Page 17 of Vengeful Melodies

Chapter Six

Sebastian "Bash" Andrew

The little diner Grey dragged us to sits quietly nestled between a bookstore and an arcade.

Grey fidgets, staring at his hands as we wait for whoever he’s meeting here. He said he found a solution to our problem—but didn’t want to bring it to the managers until we’d met said solution ourselves. See if it fits. See what we think. He was up late last night talking to them after we left the bar.

I know Grey. I know that he hides his sexuality so others won’t feel uncomfortable. How he says he’s bisexual, but he’s been with more men than the three women he’s ever truly given his time to.

I know he hasn’t been happy with anyone but us in years—keeps himself guarded, doesn’t allow himself to feel anything for anyone. He’s too busy holding us together, keeping us out of rehab... or the morgue.

And I feel guilty for being such a heavy load to carry when all he's ever done is love us unconditionally.

“What’s wrong, Bashy?” Grey tilts his head, taking me in from head to toe. “You nervous too?” he asks with a crooked smile.

“Nervous about what? Playing a sold-out show after my latest scandal, or meeting your so-called solution to our problem?” I shoot back sarcastically, biting at the skin on my lower lip. The nervous energy in my stomach threatens to bring up the half-eaten bagel I forced down earlier.

“Can it be both, Bash? It’s okay to be nervous. It’s okay to put yourself out there after what happened. Don’t let them take that away from you—just because you’re famous. You’re allowed to be human, too,” Grey says, his voice low and serious. He rolls his eyes toward the guys, who are too caught up in whatever paparazzi bullshit’s floating around to notice us.

Me? I avoid that shit now. Ever since the end of last year when I was accused of faking a suicide attempt—for clout. They said my inpatient stay at Dravensin Institute was just a vacation, not the mandatory psychiatric hold ordered by the label.

Depression is a brutal beast. And every time you try to treat it, the world treatsyoulike a joke. Like being a rich rockstar disqualifies you from despair. Like we’re not allowed to crave the silence of death when our minds get too dark to see the light.

They all think I’m the happy one. Always cracking jokes, always smiling.

But the truth is, I’m just as shattered as the rest of us. I want to be happy. I want to live a life worth something. One where I’m not constantly judged for every mistake I make, like I’m not allowed to fuck up. I’m twenty-four. I’m still learning. It should be okay that I don’t have it all figured out yet.

“You and I both know that’s not the case, G,” I say quietly, looking away from his piercing eyes. I don’t want to be seen. I want to disappear.

“You’re right,” he replies softly. “We can’t all be rockstars. But that doesn’t mean you’re alone in this. You’ve got me. You’ve got the guys. Just stop trying to carry it all yourself. Let me help.”

Grey leans over the table, his broad frame casting a shadow as he wipes away a tear I didn’t even know had fallen.

I open my mouth to respond—but a deep, masculine voice saying Grey’s name cuts me off.

This must be the solution... and a damn good reason to be flushed in the cheeks.

The man’s gorgeous—magazine-cover beautiful.

Grey stumbles, bumping into the table, and the guys finally snap out of their zone. Their surprised expressions mirror my own.

Damn, Grey. Didn’t know you had it in you.

“Hello, I’m Wren. Wren Everson,” the man says confidently. “Grey mentioned you needed help, and I think I’d be a perfect fit for the position. My partner, Dreya, would be an asset to your marketing department during the tour.”

Wren’s straight white smile flashes as his eyes settle on Grey.

Alix perks up at the mention of Dreya’s name, and I won’t lie—my curiosity spikes.

“Nice to meet you properly,” Koa says, his deep British accent smooth as ever. “Are you sure you both can leave your current responsibilities behind for two years?”

Wren cocks his hip, black-inked hair falling into his eyes. “I’m an audiobook narrator. I’ve got no one but Dreya and my service dog, Jack. Two years away is fine—so long as she gets hired too.”

“What about her?” I ask, tilting my head. “You answered for yourself. How do we know she can just up and leave, too?”

Wren’s face darkens. “She found out yesterday that her ex-fiancé was cheating. Same day, she lost her house—the one she helped pay for—and the job she was working while going toschool. All because of him. We only have each other now. No family. No ties. No one.”

Alix shifts in his seat, his expression unreadable for a moment before he smooths it over.