Page 157 of Graves

“Hey, Alex!” I say with a grin. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” the boy mumbles, climbing onto his father’s lap.

“You probably don’t remember me.”

“Dad told me about you. Is it true you went to prison?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

I falter for a second and glance at Liam. I’m surprised he didn’t make up some story. Or maybe Alex is still too young to understand?

“I made a mistake,” I say, trying to brush it off with a playful smile. It doesn’t come easily.

My phone vibrates. A new message from Koh.

“I like the apartment. It’s great. But I miss my roommate.”

He knows how to leave me speechless. Because I feel exactly the same. I miss him. My apartment feels painfully lonely without him.

I’ve caught myself multiple times over the last few days imagining Koh sitting on the couch with his laptop on his lap and Pixie beside him, waiting for me. How he’d look up when I came home, black strands falling over his forehead. He has no idea how sinfully good he looks like that.

But when I walk through the door now, there’s only crushing emptiness.

“I miss my roommate too.”

I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but it feels like Koh just tore down my thick walls with a few simple words.

“Aran doesn’t look like a criminal,” Alex tells his father.

Liam grins and raises his glass to me. “That’s because he’s smiling. When Aran smiles without realizing it, that’s a very good sign. Means he’s actually a big softie.”

I hadn’t noticed I was smiling.

“And now he’s embarrassed. See that crease between his brows? Classic.”

Alex’s laughter is accompanied by a happy squeal.

“See?” Liam grins. “When the little guy laughs, there’s still hope for you.”

“Guys!” Leslie calls, holding up her phone to get everyone’s attention. “Great news! The label is offering you a contract for two more albums! Isn’t that amazing?”

Mike and Sam high-five. Liam does one with Alex.

I grab my glass—which looks like it contains orange juice—pretend to toast, and down the vodka in one go.

As if someone flipped a switch, I feel sick. All the warm feelings Koh stirred up inside me evaporate. The knot in my chest tightens. Like thick slime, the craving for more alcohol spreads through my veins and tingles in my fingers. I can literally feel the poison settling into every fiber of my body.

“Aran, ten minutes,” Leslie informs me.

On unsteady legs, I disappear into the bathroom to warm up my voice. I only half-hear the congratulations about the new contract.

I go through my warm-up exercises while staring at the man in the mirror—he feels more like a stranger to me than ever before.

Is this really the Aran Graves the label wants?

The one the fans want?