Текст книги "Untamed"
Автор книги: S. C. Stephens
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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 29 страниц)
Chapter 18
The Price of Awesomeness
Two months later, as the end of the year approached, so did the end of my lie, and the end of my rope. I could almost see it dangling in the distance, taunting me with everything I wanted but couldn’t seem to get. No record label would take me. Most wouldn’t even talk to me, but the ones who did all said the same thing: No. Sometimes, Hell no. I wasn’t sure what to do next.
Even though I’d been in a band for years, I had no clue how to go about making music. I only had a handful of completed songs under my belt, besides my rapidly produced demo that had no music other than my awesome background noises. My favorite song was entitled Cocknado. It was fucking amazing, but at this rate no one was going to get to hear it.
I hounded everyone I could think of, even Justin. “What gives, bro? I thought you were getting me an in with your label?”
There was a long sigh on his end of the line. “I never said that. When you asked¸ I said I’d give it to them, and I did. It’s not my fault they said no. There’s only so much I can do, Griffin.” The calmness in his voice was clearly forced.
“Well, I guess being friends doesn’t go as far as I thought it did in this city.” I hung up the phone before he could respond, then I threw the phone against the wall. The cover over the battery pack broke off when it clattered to the floor. Damn it.
A small tap on the doorframe was followed by the words “Griffin? You okay?”
I looked over to see Anna standing there, supporting Onnika on her hip. I made myself smile. God, I hoped she hadn’t heard any of that. “Of course. What could possibly be wrong with me? I am the epitome of awesome after all.”
She cocked an eyebrow, then glanced at the broken phone. “You sure? Is it the show? Have they given you an airdate yet?”
A spark of hope flashed over her face, followed by confusion. She didn’t understand why the studio was keeping me in the dark. And she didn’t understand because she didn’t know that I was lying my ass off every day; I was even still dying my hair brown to keep her as clueless as possible. It was just to save her stress though. She might have a heart attack if she knew I was unemployed and we were hemorrhaging thousands of dollars every month…Fuck, I needed to fix this. Fast. “Not quite. But soon, I’m sure.”
She pursed her lips, and the discouragement and frustration on her face was clear to see, even for someone as boneheaded as me. “Well, keep calling them. They can’t just not pay you. It isn’t right.”
I opened my mouth to give her some more unfounded encouragement, but she turned and left before I could. Stepping over to the phone, I threw it against the wall again. Damn it. What the hell was I going to do? If no label would take me and I couldn’t get a stream of cash flowing again…Anna and I would be flat-broke in another couple of months. And she’d leave me. She’d leave me for lying, she’d leave me for dragging her down her, she’d leave me for not fulfilling my role as her provider. I’d never see her or the girls again. Fuck.
Desperation washed over me, and for a brief second as I stared at the phone in pieces on the floor, I considered calling the D-Bags. Maybe if I begged hard enough, Matt would let me back. Or maybe if I went to Kellan instead. It was more his band than anyone else’s. Yeah. I could go to Kellan and bypass Matt completely.
But just the thought of doing that made my skin crawl. I’d have to endure countless hours of ribbing: Remember when you tried to do a TV show, but it was a complete and total failure that never even made it on the air? Remember when you tried to make an album, but no one would take you? Remember when you tried to stand on your own two feet like you didn’t need us? How ridiculous of you to think you could survive without us. We’re the reason you’re not a floundering piece of shit, and don’t you forget it. Now shine our shoes…
No thanks. I’d rather flounder than subject myself to that. They could kiss my ass. If no label would take me, then I’d make my own. A spark of excitement burned away my moment of anxiety. Yes, that was exactly what I’d do—make my own label, make my own record.
Turning on my computer, I went through the online Yellow Pages and started finding people in the industry. By the time I’d contacted everyone I thought I might need, I had at least a dozen new people on my payroll. This was going to shrink my bank account so much faster than even Anna had anticipated, but it was a gamble that was going to work. It had to work.
But I would need money to get this started. A lot of money. Looking around my castle, I slowly came to a hard conclusion…Anna was right. It was time to downsize. I knew she would be on board with it, but I didn’t know how to tell her why I was suddenly agreeing to it. The truth seemed like my only option.
Well, a vague, hazy version of the truth. The longer I could keep her in the dark, the better.
