Broken Little Melodies(71)

Chapter Twenty-One





Isabelle





The hours leading up to Broken Euphoria’s second performance pass in the blink of an eye. Hearing the story of how Roman’s dad beat him and knowing I wasn’t there for him has completely drained my spirit. And when I consider how I basically drove him right into Brooke’s arms…ugh, I can’t even go there. It’s bad enough knowing that she could be somewhere inside the stadium with Roman, begging him to reconsider dumping the “skank from camp.” I have no right to be jealous, except that I’ll always think of him as my Roman—even during those dark times we couldn’t be together.

As I’m getting dressed for the show, it seems there isn’t enough makeup in the world to hide the fact that I’ve been crying on and off throughout the day. Roman was reluctant to leave me when Normie wanted him backstage, but I somehow convinced him I’d be okay even though I’m not. Staring back at my swollen eyes in the small bathroom mirror, I release a long sigh. Roman will know if I’m not there for his performance, but at this point there’s no faking happiness with the heavy feeling in my heart.

“There you are!” Nicki appears from behind the doorway. She’s cute as hell in a fashionably cut Slayer t-shirt and torn jeans, dark hair fixed in springy ringlets and a velvet choker around her neck. Her bright smile drops when our eyes meet. “Holy shit, girl. Are you alright?”

“No,” I admit, dropping the tube of concealer on the small countertop. “I’m not.”

Next thing I know, she’s leading me back into the kitchen. “Booze or comfort food?” she asks, leaving me propped against the sink to rummage through the cabinets.

“I doubt I could eat anything right now.”

“Booze it is.”

Soon she’s handing me a shot of something dark. “Wolf it down, sister. It’ll shock you out of this funk so we can carry on a real conversation.”

I tip the shot glass back, welcoming the warm burn of whiskey that trickles down my throat. But then I remember how Roman’s dad hit him over the head with a whiskey bottle, and my eyes fill with fresh tears.

“Oh, sweetie,” Nicki sighs, squaring up in front of me. She takes my arms in her hands, lips tilting with a sympathetic smile. “You know what my mom always tells me when I’m having a shit day? When life brings you down, you’re the only one who can pull yourself back up.”

Seeing the hopeful look she’s giving me, it’s almost impossible not to feel a little better. “What am I supposed to do with that advice?”

“I never really figured it out,” she admits with a little bubbling giggle. “But we have to try something or Roman won’t be able to keep the show going with you looking this despondent.” Her fingers drum against my skin and her eyes momentarily shift to their corners before she’s grinning at me. “You’re a performer too, right? You must enjoy it or I doubt you’d keep doing it. Maybe singing one of your favorite songs would get you back on track.”

I have to admit, being reminded that I have a new friend on this tour already has made me feel a little better. And when I consider her idea, I can’t help but grin. “I might know the perfect song.”

“Oh my god, this is so awesome!” she squeals, backing away. She pops her little butt up onto the countertop, swinging her legs and leaning forward. “From what Roman has said, I get the feeling I’m in for a real treat!”

Clearing my throat, I reposition myself and tip my head down, humming the opening notes to myself. Eyes closed, I belt out one of my all-time favorites of “Darling Nikki.”

As I continue the beloved Prince song, I don’t open my eyes. Its melody flows through my blood and repairs my soul. Even though I’m standing on a bus, thousands of miles from where I grew up, it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to being home since losing my parents. As the lyrics wash over me, I’m able to appreciate the fact that I’ll never be lost as long as I have music.

Once I’ve finished the final verse, I flip my eyes open and shrug. “Then there’s a lot of screaming and guitar riffs that follow.”

Nicki stares back at me, slack-jawed and bug-eyed. “Belle…that was—”

“Fucking amazing,” Roman’s deep voice rumbles through the room.

I turn to find him frozen by the stairway, already wearing the black jeans that perfectly sculpt his gorgeous ass and a plain gray t-shirt that stretches tightly across his thick chest. It’s one of those reoccurring moments I’ve been experiencing a lot lately in which I want to pinch myself, because I can’t believe I’ve been reunited with this beautiful man.