later. If you could get me that list?”

  “Breakfast. We’re not animals.” Her glare is hard and she spins on her heels. She stomps away, my argument cut off.

  In the dining room there’s an elaborate table setting, along with more food than she and I could eat in one week. Of course, she’s prepared none of it. My heart pangs for Opal. I long for her simple home-cooked meals. I miss everything about her.

  Over stilted conversation, I get through the meal with my mother. I’m about to ask about the guest list again, when she clears her throat and speaks first.

  She pushes her plate to the side and clasps her hands on her lap. “Leighton. It’s time we discussed your future.” Here we go. The lecture I’ve been expecting and avoiding. “I hope you enjoyed your little adventure, because it’s time you get your life back on track.”

  The old me would sit back and smile through her words. Accept my fate, the path of least resistance. But I’m done with that. Straightening my spine, I meet her gaze across the table. Emotion wells in my chest
, but I focus on communicating how I feel. “You know I loved every second. That playing in the band made me feel more alive than any other performance.”

  “That’s lovely.” She smiles politely. “But you need to resume your practice schedule. Julliard is only one month away.”

  I laugh, more from my mother’s total denial of reality, and shake my head. “Only, I’m not going. I delayed my admission. Remember?”

  She waves a hand, dismissing my decision and my feelings. “Don’t be ridiculous. Your father called the dean. It wasn’t easy, but our hefty donation did the trick.”

  I stare, long and hard because I need her to understand she can’t do this anymore. “I’m not going.”

  Her face reddens and her brow creases with lines of displeasure. Her voice is sharp and stern. “Leighton Wellington, you will not throw your life away.”

  “My life. Mine. You forget I’m an adult and not your pet. I did everything you asked for eighteen years. I won’t throw away any more.”

  “So, what? You’re going to join a band? Live on the streets in LA? I will not support this vagabond lifestyle. You won’t see a penny from your father or me.”

  “I don’t expect you to support me financially. I don’t need your money.” My voice is hard, but it’s sadness that fills my soul. “But you know what would’ve been nice? To know your love extends further than your checkbook and social connections.”

  “That checkbook afforded you everything.”

  “Not everything.” I smile sadly. “Maybe one day you’ll see that before it’s too late.” Pushing my chair back, I rise from my seat, knowing what I have to do next. What I should have done two weeks ago. I walk around the table and give her a hug. Her body stills with the contact. Hell, I’ve likely stunned her, but she doesn’t push me away. “Bye, Mom.”

  I’m halfway to the door when she raises her voice. “You’re just going to leave.”

  I turn back and nod. “I am.”