Strung(39)

I watch as she stands up and exits the room.

And like a fool, I reach for my phone and pull up the picture I took of Micah the first night I watched him perform.

The sight of him sitting there with his hair flowing around him while he plays his guitar has me throwing my phone across the room in anger and hurt.

I may have told myself that the only reason he pushed me away was because of Alexander, but I’m not so sure I’m fully convinced that was the only reason.

Maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t feel the same way about me as I do for him. If he did it wouldn’t be this easy for him.

It’s that thought that has me wishing I never went to California in the first place, because the idea of Micah not loving me back hurts worse than anything I could ever imagine . . .





TONIGHT IS THE GRAND OPENING for Express, yet I don’t feel nearly as excited as I thought I would when I look around at the final setup.

Ever since I forced myself to tell Tegan to walk away, I’ve felt like a huge part of me is missing. It’s been eating at me, making it hard to fucking sleep at night.

Opening Express and giving myself something to call my own has been my number one priority for as long as I can remember, but now I’m not so sure that’s it’s the most important thing to me anymore.

When Tegan was around I saw a future where she’d spend her nights with me at the bar, writing her books, while I performed weekly shows. And when I wasn’t performing I’d sit back with her and watch the other performers, us both enjoying the place together.

I still want that.

I want that so fucking much that it hurts.

I’ve bowed out and given them both time, but I’m not so sure I can stay away any longer. I was hoping that since tonight is the big night for Express that Tegan would’ve come by to wish me luck at least, but I haven’t heard from her in nine days.

The thought has me gripping the bar and hanging my head. I don’t know what the hell to do to make things right and it’s slowly killing me.

“Holy shit! Have you seen the crowd outside?” I raise my head to see Sebastian walking toward me, holding a package. “I had to fight my way through it just to get inside. It’s mad out there. I almost lost this,” he says, holding up the box.

“There were close to eighty people out there the last time I checked.” There’s no emotion in my voice. No excitement, and I can tell from the look on Sebastian’s face that he notices too.

“You good?”

I hold out my hand. “Yeah, I’ll take that.”

Knowing what’s inside the package has my heart about to beat out of my chest.

I knew Tegan’s book was due to release yesterday, so I jumped online and expedited my order, getting it here as quickly as possible.

I’ve been curious about the story ever since her face turned red when I asked her if she was writing about me.

He hands it to me, keeping his eyes on me as I look it over. “What the hell is it?”

“A book,” I say stiffly.

He laughs and readjusts the stack of napkins. “Oh yeah. I forgot you like read.” His smile fades when he looks up to see my facial expression. “Is it hers, Man?”

I nod and hide the package under the bar next to the register. Now I’m thinking about her even more, and the fact that she isn’t here has me wanting to do something out of character for me. “I need you to get Donovan and Jasmine clocked in and behind the bar to work, no later than six-thirty. The door doesn’t open until seven and the first performance doesn’t start until eight. I’ll be back.”

“Whoa.” Sebastian watches me with wide eyes as I reach for the book and head for the door. “Where the hell are you going and since when do you trust anyone else to run things? Especially me.”

“I have somewhere I have to go first.” I stop at the door long enough to turn around. “I trust you to get things started. I’ll be back before we open.”

He opens his mouth as if to say something, but before he can I step outside. The group has grown since the last time I was out here and even that isn’t enough to stop me from leaving.

A few girls whistle as I rush by them, but I don’t slow down. I just keep on walking until I’m jumping into my truck and headed to Alexander’s.

I barely have time to stop the truck before I’m jumping out and running to the front door, hoping with everything in me that she’s here and not at Vortex with Alexander.

When no one comes to the door after a few seconds, I knock again, desperate to get to her. I almost consider pulling out Alexander’s house key that I never gave back, but decide that he’d probably really kill me this time.

“Fuck it.”

I reach for the key and right as I’m about to stick it in the lock, Alexander answers the door, dressed all slick as if he has somewhere to be.

I can tell from his pissed off expression that he’s not happy with me showing up, but I don’t really give a shit about that right now.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Micah?”

“Where is she?” I run my hands over my face, anxious to get to her. “I need to see her, Alexander, and I’ll remove you from my path just to get to her right now. I don’t give a damn anymore, so don’t test me.”

With his jaw steeled, he steps outside and closes the door behind him. “She’s not here. I’m surprised you don’t know that already. I figured you would’ve contacted her by now.”

My heart stops at the mention of her not being here. “What the fuck does that mean?” I look up as he’s running his hands over his face. He looks torn. “Where the hell is she? Tell me. Now.”

“She’s gone.” He releases a long breath, looking me over. “She left almost a week ago.”

Panic sets in, and before I can stop myself I’m grabbing at Alexander’s shirt and getting in his face. “Tell me where the fuck she lives? I need to get to her. I’m sick of your shit.”

He shoves me away from him and fixes his shirt. “Down the block from my parents. She . . .”

“Text me the address.” I take off running for my truck, needing to get on the first available flight to Wisconsin.

“What about the grand opening for Express? What the fuck, Man? It’s in less than an hour.”

That shit is not even enough to stop me at this point. I jump into my truck and head for the airport, because I don’t want to do this without her.

It’s not that I can’t. It’s that I don’t want to.

Because this night doesn’t mean shit without her by my side—the girl that was there when it was just a mostly empty building and dirt on the floors.

Express can open any night of the fucking week, but making her wait for me to stop being a dumbass and come to her can’t.

I just hope I’m enough for her to come back with me . . .





TO GET ME OUT OF the funk I’ve been in since I arrived home, Whitney decided to invite a few friends over for a bonfire at our place tonight.

Everyone’s been listening to music and drinking around the fire, enjoying the nice night, but all I’ve been able to think about is Micah and how tonight was the grand opening of Express.

I want so badly to know how it went—is still going—but I’m stuck here instead of where I really want to be, all because I made a mess of things.

The thought has me more down tonight than I have been since everything first fell apart over a week ago.

I’ve been such a wreck that I haven’t even checked the sales for my new release, when usually I check it obsessively.

When I released my debut novel I must’ve spent the first month clicking that damn refresh button, counting every single sale that popped up on my dashboard.

None of that matters with this release, and it sucks, because just months ago that’s all that mattered.

Until I met Micah and fell for him like a fool. Now he’s the only thing that matters, and knowing that I’m missing the biggest day of his life hurts so damn much.

I was supposed to be there to see the proud look on his face when the door opened. I was supposed to be there to see him perform on his own stage in front of people for the first time. I’m missing it all and it’s killing me inside.

I came so close to buying a plane ticket this morning so I could stop in for a few minutes, but since I didn’t have any plans of letting him know I was there I decided it would only hurt me more.

Not going was probably a smart decision that I’ll thank myself for later.

“Tegan!” I look up from my spot on the porch step when Whitney yells across the yard at me. She’s sitting on Ethan’s lap, but plops down into her own chair. “Get over here with us and stop being a party pooper. Come on!” She slaps the chair next to her. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

Releasing a frustrated breath, I take a sip of my beer and stand up. I’ve been avoiding everyone for hours, so the least I can do is sit by them and pretend to be involved.

Pretending is something I’ll probably have to do for a while, so I might as well start tonight. Put on that damn happy face and wear it as best I can.

“It’s been over a week now, babe.” She grabs a S’more from Ethan and hands it to me as I sit down. “Eat this and live a little. I hate seeing you like this. Either call him or forget about him. But this . . . what you’ve been doing since you got back needs to stop. You’re miserable and you’re making me miserable too. It’s not fun.”