That evening, I approached her after she put the girls down to bed. She could tell something was up by the look on my face. “What?” she asked, her voice tentative.
My palms were sweaty, and I kept wiping them on my jeans. Shit, I had no idea how she’d react to this. “I have a confession to make.” Fuck. I should just tell her everything. She deserved to know the truth—that she’d married a fucktard who messed everything up. She’d be so pissed though…she’d storm out and I’d never see her again. I couldn’t handle that possibility. No, I was in too deep to back out. All I could do was keep plowing forward and hope this album fixed all my fuckups.
Eyes wide, cheeks pale, she sat on the bed and put her hands in her lap. “Okay…what?” She stared at me with fear in her eyes, and I wondered what she thought I was going to say. Did she suspect the truth? Or did she think it was something as simple as cheating? I almost wished I could tell her I’d done something with another woman. Confessing that would be easier than confessing I was a lying, asshole failure. But no…I wasn’t confessing that tonight. I was delaying that information. Again.
“Uh…earlier today…when I tossed the phone across the room…it wasn’t nothing.” A sigh escaped me and bile started rising up my throat. I didn’t deserve her. “The studio called. They pushed the show back again. We’re not going on until next fall now…” Fuck. How deep was my hole now? Deep enough to bury myself in, I was sure.
Anna shot up off the bed. “What? Are you serious? Why the fuck would they do that?” She started pacing and wringing her hands together. “They’re not going to wait until next fall to pay you, are they? Because we can’t go that long, Griffin. We’re sinking here.”
If she only knew how much. “Yeah…they are. I guess it was in the contract, I just didn’t notice it. I don’t get the bulk of my pay until the show airs.” That sounded believable, like something I would do, and actually, with the full season stipulation in the contract, that was close to what I had done. I’d thrown my life away for an illusion. But I was getting it back now. Fuck, this had to work.
Anna turned to face me and fire was burning in her eyes now. “You didn’t notice? How could you not notice getting completely fucked over? This is absolutely ridiculous. Give me the phone, I’m calling Harold.” She stuck her hand out, but I ignored the gesture.
“I signed a contract, Anna…it’s already done.” The show is already over. “I’m sorry.” For all the lies I’m telling you right now. For everything.
Hands balling into fists, her voice trembled when she spoke. “Sorry? You’re sorry?” One finger uncurled to point at me; it was trembling in her anger. “You said this would work. You assured me that it would all be okay. I trusted you when you said we weren’t throwing away our livelihood for nothing!”
Raising my chin, I looked her in the eye. If I seemed confident, maybe it would convince her that things were still fine. “It wasn’t for nothing.” I hoped it wasn’t for nothing. No, I prayed it wasn’t for nothing.
The expression on her face shifted between panic, horror, and hope. “This is our future you’re playing around with, Griffin. Our future, and our daughters’ futures. We have to have a plan. What’s our plan?”
Sighing, I felt that weight on my chest grow even heavier. I could have sworn some ribs were cracking under the strain. “I can still make this work, Anna.” I think. “I just have to get some cash flow going while I wait for the show to start.”
“How?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.
“Well…now that the show is all caught up on episodes and I have more time…” Lots of fucking time. “I was thinking about putting together an album.” I debated telling her that I was going to fully fund the album myself…tell her the truth in at least one area of my life, but the steel look in her green eyes warned me not to. I had to skirt around the truth, or I was going to lose my fragile hold on her. In as optimistic a voice I could, I tossed out, “I’ll get myself a record contract, so we’ll have enough money to keep us in the clear until next fall.” And hopefully by then I’ll be a household name and you’ll have forgotten all about the show.
Anna clamped her mouth together so firmly, her lips turned white. It took her a full minute to calm down enough to speak. “So…instead of going to back to the D-Bags in the interim, who still don’t have a bassist, by the way…you want to form your own band? Are you doing this just to show them up? Are you really that angry at them?”
Her words made a flash of bitter heat run up my spine. Yes, I was. Guess letting go wasn’t something I was much good at. “No, this is what I was meant to do. I’m not doing a group thing again. I’m going solo. It’ll be just me, rocking the world.” Carefully approaching her, I wrapped an arm around her waist. “What do you think of that, babe? You’ll be married to the hottest solo artist of all time.”
She didn’t look as awed by that statement as she should have been. “I don’t mean to sound insulting, but…do you even know how to put together an album?”
