Page 240 of Silver Sweet

I was charged with trespassing since the venue essentially kicked me out. I was really inebriated that night. I drank whiskey straight out of the bottle. I wasn’t thinking clearly.

The second time, Heath tried to pull me off the heckler, and I caught him in the face with my elbow.

I broke his jaw.

The lead singer of my band.

I swallow hard. “Heath never pressed charges that night. He knew it’d been an accident, so nothing about him made the report.”

“I know. I called him.”

I drop my hands to my jostling thighs, seeing Charlie resting his ass against the table. He grips either side and stares down at me like we’re talking mundane things. How flowers grow and trees die.

Charlie tilts his head at me. “Do you want to know what he said, or do you need a bucket to puke in?”

I laugh dryly. Yeah, I’m sure I’ve turned sickly pale. “Bucket doesn’t sound half bad.” But for as shitty as this feels, there’s no universe I can walk out of this room without knowing what Heath told him, so I nod Charlie on. “Let’s hear it.”

“He said you were so remorseful that night, you would’ve swapped places with him if you could’ve. He also told me why you drank so much before the concert—the things that aren’t in the video. About your ex-boyfriend.”

Chase.

I nod dazedly, staring at the marble floor. “It doesn’t change the fact that I broke Heath’s jaw.” I wipe my runny nose with the side of my fist. “I haven’t told Tom everything yet, but I promised I would by the end of the tour. He hasn’t asked me for the details any sooner, and I’d appreciate you not telling himbefore me.” I look up at Charlie. “Pleaselet me tell him, man. Tom has wanted it to come from me. I don’t think he’d like you telling him.”

Charlie forces a half-smile. “I have no interest in being put on his uncreative shit list.” He studies me for a quiet beat. “What about Tom made you want to join his band?”

I frown. This question feels more off-the-cuff and not prompted by Beckett.

Charlie adds, “Heath said you quit playing after that night. You promised yourself you would never play in a band again. So what the hell did you find so special about Tom?”

I’m trying not to fucking cry as I remember. “It was the song. The one he sang when I first met him.” I wipe roughly at the wet streaks down my face. “You might not want me to be with your brother?—”

“You do know Tom, right?” Charlie cuts in irritably. “I’m hoping you do, and so you must know it’s a miracle he didn’t end up with someone with a harder rap sheet.”

I pinch my eyes, my lips quirking. “Oh, when he gets wind I cried in front of you, that’s probably it for me,” I say dryly. “Too soft for the nepo baby.”

“He’ll just tease you forever.”

“I might as well break up with him then.”

Charlie cringes. “Don’t. I’ll have to hear Tom mope forever instead.”

“What’s mopey Tom like?”

“The fucking worst.” Charlie sits beside me, sliding over the platter of fruit. “Have you ever seenWinnie-the-Pooh?”

I start laughing. “He’s like Eeyore?” I’m guessing. “The sad donkey?”

“If Eeyore stole every second of screentime from the entire cast.”

Tom.I feel myself smiling, then quickly frowning. I comb my hands through my hair again and watch Charlie cut a slice of honeydew. “There’s a bigger issue than my past,” I tell him.

“With Tom, I’m not surprised.”

“Can we redirect this energy then? Because your brother is on Adderall right now. And it’s not prescription.”

Charlie lets out a long, long laugh. “Of course he is,” he says dryly, then lets go of his fork, taking out his phone. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I don’t know how to get him to stop without hurting the band. I get it’s not coke or meth. But he’s taking it to stay awake during the tour. And our tour is likely going to be extended?—”