Play With Me - Brittany Cournoyer Page 0,76

me as I flung my words at him. I could see the hurt in his face, but I was too far gone to stop. I' just punched him with my accusations and only stopped when I had nothing left to say.

It was only when he was gone, after his fuck yous and letting me know he was falling for me, that I realized what an asshole I’d been. I was nearly rendered speechless over his declarations, but a part of me refused to believe him. That part was the reason I didn’t chase after him and instead went back inside to finish my gig.

“Is everything okay?” Maverick inquired after he took one look at my thunderous expression.

“No,” I said bluntly.

“Do you—”

Knowing what he was about to ask next, I held up my hand to cut him off. “No, I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to play this next set and get the fuck out of here, okay?”

Maverick held up his hands in surrender. “Okay. Let’s get started.”

It was a double-edged sword that my mind wasn’t all the way into playing the music. My focus was entirely on Matthias and Foster, and not at all on working my fingers over the keys. Thankfully, I didn’t need to think as I played, my hands acting on autopilot, but I wished I did. Because then I could’ve pushed my dumpster fire of a love life on the back burner to focus on my job. I knew I wasn’t on top of my game, but how could I put my heart into my music when it was broken?

“What was that about?” Maverick asked a little while later when we were packing up to go.

“I told you I don’t want to talk about it.”

Maverick didn’t budge. “And I don’t care. You were terrible back there, Stellan. I’ve never heard you play with so little emotion. Whatever happened between sets, fix it before the next show or don’t bother coming.”

I startled at his words. “You’re joking, right?”

But Maverick shook head. “The Messengers has a reputation to uphold and we only offer the best to our fans. If you can’t deliver, then don’t bother trying. I refuse to allow you to tarnish our name because you’re having problems you won’t face. It’s because of these people who continue to follow us and listen to us play that we get to continue doing what we do. They deserve more than a half-assed performance!”

“I’m the best goddamn saxophone player this band has ever had, and I’ll be damned if I allow you to tell me otherwise.”

I could feel questioning eyes on us as bar employees and the other band members watched the exchange, but I paid them no mind. It wasn’t the first argument Maverick and I had ever had, and I doubted it’d be the last. Though, having him tell me not to show up was a new one, and all it did was further piss me off.

“Then act like it. Whatever is going on with you, fix it. My guess is it has something to do with Foster since he’s no longer here. I already knew you could be an asshole at times, but if you screwed up with him, then you’re a bigger one than I gave you credit for.”

The argument was there, waiting for me to say them, but as I continued to stare at the older man, my resolve crumbled. Much like my guard had.

“I don’t know if I can,” I admitted. “I was…fuck. Maverick, I was such a dick to him. Now I’m afraid it’s too late.”

“I’m not the one you need to be saying this to. It’s not too late unless you make it that way. There’s still time, Stellan. Make things right with him. Something tells me he’ll give you a second chance, but the question is: Do you deserve it?”

“I really don’t know,” I answered truthfully.

“Then maybe you should go find out.”

Minutes later I was in my car speeding toward Foster’s house and praying that Maverick was right—that it wasn’t too late. Relief washed through me when I saw his car in the parking lot, and a quick glimpse showed that a light illuminated his bedroom window. Thank fuck, he was home.

I parked my car, nearly forgetting to turn the ignition off and locking it up, and sprinted toward the building. I took the stairs two at a time, and when I reached the top, I ran toward the door I knew he was behind. I