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A home.

These guys were it.

But it felt incomplete without Tia. Some time, space, and distance were all I needed to reset. I had to refocus on music. It had never let me down and was the only constant in my life I could rely on. Hmph. NowI could count on these guys too.

That night, we drank an absurd amount of liquor.

We jammed.

We wrote lyrics.

It was amazing, but on the inside, I was fucking miserable.

A week later, I was no better. The days had disappeared in a blur of meetings for the tour and rehearsals for some up-and-coming awards shows. I’d texted Tia just to see if she was okay. To let her know I wasn’t. No reply. Fuck.

On Wednesday, almost three weeks after Tia and I broke up, the guys and I had flown to Las Vegas to attend the USA Rock Music Awards. We’d won best single. We’d fucking won! What should’ve been one of the best nights of my life had been overruled by the lingering emptiness in my chest. I’d smiled for the cameras. I’d waved to the fans. We’d partied hard until dawn. But it had all been an act.

So much for moving on.

No person was worth feeling this crappy over for this long. But my heart was stuck. My head hurt. Why was getting over Tia so much harder than getting over any partner I’d had before? We’d only been together for a couple of months, not years.

On Friday, back in LA, as a summer day blazed across the city, I sat beside Slip’s lap pool, downing a beer. Just after lunchtime, Cole walked through the doorway, dripping in sweat in his tank top and exercise shorts. Had he run there? Why?

“Hey man, how are you doing?” He dipped his hand into the pool and splashed his face and arms with water. Damn. I could appreciate his hot, glistening body...but he wasn’t Tia.

“Just great,” I mumbled.

“Liar.” He sat on the edge of the sun lounger next to me. “Where’s Slip?”

“Asleep.”

“Fair enough.” He glanced across the pool and combed his fingers through his damp hair, leaving tousled tracks in their wake. Then he tapped his fingers together and fidgeted with his watch. Something was off.

“What’s up?” I asked.

He stilled. Concern darkened his eyes. “I’m worried about Tia. She cries nearly every day, and it has nothing to do with her show finishing filming this afternoon. That’s not normal.”

My chest cinched. I hated that. “No, it’s not.”

“She’s still messed up over you. I’ve tried talking to her, but she won’t listen. She comes home from work, barely eats, then goes to bed. You two were always laughing and goofing around. I miss that.”

So do I. “Shit happens.”

“Yes, it does.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What I’ve struggled to comprehend is that you risked being in the band and were willing to give up everything to be with my sister. So, man, be honest with me. Do you still love her?”

I downed a mouthful of beer, then wiped the corners of my mouth with my fingertips. Did I love her? Yep. Did that matter anymore? Nope. “One thing I’ve learned is sometimes love isn’t enough. I’m sorry it’s taken longer than I expected to put this behind me. But I’m getting there.”

“No, you’re not. She isn’t either. You’re stuck, unable to move on because you’re still ridiculously into each other.”

“And how would you know that?” What suddenly makes him Mr. Observation?

“Because you’re mopey sacks of shit. I hate that I didn’t know you were into each other.” He lowered his voice. “Lewis, I can barely begin to fathom the emotional hurdles you would’ve gone through to be with my sister. Changing sexuality is a huge fucking deal. Anyone who’d do that must truly love her.” He closed his eyes. “I just wish you’d been honest with me. I would’ve been an asshole and lost my shit for a few days. I would’ve been concerned and worried about how Tia would’ve handled the gossip, but I would’ve come ’round. I would’ve been there for you. Been your friend. Like I have been and always will be. I get ruffled and heated and lose my shit every now and then, but so does everyone. So if you still care for her, please fix this.”

Ice set around my heart. “I’m not the one who broke us.” I stared at the rippling pool surface. “I’ve tried to fix things, but she won’t talk to me. I’ve texted. Called to check on her. But I’ve been ghosted.” Just like I’d been when Emilio and I had broken up. I wasn’t going to waste any more time.

“Shit. I didn’t know that.” He straightened and edged forward on the sun lounger. “Come over. Talk to her face to face. She needs you.”

“No. She had me.” I waved my beer bottle at Cole. “She wasn’t prepared to fight for what we had like I was. I was willing to give up everything for her. I fought for her. We talked and talked and talked. But I can’t do that anymore. There is nothing left to say. I’m sorry.” I let my head fall back against the chair and stared at the cloudless sky. “I’ll be fine. This weekend will help me reset. Trust me.”