Page 47 of The Masks We Wear (Satan’s Angels #1)

I sigh, squeezing my eyes shut. Fuck that would be perfect, a dream come true.

I quickly remind myself that I have Lucy to take care of and that I can’t move to another state.

I also remind myself that I can’t uproot my whole life for a woman I would never be able to build a real future with.

Brody’s life is too out of control for me, we’re like two differently shaped puzzle pieces that don’t fit together. “I can’t do it, Carter. I have Lucy.”

He goes silent on the other end. “How about this, I’ll give you a month to think about it and then you let me know if that’s still your answer?”

I shake my head, “My answer will be the same.”

“We’ll see,” he protests. “One month.”

“Whatever, I’m hanging up now.”

Dallas promises, “One month,” he speaks right before I press the end call button, “Oh, and Harvey?”

“What?” I ask, annoyed.

“The mere fact that you didn’t care to discuss financial compensation or contracts for either of the two propositions I gave you shows me you’re considering it more than you lead on. Talk soon,” he declares before hanging up.

I stuff my phone back into my pocket and walk back into the studio, rubbing the spot between my eyes.

Fucking Dallas giving me something so heavy to consider.

I can’t just abandon Lucy and especially not to be with Brody.

I can’t be with her, end of story. But what if?

.... My mind wanders and I force the intrusive thought at bay.

The more time I spend with Brody, the more my priorities seem to shift and mold around her.

As if sensing she’s the bane to my thoughts, she meets my eye from where she sits on her knees on the floor and smiles at me warmly.

I feel all of my self control leaving me and get irritated with my weakness.

I can’t let thoughts of her or anything involving her throw me off track.

I need to remember what’s important isn’t that.

Lucy comes first and she always will. I need to make sure that nothing stops me from being able to walk away from Brody when the time comes.

The sour taste in my mouth that comes when I think about leaving her is telling enough that I care about her more than I let on with myself.

I need to put an end to it before it gets deeper, irreversible.

Brody

THREE SHOWS LEFT. THAT’S all. It’s bittersweet because I want this tour to fucking end, but at the same time, I don’t want it to because when the tour ends, my time with Harvey ends. How fucked up is that?

Since our night in the studio, I’ve almost completely wrapped up my song and I know what you’re thinking and no, I still didn’t tell the girls about my song.

I’m just not ready and I don’t think I ever will be.

I don’t know. I’m focused on the album and so are the girls.

I have no time to stress over a song that I’m not sure will ever be heard by anyone aside from Harvey and myself.

We’re almost finished working on a new song, leaving three unfinished.

We’re making impressive progress and it’s amazing how once the creativity starts flowing, it doesn’t stop.

We’re in Boca Raton, Florida, now working in a new studio.

Our Florida show is tonight and for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel anxious over it.

I feel calm when I think about getting up on the stage, the fear and stress over the various opinions of my fans and thoughts on me and what I went through foreign to me now.

I blame Harvey for the change in my self image.

He peeled the corner of the mask I wear up and left me to remove the rest myself and for that, I’ll forever be grateful to him.

Almost on instinct, my eyes find him in the studio.

He’s watching me from where he sits on the couch, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He forces a smile when he looks at me and I frown.

His eyes look darker than usual, haunted in a way.

He seemed fine before he stepped out to take that phone call, did something happen after?

I mouth “Everything okay?” to him silently and he just nods, avoiding my eyes before he pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts typing.

My face must look surprised and confused because Aria nudges my shoulder and whispers, “Trouble in paradise?” She wiggles her brows as she looks between Harvey and I.

I brush her off, muttering, “No.”

“How’s the sex been?” She whispers back, low enough so that only her and I hear.

My eyes widen. I never told her about Harvey and I hooking up. I never told anyone and neither did he. Is it that obvious that there’s something going on between us or did someone see something they shouldn’t have seen?

She rolls her eyes and smirks, “You think I’m stupid? Anyone with eyes can see the way the two of you look at each other and it’s not by any means professional. If that weren’t enough, the sexual tension in the room when both of you are in it is enough to melt my panties, that’s how hot it is.”

