Page 5 of Silent Truths (Razor Monkees #1)

Tor

A thousand little dwarves were hammering away in my head, hacking away at my skull, when I slowly blinked my eyes open.

The room was still cast in darkness, thanks to the black-out drapes hanging over the windows and the door being closed.

Even our bathroom door wasn’t open, which meant the nightlight Salem and I kept in there was blocked from reaching the room like it usually did.

Groaning, I pushed myself into a sitting position, swallowing vomit as it rose in my throat.

Throwing up would only make my head hurt worse, and I couldn’t handle more pain throbbing inside my skull.

Slowly, with legs that felt like mere noodles beneath me, I slipped out of bed and padded barefoot to the bathroom, wincing at the nightlight.

It was a soft, yellow glow, but fuck , it still hurt like hell.

I took a moment to empty my bladder, my hand pressed to the wall above the toilet to keep me upright.

No doubt, I was still pretty drunk, but at least I could walk.

I had no idea how I’d even made it back to bed. Honestly, the last thing I remembered was being outside, staring up at the stars. How the hell had I even made it back into the house?

Knowing the rest of the house would be bright, I grabbed a pair of shades out of my nightstand and slipped them onto my face before meandering out of the bedroom, my steps slow and sluggish… not to mention, I was trying real fucking hard not to fall on my damn face.

Yeah… I was definitely still a bit drunk.

The smell of greasy bacon assaulted my nostrils, along with the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

I paused at the entrance of the kitchen, blinking in surprise at the sight of Salem standing in front of the stove in nothing more than a pair of black sweatpants riding low on his hips.

There was no shirt to be found, his slim, muscular body on display for me to ogle—which was fucking torture.

His hair was disheveled, like he’d rolled straight off the couch to come make breakfast.

And Salem never cooked. He fucking hated it.

He roughly cleared his throat. “I, uh, thought you could use some bacon and coffee this morning,” he muttered.

He jerked his head over to the small table, where a plate of bacon and a cup of coffee were sitting, along with two pain pills on a small, folded napkin.

“You should probably take those pills, too. You know, for your headache.”

Once upon a time, we had never been this awkward with each other. Weren’t so lost when it came to figuring out what the other needed and wanted. We’d known as if we were tending to ourselves. He was a part of me just as I was a part of him.

It’d only been a year and a half ago that we were so damn comfortable with each other, Salem knew exactly what I needed with one damn look. Just by being in my space, he knew what I was thinking.

But that felt so damn long ago now, and my chest ached with the loss. Every single fucking day, I suffered because he’d ripped himself away from me.

Instead of saying anything, I just made my way to the table and dropped down into the wooden chair before grabbing the pain pills.

I swallowed them dry and then shoved an entire piece of bacon in my mouth.

Bacon was my preferred hangover food, and it made me sad as fuck to know that Salem still remembered that.

Had taken the time to cook some for me because he knew I would need it this morning.

Had he been the one to bring me to bed?

I didn’t know, and I was too damn afraid to open my mouth to ask. Because what if that made him lash out at me yet again? We’d been at each other’s throats for months now—over a year. All because he was too much of an asshole to talk about what had happened between us.

I’d lost not just the man I was in love with that night, but I’d fucking lost my best friend, too. My rock. My soul mate. The one person I needed in this cruel world.

I felt that loss every fucking second of the day. It was a hollow feeling inside my chest, and no matter what I did, I could never fill it.

I’d just finally resorted to trying to numb the constant, throbbing pain. To fill the emptiness with liquor.

The silence in the room was tense, only broken by the sound of Salem finishing up the bacon he was frying and him making himself another cup of coffee. When he sat down at the table beside me, my entire body tensed like a coiled spring. I was ready to leap from the table at a moment’s notice.

But Salem didn’t say or do anything. He just ate his breakfast, and when I finally stood up from the table to rinse my plate off and my cup out, I could feel his eyes boring into my back.

I didn’t dare turn around.

Instead, once I’d placed them in the dishwasher, I just made my way back to our room, not uttering a word.

Not even a thank you.

Because honestly, after what the fuck Salem had put me through, he didn’t deserve a fucking thank you.

Quite frankly, he could have a horse cock shoved up his ass.

I looked up at Kalin when he stepped out onto the back patio. I lifted my blunt to my lips, arching a single brow at him, trying to prompt him to tell me why he’d come barging into the peace I’d finally managed to find.

“Delia called,” he told me. “She wants all of us at Nightshade for a meeting.”

I sighed and put out my blunt before stuffing it in the plastic tube I kept it in.