No, not really. To hide my doubt, I smiled. “This is going to work, and it’s going to be great.” When she still didn’t look convinced, I added, “I’ll get help, okay? As much help as I need. In fact, first thing tomorrow, I’ll start calling record labels. Everything else will fall into place. You’ll see.”
Anna cocked an eyebrow at me. I felt like I was still in dangerous territory, so I said the most honest thing I could say. “You were right. Being a rock star has always been my dream. And I think music has been in the back of my mind ever since I left the D-Bags. I miss the stage, miss performing.” I miss the guys. Shaking off that errant thought, I told her, “Now just seems like the perfect opportunity to do something about it, since I’ve got time…” She narrowed her eyes, so I quickly changed topics. “I think you were right about the house and about our expenses though. I think we need to scale down.”
For the first time since our conversation began, her expression softened. “Well that, I can definitely get on board with.” Wrapping her arms around my neck, she looked around our opulent bedroom. “This house is way too big.”
Yeah…I was gonna miss it though. But tough times called for tough decisions. Like constantly keeping my wife two steps behind the truth.
A few weeks later, the house was almost packed up, and we were narrowing down where we wanted to rent. I’d already hired the crew who’d be creating my epic solo album masterpiece, and each one of them cost ten times more than I’d expected. I wasn’t a whiz at math, but I knew a financial black hole when I saw one. I hated to do it, but it was time to make even harder cuts, which meant…I needed to talk to my wife. Again.
Anna was in the living room with the girls, supervising while they played with dolls. Gibson was pretending that her doll was Onnika. She had her tied up with yarn and lying across a train set. The train was speeding down the tracks, and Gibson was making no move whatsoever to save the replica of her little sister.
Just when I was thinking that maybe I should have another talk with Gibson, Onnika decided to save herself. She waddled over to her distressed miniature and picked her up, right before the train collided with her. It made me feel connected to my youngest daughter. Exactly, Onnie. When life shits on you, sometimes you have to be your own superhero.
Gibson didn’t feel the same. She shoved Onnika backward, onto her plump diaper. I don’t think the fall hurt her, but the sudden movement definitely scared her.
Anna and I snapped at Gibson at the same time. Seeing us both upset made her cry, which made Onnika cry.
Girls. The tiniest things sent them into hysterics.
I held Onnika while Anna had a heart-to-heart with Gibson. With crying children in our arms, it was difficult to talk to my wife. Or maybe it wasn’t. She couldn’t kill me if she was trying to calm down our daughter. “So…I called a real estate agent today. I was thinking maybe it was time we put the house in Seattle up for sale.”
Anna stopped mid-cuddle and stared at me openmouthed. “You…? Really?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, I think we should. It seems like a waste of money, making payments on an empty house. And we’re trying to cut back, you know?”
“Oh, well I guess that makes sense,” she said, surprised but looking pleased. “Okay, yeah, make it happen.” She didn’t ask what we should price it at, and I was grateful. From what the agent had said, we were going to lose money on the deal; we’d paid way too much when we’d bought it.
Knowing I had to break the news to her sooner or later, I inhaled a deep breath, then said in a rush, “And actually, I was thinking…it’s stupid to waste money on renting a place right now. We should just save as much as we can until the show launches in the fall. I called Mom and Dad, and they said we could move back in with them. So…I told them we’d move in next month.”
Anna slowly closed her eyes, then shook her head. “If we’d just gotten something modest in the beginning…” she said. Her voice trembled in her effort to stay calm.
Setting Onnika down, I walked over to her. After scooting Gibson out of the way, I got down on my knees and looked up at her face. Feeling my presence, Anna opened her eyes. The green gems I adored were a little duller than before. That was my fault. The stress of dragging her down here, the stress of lying to her, everything I’d done recently had changed her. Me too. I felt worn from the inside out most days. I just needed something to work out like I planned it to.
“I know. I fucked up.” On so many things. “But the album will get us through until the fall. And then everything will be okay. I promise. I promise this will all work out, Anna.” It had to, because there were no more backup plans.
Her eyes widened, and the fear in them was unmistakable. “You don’t make promises.”
Nodding, I told her, “Exactly. But on this…I am. Just don’t give up on me. Okay?” Please see this through with me.