My jaw drops.

Ivory plops down next to me and joins our huddle, “What are we whispering about?”

Aria cups her mouth as she whispers back, feigning gossiping, “Brody’s sleeping with the babysitter.”

Ivory throws her head back and groans. “Fuck,” she huffs before she reaches into the back pocket of her pink, acid-wash jeans and produces two-hundred dollars. She slams the cash into Aria’s awaiting palm and Aria grins like the Cheshire cat as she folds the money up and tucks it in her bra.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Aria says arrogantly.

Did they place a bet on me? “Were you two bitches betting on me sleeping with him?”

Ivory gives me a look like she’s a parent talking to a child, “Duh. We knew from the first time you interacted with him it was inevitable. Aria just called the bet first and placed dibs on you guys fucking before I could. Totally corrupt, by the way,” she points at Aria with a scolding finger.

Aria shrugs, “I don’t know what to tell you. I saw a business opportunity and I took it.”

“You guys suck,” I complain as I let my eyes rove over a new sheet of lyrics. I’m doing it to have something to look at because my eyes are rolling over the words but not reading anything. I’m too distracted.

Ivory grins, “But you love us anyway.”

“Unfortunately,” I grumble.

Aria changes the subject, “How is it though? The sex?” She looks at Harvey over my shoulder and then back at us, fanning herself, “I bet he knows what he’s doing. He’s fucking hot.”

My cheeks turn bright red and I look down. I don’t want to talk about this with them when he’s sitting right behind me. “Guys, totally not a good time to talk about this.”

“If not now, when? Because whenever we ask you to hangout with us, you say no and end up in your room but now we know what you’re doing in the room,” Ivory protests knowingly.

I whisper, “Another time. I promise. We’ll hang out soon and it’ll be like old times, gossiping, and laughing, just with significantly less drugs and alcohol.

” I realize as I utter the words that I don’t crave the substances like I once used to.

I used them as a lifeline, as my mask to cover who I was so that the fans and the entire world would find me worthy.

Now? I truthfully don’t give a fuck what they think about me or if I’m worthy by their standards.

I’m worthy by my own fucking standards and I don’t care what anyone or their mother has to say about it.

The only person whose opinion matters to me is Harvey’s and his opinion of me has always been better than my opinion of myself.

I’m starting to see myself the way he sees me and there’s no greater gift that he could’ve ever given me.

––––––––

WE ROCKED THE FUCK out of that audience tonight and I gave them everything I had in me.

When the show ends, I hurry to my dressing room, looking for Harvey but he isn’t there.

I stop in my tracks, my brows knitting together.

He always waits for me in my dressing room.

I remember the invisible wall that seemed to be between us at the studio earlier and wonder if it has anything to do with him not being here but I quickly push that thought down.

I’m way overthinking this, there’s probably a reasonable explanation for everything.

About ten minutes later, when I’m changed out of my stage clothes and into a comfortable pair of leggings and a matching t-shirt, my dressing room door opens and Harvey enters. His face looks exhausted, mature in a way I’ve never seen it. “Hey,” I say awkwardly.

He raises his chin, “Hi,” before closing the door behind himself.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

He nods, “Fine.”

I feel anxiousness swirling around in my stomach. I wrap my arms around myself uncomfortably. “Are you hungry? I’m starving and I could use the company if you want to come with,” I offer, hoping to melt the ice around him.

He shakes his head, “I’m not hungry.”

“Oh….Okay,” I respond. My body stiffens in discomfort. Why does it feel like there’s a huge brick wall between us? I want to ask but I’m worried that it may trigger him if he’s angry.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We need to talk.”

My heart cracks and my chest deflates. I know where this is going and it isn’t somewhere good. “About?”

“Us.”

There it is. There’s my heart getting ripped clean out of my chest. I exhale, “Did I do something?”

He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair in a show of anxiousness, something I’ve never seen him do before.

Whatever he has to say must be serious if it’s got him this twisted up.