Kalin held out a hand to me, and I slapped my palm against his, allowing him to pull me up from the concrete.

“You okay, bro?” Kalin asked, concern washing through his eyes as he took me in.

I knew I looked like shit—bags under my eyes, loose-fitting clothes, fucked-up hair.

I grimaced. “I’m fine,” I muttered, yanking my hand out of his.

I headed into the house, my eyes immediately falling on Salem, who was standing by the front door in a pair of ripped skinny jeans, scuffed-up black combat boots, and a black hoodie.

He was twirling the keys around his finger, looking directly at me.

Then, he grabbed a to-go mug of coffee from the small foyer table beside him, holding it out to me.

What the fuck had gotten into him? And why did his sudden acts of care make my heart flutter in my chest?

I didn’t want to feel shit that pertained to him.

I reached forward and took it from him, being extra careful that our fingers didn’t brush.

But again, just like this morning, I didn’t say a fucking word to him.

I kept my lips firmly shut as Spike opened the front door.

And then, I walked past Salem, giving him a wide berth so I wouldn’t accidentally brush against him.

All the while, my heart stayed behind with Salem, bleeding all over the floor, pleading for Salem to love it as much as it loved him.

That was just wishful thinking though. And honestly, I was so fucking tired of hoping for Salem to change back into the guy I used to love.

Delia handed all of us information packets as if we were mere middle school kids who needed everything outlined for them.

“Nightwork Records is a sponsor of a festival happening in Spring Harbor,” she began to explain, her heels clicking across the tile of the floor as she began to pace.

I flipped through the packet, screwing my nose up at all the information.

Sighing, I tossed it down, not giving it another bit of my attention.

I’d never manage to remember all that information.

The guys would let me know what was important.

She shot me a dark look, but I just let a fake, sweet smile tilt my lips. She scoffed, seeing right through me. Delia was a bitch, but she was a damn good manager.

“You’ll be playing there to represent us.

You’ll spend the day before the festival begins participating in community service, and Giselle will be there to photograph all of you for publicity.

” I clenched my jaw. I hated it when they used the good deeds we did as fucking good publicity.

I’d voiced my distaste of it numerous times before, but I was always ignored.

I was here to write, sing the music, and make money. Not a damn thing more. They’d made that abundantly clear.

“On the days of the festival—July fifth, sixth, and seventh—you’re expected to mingle. Take pictures. Sign autographs. Be friendly and show that you’re still human despite your fame.”

Salem grunted. He hated interacting with people. This was going to be pure torture for him.

I almost smiled. He wouldn’t be damn near as uncomfortable as I’d been for the past year and a half, but it would be something . And right then, I’d take anything I could fucking get.

“Read through those packets,” Delia ordered. “If you call me asking a question that’s answered in that packet, I’ll hang up on you. Are we clear?”

We all nodded. She flounced from the room without a backward glance, her annoying heels clicking along the tiles. I sighed and reached up, rubbing my temples before pushing back from the table. I snatched the packet of papers up and rolled it before shoving it into my back pocket.

“I’m going out,” I announced, heading for the door so I could get the fuck out of here and away from Salem.

“No, you’re not,” Salem growled, standing up as well.

I glared at him. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” I demanded, my temper spiking. He had no right anymore to tell me what I could and couldn’t do. He’d lost that privilege.

“Not here,” Spike snapped, stepping between us when Salem rounded the table, narrowing his eyes at us. “Finish this shit at home.”

I clenched my jaw. “I said I’m fucking going out,” I snarled.

“And I said you’re not ,” Salem said with just as much heat in his words as I had. “Try me, and I’ll carry you out to the car over my fucking shoulder, Tor.”

I tightened my hand into a fist before storming out of the room. I gritted my teeth when I felt Salem’s hand wrap around my bicep—knew it was him without even having to look because I knew the callouses on his fingers, knew his heat. My body knew him as if he were a part of me.

“Salem…” I snarled, glaring at him, ready to fucking explode. He needed to let me the fuck go.

“Not. Fucking. Here,” Jesse hissed this time, glaring at both of us.

I rolled my lips into my mouth to keep from lashing out, feeling like I was crawling out of my fucking skin.

And it didn’t help that Salem still refused to let me go, even when I tried yanking my arm out of his grip.

He only tightened his hold, marching me toward the doors where our car was waiting.

“I fucking hate you,” I seethed.

He smirked without even looking at me, his eyes aimed straight ahead on the exit in front of us.

I hated even fucking more that he didn’t even bother to fucking respond.

What a dick .