Reckless Obsession (The Reckless Rockstar Series) - Samantha Christy Page 0,90

I’m not jealous.”

“Bullshit. How many people have you punched for coming on to me? Hell, for even talking to me.”

“That’s not because I’m jealous.”

“That’s what it looks like to me and everyone else.”

“I’m …” I lean against the building and rub my eyes. “I’m only trying to protect you.”

“From what? Guys who come on to me in bars? News flash—men are going to come on to me. They come on to girls all the time. It’s a fact of life. Or do you mean protect me from the fans? Fans we need or our band will cease to exist? Either way, it’s gone too far.”

Someone scruffy walks up to us. “Are you okay?” he asks Bria.

I step over to him and jut a finger into his chest. “You’re him. Are you stalking her?”

“Stop it! He’s not stalking me. You are. Jonah, I’m okay. I think you should go, though.”

He hesitates. “If you’re sure.”

“She’s sure, asshole. Go.”

He turns the corner into the alley next to her building. I wonder if he lives there and consider rousting him from a location too close to Bria.

She stomps her foot in impotent anger. “That is exactly what I’m talking about. You can’t treat people that way.”

“How do you know he wasn’t waiting for you to get home and planned to force his way upstairs?”

“You mean like how you were waiting for me? You have a problem, and you’re scaring me. I’d like you to leave.” She unlocks the door and starts inside. I try to follow her. “No! How can you not see that you’re becoming the very person you think you’re protecting me from?”

“You’re scared of me?”

Streetlights illuminate her tears. “I’m scared of a lot of things, not the least of which is that I fell in love with you.”

I back away, the wind knocked out of me. “Fuck.”

“See? I tell you I’m in love with you, and you curse.”

“I told you I’m a goddamn mess.”

She sags, and her eyes become vacant. “You did. That makes me an idiot, doesn’t it? I knew we shouldn’t do this. I’ve known all along. I tried to resist, but then … and you’re so obsessed with protecting me you didn’t notice. Sometimes I think you have blinders on, because any fool can see how I feel. But you make me feel like I’m not here.” She closes her eyes. “Or maybe you wish I were someone else.”

“Bria, no.”

“Don’t come back.” Tears flow down her cheeks. “I’m done, Crew. Find yourself a different girlfriend. And” —her chin quivers— “I think it’s best you find another singer.”

“Bria—”

The loud slam of the door makes me flinch.

I sit on the bench at the corner and look up. Lights turn on and then off in her window. She’s drunk. She couldn’t have meant what she said.

I take out my phone and text her.

Me: I know you didn’t mean that. I’m sorry I made you mad. We’ll talk tomorrow.

Why isn’t my text being delivered?

I send another.

Me: Bria, please answer me.

I call her. It rings once and goes to voicemail. My chin falls to my chest. This happened to Garrett.

My throat closes and a tight pressure makes my chest hurt. Bria hasn’t turned her phone off. She’s blocked my number.

Chapter Thirty-nine

Bria

I lie in bed, hiding my head under the covers as if that will somehow protect me from my problems. It’s ten. I should be at rehearsal. I’ve been resisting the temptation to unblock Crew’s number for hours. He’s probably texted me a dozen times, but I can’t do it. If I take him back, I’ll be accepting his behavior.

What I said to him last night is true. I love him. I think I’ve loved him for months. But he can’t love me back. How can he when he’s already in love with someone else? Someone I can never compete with? I know his behavior has everything to do with her, but I can’t allow him to treat me that way.

It’s the other thing I said to him that kept me awake most of the night. Am I really quitting the band?

My phone pings with a text.

Liam: Crew said you’re sick. He’s busy so he asked me to text you. I hope it’s nothing serious. What about tonight?

He didn’t tell them I blocked him? Is he expecting me to change my mind and forget everything that’s happened? I read Liam’s text again. What about tonight? What about tomorrow night? We have two gigs this weekend.

Me: I think you’ll have to count me out

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