She was silent so long that I was sure she was going to tell me my crazy antics were finally too much for her and she was out of here. Jesus, I really hoped she didn’t say that. I couldn’t handle the sudden uncertainty of my life without her by my side, which was why I was selfishly piecemealing the truth to her. If I told her how fucked we really were, she’d be gone.
Anna studied me for a minute longer, then said, “Okay, Griffin. We can live with your parents. Until the fall.”
The sudden relief made me light-headed. Thank God. I at least had until the fall to dig myself out of this gargantuan hole I’d created. Hopefully that was enough time.
It didn’t take much to convince Anna that we should purge our household items so we had a safety net until the show took off. We sold most of the big-ticket items—like my fucktastic Hummer and some of Anna’s jewelry. Everything else we put into storage. We were going to live simply for a while, which kind of sucked for everyone, but it was only temporary. I’d get everything back, and then some.
We moved into my parents’ place with only a week’s worth of clothes each and a handful of toys for the girls. All of our stuff fit into four boxes that I stuffed in Dad’s minivan, since all of my cars were gone. Most everything of real value was gone. But surprisingly, Alfred was the hardest thing for me to part with. I’d gotten attached to having someone on hand to satisfy my every whim. I’d maybe even grown fond of the quiet, obedient ghost of a man himself, who seemed to appear out of nowhere right when I needed him the most. I teared up when I told him his services were no longer required. His only response was a curt nod goodbye. Damn my bad luck. And bad choices.
After the last of our boxes were shoved into my childhood bedroom, Anna sat on the bed and sighed. While Gibson jumped on the mattress and Onnika took halting steps around the room, I sat on the bed beside Anna. Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, I told her, “It could be worse.”
As the kids started fighting over a toy sticking out of a box, Anna tilted her head at me in question. “Really? How so?”
I opened my mouth to answer her, but before I could, Onnika threw up over everything inside the box. Well, that could happen.
Or you could find out just how fucked we really are.
Chapter 19
Not That Awesome
Almost every day, someone seemed to ask for more money—my songwriter, my producer, the guy designing my album cover, the recording studio, and even my family. They were all siphoning me dry. The house in Seattle finally sold, but with what I still owed on it, my bank account was hovering in the mid-four-digit mark. That wouldn’t last long in this city.
“What do you mean you need another five thousand,” I asked my songwriter when he upped his price yet again.
“I had to pay out of pocket for the musical arrangement. I just want to be paid back for expenses that are rightfully yours.”
I ran a hand down my face, discouraged. If I paid him five grand¸ I’d have nothing but pocket change left. “Musical arrangement? I thought I paid you for that shit. Why do I have to pay someone else?”
He sighed like he’d explained this to me a dozen times already. I wasn’t sure if he had or not. Dude had a tendency to talk like he was Shakespeare or something. “Like I said before, my genius is combining words into flowing art forms that glow with life and pulsate with sound. But I need a partner to make the words take flight. And five grand. Per song.”
“Per song? Are you fucking high?” When he didn’t respond, I growled, “Fine. I’ll get you the fucking money.”
Hanging up the phone, I cursed and refrained myself from chucking it against the wall. I couldn’t break my dad’s handset too. “Well, great. What the fuck do I do now?” I asked Onnika, standing at my feet. She only stared up at me with her dark eyes and gave me a tooth-filled smile. “Being adorable won’t help.” I told her.
Closing my eyes, I groaned and considered my options. My parents? My brother or sister? The guys? No, none of those were doable. If I was going to get the amount of money I needed, I would have to do something stupid. Because I couldn’t let Anna know how screwed we were. The only reason she was still on board with any of this was because of the TV show. The ace in the hole, or so she believed.
Deciding to just do it before I could think too much about it, I called my credit card company and had them raise my limit. Then I called the bank and set up an appointment to get a loan. I had to. I’d never get out of this mess if the album never got finished. And if I didn’t finish it, my marriage was over. I just knew it.
Tossing the phone onto the mattress, I reached down for my daughter. The house was oddly quiet for a change; the peace was nice. Onnika was in that busy stage where she didn’t really want to be held, she just wanted to be free. As I suddenly felt a collar being shackled around my neck, I understood, and I released her so she could do as she pleased. Scrambling over to the phone on the bed, she picked it up and start punching buttons while saying my name.
“Don’t let her fall off the bed¸ babe.” Appearing in the doorway, Anna pointed at Onnika.
