Page 2 of Silent Truths (Razor Monkees #1)

Salem

A YEAR AND A HALF LATER

I fucked up things… royally. And I didn’t know how to fix it.

The newest picture our publicist had posted on Tor’s social media had my heart sinking to my feet, just like every single picture before it.

We looked so happy up on stage, singing together like we were madly in fucking love.

Like so many of our fans believed us to be due to the story the record label wanted us to have because, apparently, our chemistry was “off the charts”.

But behind the scenes, I ignored Tor. And Tor, who had once begged for my attention, had once begged to fix things between us, now ignored me, too. We’d once been so fucking close that I couldn’t breathe without smelling him on my bed, on my clothes, on my fucking skin. And now…

Now the air was empty . Like it lacked oxygen. Every breath was a goddamn struggle without him.

I shouldn’t have hooked up with him in that goddamn bathroom. I’d known it would fuck everything up, but shit, the way his body had moved with mine, and then the way his tongue felt in my mouth, how he moved against me…

I’d been so fucking lost in him. Hadn’t been capable of sensible thought. All I’d been thinking was claim, take, fuck, and Tor. Tor. Tor. Fucking Tor.

I shouldn’t have given him the cold shoulder after.

I should’ve talked shit out with him like a fucking adult.

But instead, I’d done what I did best—I went inside my head, and I blocked him out in the process.

And when he finally got up the nerve to confront me—nerve I knew it took a lot for him to have because Tor was just so damn soft—I’d cut him… deep. So damn deep.

The hurt in his eyes that day still haunted my fucking dreams.

I closed out the app on my phone and locked the device before shoving it into my pocket.

Resting my head back against the couch, I closed my eyes, listening to the quiet sounds of the house.

Everyone was asleep still. Couldn’t blame them.

We’d been touring for fucking months—our first tour ever—and it was finally over.

We had some time to rest. Tor could focus on writing songs for our next album, and in a couple of months, we would be back in the studio to record before prepping for our next tour.

Sighing, I stood up from the couch and walked to the room I was supposed to be sharing with Tor, though we hadn’t really shared it in over a year now.

Not since that night. I now camped my ass out on the couch, only coming in here when I needed something of mine.

I hadn’t slept in my bed in… fuck, I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d sat on the damn thing.

It hurt too goddamn much to be in the same room with him. Living on the tour bus had been hell . I’d barely goddamn survived it. We’d planned for me and Tor to share a room, but every night, I crashed on the uncomfortable couch on the bus and Tor slept alone.

Tor wasn’t in the room when I pushed the door open quietly. His bed was empty, still made. I blinked in surprise. Where in the hell was he? Tor was never up this early, and if he had to be, he wasn’t even functioning enough to make his damn bed.

I quickly backed out of the room and began searching the rest of the house, but nope.

He definitely wasn’t here. My heart lurched into my throat, worry and concern making my movements jerky.

I pushed open the door to Dalton and Jesse’s room without knocking, unable to think past the pain constricting my lungs.

Dalton sleepily lifted his head from his pillow, blinking at me.

“What the fuck, Salem,” he groaned, dropping his head back down. “Some people fuckin’ sleep, you know.”

“Tor is missing,” I told him.

Jesse grunted and pulled his covers over his head. “No, he’s not,” Jesse mumbled, his voice a bit muffled by the pillow. “He went out like two hours after you passed out. He bunked at a hotel because he was too drunk to drive back.”

I clenched my jaw, hating that they knew that about Tor, but I hadn’t. And really, had I expected to? Tor and I barely spoke to each other anymore unless it was absolutely necessary. I only found out what was going on with him and what he was doing through other people.

It still wasn’t something I was used to—not even with all the time that had passed.

“No one went to get him?” I gritted through clenched teeth.

Dalton sighed and shoved his pillow over his head. “No, Salem. Tor is grown. If he wanted one of us to come get him, he would’ve said so. Now go the fuck away.”

I stalked out of the room, barely resisting the urge to slam the door behind me.

I yanked my phone from my sweats, my finger hovering over Tor’s name on my phone.

But instead of hitting the green dial button like I so badly wanted, I instead scrolled past his name to the name of the guy I used for sex when we happened to be home.

He’d signed an NDA a little over a year ago.

He knew he was nothing more than a booty call, and he was good for when I needed to just get off.

And fuck, I really needed to get off and distract myself.

Otherwise, I’d end up calling Tor, demanding to know where he was and drag him back home where my selfish ass could still keep an eye on him, even though I didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as him.

I pressed Gray’s name and raised my phone to my ear.

“Finally home?” he purred through the line, not bothering with niceties.

I grunted. “Yeah. Need you to come over.” I never had him come over—always went to his place or got a hotel room. But Tor wasn’t here, and if he was as drunk as Jesse said he was, then he wouldn’t be home for a while.

I could get off and boot Gray back out before Tor probably even got up for the day.

He chuckled. “Say less.”

The bedroom door opened as I bent Gray damn near in fucking half, trying to get deeper inside of him. Glancing over my shoulder, my eyes widened, my hips immediately coming to a halt. Horror filled every pore of my body, and I softened so fucking fast, I should have been embarrassed.

Tor was standing in the doorway, his hand white-knuckling the door handle, all the color washed out of his face.

I’d thought I had fucking time . I’d never let Tor see me with anyone else because I knew it would fucking hurt him. But here he was, and here I was… and here Gray was.

Fuck .

“Tor—” I started, already pulling out of Gray and moving to get off the bed.

He rushed from the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

I cursed and stumbled to my feet, yanking my sweats off the floor and quickly tugging them on.

I rushed for the door. “You need to leave,” I told Gray before I ran out of the room after Tor, feeling sick to my fucking stomach.

Tor was high-tailing it for the back door.

I slipped as I rounded the corner and quickly gripped the wall for support. “Tor, wait, fuck?—”

He swung around in the kitchen once I neared him, and then pain exploded along my jaw, turning my vision white for a moment. I staggered back, slamming into the old fridge behind me, my hand coming up to cradle my jaw. Tor shook out his hand, his chest heaving.

“I fucking hate you,” he seethed, tears in his eyes and pain in every bit of his expression.

Then, he spun around and pushed out the backdoor, slamming it shut behind him.

I didn’t go after him.