by Devney Perry
“We’re not canceling,” I reiterated. “I did a six-week program instead of the full twelve because I wanted to make sure that I could handle myself in the real world before the fall dates. Did you honestly think I would dump myself into rehab and not think about what we had coming up?” I was a selfish prick, but I wasn’t that selfish.
“We weren’t sure exactly what went through your head.” Quinn leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her knees. “You didn’t fill us in. And no, don’t look at me like that—we’re thrilled you went. We’re just trying to figure out how to best support you.”
My jaw locked. My reasons for going to rehab were mine and mine alone, just like the reasons I drank. “I should have told you, but I’d already walked out of rehab the week before, and I didn’t want to disappoint you if I did it again.”
They all sagged, like I’d just deflated their balloons—like I’d already failed.
“Look,” I said softly. “This sucks. I’m not going to lie. I haven’t been six weeks sober since I was eighteen. But next week, I’ll be at seven weeks, and the week after that, I’ll be at eight. I chose to go. No one forced me. I didn’t need an intervention, I made the decision myself. That should tell you how serious I am, and quite frankly, you’re all starting to really piss me off by assuming you know what’s best for me. If you want to parent someone, then go home to your kids.”
They stared at me with open mouths.
“So, that means you don’t want to cancel the shows?” Ben asked, still holding his phone.
“No. I don’t. It’s bad for business and would lead to a massive PR issue. I’m assuming you kept the rehab quiet?” If he hadn’t, I was going to fire his ass, right here and now.
“Of course. Publicity stepped in and posted from quite a few beaches around the world on your social media, with bullshit captions like ‘living my best life,’ and ‘water soothes the soul.’”
I would never say cheesy shit like that, but I let it slide.
“Right. Then I’m not going to cancel dates. End of story.” I shoved my hands in the front pockets of my jeans.
Ben studied me for a few moments, then turned to Shannon. “You have everything you need?”
“Yep. My stuff’s in the guest room, and the doorman knows not to let anyone up without an escort.” She glanced my way, then quickly found some lint on her sweater to brush away.
“I’m sorry, what?” My eyes narrowed. Why the hell would she have her stuff in my guest room? Stuck here.
“Shannon will be with you for the remainder of the fall dates,” Ben stated. “I have too much going on to handle you personally, and well, she’s the only one on my team who can handle your bullshit without wanting to sleep with you.”
“Absolutely not.” My eyebrows hit the roof. What was more insulting? That she wasn’t attracted to me? Or that she thought she was actually capable of handling me?
“This isn’t up for debate, Nixon.” Ben turned to face me directly. “If you want to cancel the dates now, I’ll support that decision. We’re here to make sure you stay clean. But if you want me to keep those dates on the books, then Shannon is staying by your side to make sure you don’t go off the rails. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.” The asshole wasn’t kidding.
I turned a glare on Quinn and Jonas. “Oh, I get it now. You two don’t have to babysit me because you’re having her do it.” I pointed at Shannon, or whatever her name was.
“She is a lawyer, not a babysitter,” Shannon snapped.
“Even better.”
“Nix.” Jonas stood. “I’m in Boston and Quinn’s in Montana. It’s killing us that we’re not here for you, and if you want us to, we’ll stay.”
Quinn stood and slid her sticks into her back pocket. “We’ll stay as long as you need us,” she promised. “But please don’t ask us to abandon you, because we won’t.”
I ripped my hands over my hair and fought the urge to break something. There was no way I was pulling Jonas and Quinn away from their families, and if I threw Shannon—whatever her name was—out, those two would stay.
I glanced at Shannon.
Four years and I really didn’t know her first name?
“Fine,” I barked and strode to the Jeff Frost photo hanging on the wall. The hinges were soundless as I swung it open like a door, revealing the small safe behind it. I punched in the code, opened the door, and took out the small bottle of pills I’d stashed there three months ago. The bottle felt heavy in my hand, even though I knew it weighed next to nothing.
Everyone watched as I took it to Shannon and pressed it into her hand. “There you go. That’s the last contraband in the house, and I just freely gave it to you. Now what is your damned name?” My tone quieted as I struggled to keep a cap on my anger.
Her eyes flared, and my stomach pitched as we locked gazes. Those eyes weren’t just green, they were emerald green and brighter than any jewel I’d ever seen. I blinked and stepped back as her fingers closed around the bottle.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “Zoe. My name is Zoe Shannon.”
Zoe.
“Well, Zoe, I’m assuming you know where the spare towels are, seeing as you’ve searched my entire apartment.” I turned to my friends. “Now, the rest of you can get the fuck out. I love you, but I don’t really like you at the moment.” I grabbed a box of whatever takeout was on the coffee table and left them all sitting in my living room as I climbed the stairs.
Ironic. They were all so concerned for my sobriety yet they’d just saddled me with the one woman who could drive me to drink.
My lips lifted slightly. At least they’d given me something to do between shows. It was going to be a shit ton of fun to see just what it would take to get under her skin.
Acknowledgments
Thank you for reading Rifts and Refrains! I loved writing this Hush Note story. If you haven’t read Jonas and Kira’s book, don’t miss Lies and Lullabies by Sarina Bowen. And follow Nixon to Muses and Melodies by Rebecca Yarros.
* * *
Thanks to my incredible editing and proofreading team: Karen Grove, Julie Deaton, Karen Lawson and Kaitlyn Moodie. Thank you to Sarah Hansen for this gorgeous cover.
* * *
To the bloggers who take the time to read and post about my books, thank you from the bottom of my heart. To Jennifer Santa Ana for being so wonderful. A huge shout-out to the members of Perry Street for all your love and support. And a special thank you to my wonderful family and friends for encouraging me through another project.
* * *
And lastly, to Sarina and Rebecca. Thank you for sharing Hush Note with me. You rock!
About the Author
Devney is a USA Today bestselling author who lives in Washington with her husband and two sons. Born and raised in Montana, she loves writing books set in her treasured home state. After working in the technology industry for nearly a decade, she abandoned conference calls and project schedules to enjoy a slower pace at home with her family. Writing one book, let alone many, was not something she ever expected to do. But now that she’s discovered her true passion for writing romance, she has no plans to ever stop.
* * *
Don’t miss out on Devney’s latest book news.
Subscribe to her newsletter!
www.devneyperry.com
* * *
Devney loves hearing from her readers.
Connect with her on social media!
Facebook
Instagram
Twitter
BookBub
e-share-buttons">share