Walking over to me, Anna sat herself in my lap. My cock instantly twitched in excitement. Our sex life had dwindled some, since we were sharing a room with the kids. And sneaking off to have sex in the shower, while great, was starting to wear thin. I just wanted to fuck my wife senseless on a king-sized mattress with no child within earshot. God, I missed those days.
Lacing her arms around my neck, Anna asked, “Have you heard back from the producer? Can I hear the first song yet?”
A twinge of guilt ran through me so fast, it instantly killed my arousal. I hadn’t wanted to lie about leaving all the time to record the album, so a few days after we’d moved in with my parents, I’d told Anna a half lie—that a record label had picked me up. She’d been excited to hear that, and proud, which had made me feel pretty goddamn shitty. Honestly, it still made me feel shitty. But having hope on the horizon had eased Anna’s mood and her mind, so the lie was almost worth the regret. Almost.
The song that she was curious about was the first single. I’d recorded it last week, but the guys I’d hired were still tweaking it. Seemed odd to me that they needed to. Once a D-Bags song had been laid down, it was good to go…no alterations required. But I’d heard the raw cut of the single, and I agreed with my producer. It needed…something.
Frowning, I told her, “No, not yet…it’s not good enough.”
By the look on Anna’s face, it was obvious she was shocked to hear me admit that. I could understand why. Typically¸ I loved everything I did. But I wasn’t all that fond of myself at the moment, and I was under a lot of pressure. This album needed to be perfect. “Not good enough? You always think everything is…well, amazing.”
Yeah, but I have so much more riding on this than I usually do. My entire world is wrapped up in that CD…you just don’t know that. Smiling, I shrugged. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, it’s spectacular, but it’s just not quite the right level of awesome yet.” I pinched her butt. “You just have to wait.”
Giggling, she squirmed on my lap, lightening my mood and making my dick harden back up. Then Onnika laughed and I completely lost it. Goddammit. If we didn’t get out of here, I might not ever have sex again.
Anna let out a long sigh as she threaded her fingers through my hair. It was wistful, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she missed having sex with me too. Rubbing her back, I murmured, “Maybe Mom and Dad can watch the kids tonight, and we can borrow the car? Take a drive somewhere nice and quiet…get freaky in the backseat?” I wriggled my eyebrows at her and she smirked.
“You want to borrow your parents’ car and make out at a lookout point.” Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “It’s like I’m fifteen again.”
Ignoring the humor in her tone, I said, “Just an idea. You seemed like you wanted to do me, that’s all.”
She made another wistful sigh. “No…that’s not what I was thinking about.” When I gave her a funny look, she smiled and amended her statement. “Yes, I do want to do you, and not just hidden away in the pantry, but…” She sighed again. “Kiera called this morning. She’s pregnant…”
By the way she said it, and the way she stared at Onnika beating the phone against the mattress, it was clear she wanted to be pregnant again too. “You want to try for another one, babe? ’Cause we can put Onnie down for a nap, find Gibson, and…” Peering over Anna’s shoulder, I listened for my eldest daughter. “Where is Gibson anyway?”
Anna shook her head and answered my first question. “We can’t afford another baby right now, Griffin. Not until the show starts.” By the way she said it, she was holding on to that possibility like it was a lifeline. Like she was hoping the album did well, but the show was her true salvation. A horrible feeling welled within me—it was corrosive, like battery acid, and for the millionth time, I thought I should just tell her the truth. I opened my mouth to do it right as Gibson ran into the room holding a foot-long snake.
“Look, Mommy! It’s squirmy!”
Gibson laughed. Anna screamed. And the truth never made it past my lips.
Thanks to loans and credit cards, I was able to pay all the people I owed money to and was able to finish my album. It took two more very long months to do it, but I eventually had a full, finished record. And even though the album was the best thing I’d ever heard while I’d been recording it, I was nervous to hear the final product, scared even. It was a strange feeling for me. I was never nervous. For anything. Maybe it was the stress of living with my parents. Maybe it was the fact that I owed a shitload of money that I wouldn’t be able to repay if this album wasn’t a hit. Maybe it was because I had a ton of pressure on me now, like never before. Or maybe it was just the fact that I was doing this alone, without Anna 100 percent beside me, because she didn’t know the whole story. I hated it. In many ways, life had been so much easier when I was with the D-Bags.
