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CHAPTER THIRTY

Jade

I don’t know what’s going on with Royal, but seeing his ex-wife impacted him a lot more than I thought it would. It probably has more to do with her dating his replacement—and the fact that no one told him he’d been replaced—but I’m not sure what he’s feeling because he’s been sullen and withdrawn for two days.

We’d finally found our groove as a couple, and this is a setback I hadn't anticipated.

And I can’t tell what bothered him more—the sex tape or Amber.

I just…I don’t think it’s the tape.

He was all about comforting me, on board with the plan that Kate and Madeline came up with until…Amber.

I sigh because I truly don’t know if what’s eating at him is that Amber is marrying the guy who’s replacing him, that she’s pregnant, or that she mocked him for being with a country bumpkin like me.

All of the above, I guess.

Because the whole situation seems to be causing him to spiral in a way I don’t understand. I haven’t seen this side of him before.

The worst part is that I don’t know how to pull him out of the darkness that seems to be engulfing him.

The tape threw him for a loop. Seeing Amber another. Learning that she’s pregnant one more. And finding out that he’s no longer a member of Midnight Sun? About a million loops—enough to make me spend far too much time in my head.

So, it’s understandable he’d withdraw—especially considering he’s not good at emotions.

But…is it really all of that?

Or is it something more?

Something about losing Amber?

No. I don’t think he still loves her. Rather, she hurt him in a way only someone you’ve been completely intimate with can.

And I hate her for it.

She had no business—no right —to say the things she said. I don’t even care much about what she said about me. People have said worse. Heck, they are saying worse. About the sex tape, about my music, about me scraping the bottom of the barrel by dating a washed-up recluse like Royal.

I can’t care less about that.

But her pushing him back to the darkness I’ve worked so hard to bring him out of?

I’ll never forgive her for that.

We haven’t worked on our music since that night at the Sapphire Room, and when I mention it, he gets defensive.

Like now.

We’ve just finished breakfast, and I’m putting the dishes in the dishwasher while he sits at the island, ignoring me.

He’s definitely not himself.

“Do you want to go to the studio today?” I ask lightly. “We have the time booked—it shouldn’t go to waste.”

“Not in the mood,” he mutters.

“Babe, the album is almost done. I thought you were excited.”

He doesn’t respond, and my patience is starting to wear thin.

I’m trying .

I’ve been supportive and sweet and thoughtful.

I’ve attempted to get him to open up without nagging or pushing too hard. But at some point, he has to meet me at least in the ballpark of halfway.

“Royal?”

He’s doing something on his phone, completely ignoring me, and his behavior is starting to get irritating.

“I’m just tired, okay?” He doesn’t even look up.

“It’s eleven o’clock in the morning…and we just got up an hour ago. How tired can you be?”

He chuckles but it hits a bitter note and hangs in the space between us. “We were up pretty late, if I recall.”

“We were,” I admit, “but I don’t think?—”

“Let’s go back to bed,” he murmurs, abruptly standing up and coming over to circle my waist with his right arm, using it to draw me against him.

I know he’s deflecting, but this is too important to let him get away with it.

“I don't want to go back to bed just yet,” I respond gently, turning to gaze up at him. “I want you to tell me what’s bothering you.”

He knits his brows together, his blue eyes darkening.

And not in that sexy alpha way I love.

There’s annoyance in those fathomless pits, something he rarely shows when we’re together.

“We don’t have to talk about fucking everything,” he snaps. “Okay? I’m allowed to have thoughts that I don’t want to share.”

I know he’s upset.

I know seeing his replacement with Amber had to hurt.

I can only imagine how hard it must be to find out you’ve been replaced in the band you started without warning—but none of that is my fault.

We’re supposed to be a team, both personally and professionally.

He promised we were in this together.

But it hasn’t felt like it the last couple of days, so I’m trying my hardest to be supportive, even though I’ve felt incredibly alone.

“Of course you are,” I say gently, “but it might help to get it off your chest. That’s all.”

“That’s not how I roll, so leave it alone, okay? Please?”

I sigh. “Fine. But I’m going to the studio today. Come with me. It’ll get your mind off things. We can just play around with some of the songs we’re not sure we’re going to use. That’s been fun.”

“Fun for you maybe.” His voice is barely discernible, but I hear it.

And I freeze, staring at him in confusion.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing. Never mind.” He turns away, like he’s going to leave the kitchen, but I grab his arm and the questions pour out of me.

“Babe, what’s wrong? Do you not want to do the album together anymore? What’s going on with you? I understand that scene with Amber was rough, but why are you taking it out on me?”

A tic in his jaw is working overtime, and he doesn’t meet my gaze.

The silence grows, a strange, uncomfortable distance between us even though we’re only standing a few inches apart.

Frustration hits me like hurricane-force winds, and I put my hands on my hips. “If you have something to say, go ahead and say it!” I snap, losing my temper.

He finally looks up, his face a mask of nothingness.

“Do you have any idea what a step down it is for me to go from the biggest rock band in the world to working on some country bumpkin-style album?”

I’m not sure how I’m supposed to respond to that, but in the moment, I’m equal parts heartbroken and furious. The woman falling in love with him can’t believe he would say something so hurtful, while the country music star who just won a huge award is about to tell him where to stuff it.

“Are you kidding me right now?” I demand.

I have and would put up with a lot because I think he’s worth it, but this hurts me in a way I can’t describe. If he doesn’t think my music is worthy, that’s his prerogative, but I refuse to be with a man who talks down to me.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to play an arena with a hundred and fifty thousand people screaming your name?” he asks quietly, fists clenched at his sides. “To be on the fucking top of the world and then have it all come crashing down? Your career, your marriage, your fucking ability to play music? Do you, Jade? Because if not, you can’t possibly understand what I’m going through.”

“No,” I respond tightly, fighting back tears that I truly don’t want him to see. “I don’t. And I hate everything that’s happened to you. But you don’t get to hurt all the people around you just because someone else hurt you. That’s beneath you. And I deserve better from you.”

“Why? Because we’re fucking or because I wrote you a song that finally put you on the map?”

Before I can stop myself, I reach out and slap him across the face.

There’s a long moment of startled silence. I’ve never slapped anyone in my life, and my first inclination is to apologize.

But he owes me one first.

“You did not put me on the map,” I hiss, those blasted tears pushing their way to the surface no matter how hard I try to stop them. “I was a star long before your stupid song…” My voice is starting to break but I refuse to back down. “And you know what else? I’ll still be a star when you go back to hiding behind your insecurities.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“And one more thing,” I say, swiping at the tears streaming down my face and throwing down the dish towel I’m still holding as I head for the bedroom to get my things. “Fuck you, Royal Ewing.”