He drops his hands a moment later and looks at me, his eyes narrowing as he frowns, “Brody, I’m terminating our contract and going back home to Nevada. ”

I suck in a surprised breath and cover my mouth with my hand. My face leeches of all color as my eyes widen. “What?” I ask, my voice shaky.

He gives me a pained expression, “What we’re doing is wrong.

We both should’ve put a stop to our personal relationship a long time ago before it got to the point that your feelings were involved.

It was my job as a professional to make sure that you stayed clean, sober, and out of trouble and I succeeded in that job.

You don’t need me anymore which is why I’m leaving. ”

Your feelings. His words replay in my head.

He said my feelings and not his meaning he doesn’t have any for me.

I feel betrayed by his words, by the distance he placed between us.

I thought I meant something to him the same way he means something to me but I was so wrong.

My eyes water with treacherous tears and I’m so overwhelmed with a combination of anger and sadness in this moment that I don’t notice when a tear rolls down my cheek.

“My feelings? What about yours because I know this wasn’t one sided, Harvey. ”

He shakes his head at me, “I don’t have feelings for you.”

My heart cracks and tears in two at his words. Fresh tears pour down my cheeks. “So what was all this to you, then? A fucking game?” The betrayal in my tone is clear.

He gives me a stony expression, “You knew from the beginning that it was just physical, Brody. We both went into this knowing that. I’m sorry you got hurt, it was never my intention to hurt you.

We both knew there was a clock ticking from the beginning and that when the contract ended, we’d go back to our separate lives in separate states and worlds. ”

I look down to avoid his eyes. I can’t even look at him right now.

The whole time, this was just sex to him and nothing else, but for me?

It wasn’t just sex to me. It was falling in love with someone I never would’ve imagined I’d fall in love with.

It was feeling safe, cared for, and protected by someone for the first time in a long time and it felt like coming home after being on a ten-year tour.

I fell for him, heart and soul and all I was to him was a fuck and a paycheck.

“Forgive me for thinking I meant something to you when you meant everything to me,” my voice cracks on tears at the back of my throat.

He squeezes his eyes shut and looks down so that he doesn’t have to look at me. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? For making me fall for you or for leaving?” I demand.

“For both,” he says, his voice coming out low, wretched.

I shake my head, “When are you leaving?” I change the subject.

He gives me a hard look, “This was my goodbye. I have my suitcase waiting in the car.”

A sob escapes my throat and I try to muffle it by covering my mouth with my hand but it’s too late.

He sees the mess I am and he hears the sob escape me.

I cover my face with my hands in a weak attempt at hiding myself.

I hear his footsteps getting closer to me and they stop as he reaches out and cups my face in his rough palms, palms that once comforted me and made me feel safe.

Now they just remind me of what I’m about to lose when he leaves this dressing room.

He wipes my tears away with his thumbs and I let him, why do I let him?

He lowers his voice, leaning in close, “I’m so fucking proud of you, Brody.

You’ve come so far in such a short amount of time and that isn’t my doing, it was entirely yours.

You wanted to get better and you did and I just guided you while you did all the work.

I want you to stay this way because you’re the best version of yourself that you can be when you’re clean and sober and you know it.

You’re capable of accomplishing anything you set your sights on and you have the ability to captivate millions of people with the sound of your voice and that brilliantly creative mind of yours. ”

More sobs wrack my chest at his words. He’s giving me whiplash with how he pushes me away only to pull me back in. “Promise me one thing before I leave?”

“What?” I croak.

“Keep the mask off, Brody. Show them who you are. Prove them wrong,” he says before he leans in and kisses my forehead.

He takes a step back a second later, forcing distance between us.

We exchange one long, hard look before he turns on his heel and walks away from me like it’s nothing.

Meanwhile, I’m here trying to keep the shattered pieces of myself together so they don’t fall and scatter all over the floor.

He opens the door and takes a step out, looking at me one last time over his shoulder. “Goodbye, Little Rockstar.” Are the last words Harvey Taylor says to me before he closes my dressing room door behind himself, leaving me alone with a broken heart and ocean of tears.