On the night the album went live for preordering, I brought a copy home for everyone to listen to. Mom invited the family over for dinner and made a batch of her world-famous lasagna. I almost wished she hadn’t, since I was kind of freaking out about this CD—literally everything I had was riding on this album—but I supposed it was only appropriate to have the people I cared about most there for the unveiling. It better be good. I couldn’t afford for it to be anything less than amazing.
While dinner cooked, I sat everyone down in the living room. My palms were sweating, I was so tense. Damn it, I hated clammy hands. This was my moment of glory. I should be flying high, so full of confidence it bordered on arrogance. And any other time I would have been, but this flimsy little disc was either going to make me or break me. Fuck.
Grabbing the plain CD case, I showed it to my family. “This is going to blow your mind.” I hoped they bought the assurance, since I didn’t really feel it.
Liam, leaning forward, asked, “Who is Figfrin Hancock?”
Wondering what the hell Liam was talking about, I looked at the CD case. Sure as shit, written in bold Sharpie across the CD were the words “Figfrin Hancock Demo.” What the fuck? “The idiot producer spelled it wrong, is all.”
Liam snorted. “Wow, if he can’t even get your name right, I can’t wait to hear this.”
Drilling holes into him with my eyes, I opened the case and popped out the CD. My stomach felt like I’d eaten a questionable taco from an even more questionable food truck. If I had antacids, I’d be downing them like candy. It made me wish I had a drink in my hand. Or several. Please let this be good.
The CD started to play, but oddly, what was coming out of the stereo wasn’t music. It was me complaining to the producer. “Is it going? I can’t hear the music. Should I be able to hear the music? Or am I supposed to fucking guess where we’re at in the song. Oh, wait…here we go. I hear it now. Let’s do this shit!” Then a hard-driving beat started. Weird that he’d kept that in, but oh well, I guess it worked. What didn’t work was the fact that I came in late. Even I could hear that I was a beat behind the rhythm. Chelsey and Mom had their eyebrows bunched, like they knew something was off. What the hell? I thought maybe it would correct when it got to the rapping section, but it didn’t. If anything, it was even more off.
Liam went into a fit of laughter during my rap montage. “Wait…are you rapping about deli meats? Oh my God, you are.”
Annoyed, I pressed the skip button. The next song was a ballad. Those were popular and impossible to mess up, so I felt better about the odds of it being good. Until I heard my voice. “What the fuck is wrong with this piece of junk?” I asked, examining the stereo for some lever that was adjusted wrong. My voice sounded like I was a robot singing through a tin can who couldn’t hold a note to save his life.
“Um, babe,” Anna’s quiet voice said, “I don’t think it’s the stereo. I think that’s how it was recorded.”
“Damn it,” I muttered, hitting skip again. But every song just got worse and worse.
When it was over, the room was silent. Even the kids were staring, speechless. Chelsey cleared her throat. “Griffin, they weren’t all bad…maybe a few could be cleaned up or rerecorded…”
I ran my hands through my hair as icy panic flooded my veins. No. This was supposed to be epic. It was supposed to fix everything…not make everything worse. “I can’t. They’ve already gone to distribution. This is the final product, and I don’t have any money left to fix it anyway. I spent every dime I had on this, maxed out every credit card. I’m fucking broke! I’d have to take out another bank loan just to buy the matches to burn this shit!” I threw the empty CD case against the floor, cracking the frame and breaking the hinge.
Anna stood from her spot on the couch; her face was ghostly white. “What are you talking about, Griffin? What do you mean you spent every dime? You said you got a record deal.”
Feeling my heart start to pound, my head start to swim, I tried to swallow the icy lump of shame in my throat. It wouldn’t budge. There was no way she would be okay with what I’d done. Not now, when I had nothing good to show for it. I was fucked. We were fucked. And it was all my fault…
“I tried, Anna. I did everything I could think to do, but no label would take me. The only way I could do the album was to make it myself. And it was so goddamn expensive, so much more than I ever thought it would be, but I had to find money somewhere. I had to. I couldn’t leave it unfinished.” Because this was the only chance I had. And now it’s gone.
Anna started breathing heavier; she looked like she was on the verge of hyperventilating. I wanted to comfort her, but I knew touching her right now would not be a good idea. Behind her, Gibson was watching us with wide, scared eyes. Goddammit, I was hurting two of the people I cared about most. I wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go.
