Zee fought the overwhelming urge to vomit.
Baz pointed at her. “I dare you to take another step closer.”
Her chin trembled as she came to a stop, confusion in the way she released a surprised breath. “I came to pay my respects. He was my boyfriend. I loved him.”
Baz scoffed. “He’s dead because of you. You were the one who dragged him back into that mess when he tried to get clean.”
“No.”
Ash and Lyrik took to either of his sides, making a wall, like it was their last chance to protect Mark from her. Like maybe they wished they had taken that stance all along.
“Go. None of us ever want to see you again. You come around? Promise you, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
Bitterness and anger pushed through Zee’s being. He hated. He fucking hated.
He strode up the stone steps to the building that had intimidated him when he’d first walked through its doors when he was sixteen years old. The culmination of his every goal.
Now his heavy footsteps echoed through the vacant halls. He knocked at the Dean’s door and opened it when he heard a gruff, “Come in.”
Zee had little left to give.
But this. This he could offer.
Zee cast his dreams at the feet of the Dean and left them there.
For his brother.
For his honor.
For his legacy.
The next day, Zee rang the doorbell to the Sunder house in the Hills. Two months before, the guys had purchased it. They’d crawled their way out of dives and into theaters and stadiums. This place had become like a testimony.
Not to the wealth and the number of dollars in their bank accounts. But as a declaration of their success. The fact they’d made it even after all the bullshit they’d been through. The adversity and affliction. The tragedy and addiction.
Now it stood like a sinister reminder that Mark had not.
You did this.
You did this.
You did this.
Emotion raced Zee’s throat, this tingly, burning feeling he beat down into the blackened pit of his soul. He shifted his feet, anxious, waiting, a heavy backpack on his shoulder.
Inside the bag were his only remaining belongings.
The tour had been sidelined. The guys came back for the funeral and to figure out what direction they were gonna go.
Lost.
One side of the ornate doors swung open. Baz stood in the middle of it. Stricken by grief.
“Zee,” he murmured in surprise.
“I’m in.”
The doorbell rang incessantly. Over and over. Devastation slowed his feet, his mind foggy from wasting the day away skating the fringes of sleep in his bed.
He’d have to get it together soon. For the guys. He had to take care of them. Protect this band. Make sure they made it.
Mark had told him the band staying together was the absolute most important thing to him.
Zee made a silent promise he would never let his brother’s dream go.
He snagged a shirt from the floor and threw it over his head. He jogged downstairs and into the stilled vacancy of the mansion in the Hills that had become his home.
“Coming,” he yelled, hustling when the bell rang two times in a row.
He jerked open the door and then stumbled back. The anger that struck him was the most intense kind.
Brutal and violent and savage.
But hate always was.
Violent.
Veronica stood in the doorway, wearing frayed, ripped jeans and a super tight red tee.
“What the fuck are you doing here? You were told when you showed up at the funeral if we ever saw your face again, you would regret it. Did you think it was a joke?”
Nervously, she shifted on her feet, peering over his shoulder into the rambling foyer of the house. “The rest of the guys are gone?”
He pressed his hand to the wall, leaning toward her face and spitting the words. “I take it by the fact you’re actually standing there, you already know the answer to that.”
On a hard swallow, she nodded. “Yeah. I heard they were gone.”
She reached out and touched his shoulder. “I need to talk to you.”
Zee snagged her by the wrist and jerked her away. “Don’t fucking touch me. You did this. You did this. He’s gone because of you.”
She blinked at him. “I wasn’t alone in this.”
Hatred burned, and Zee stepped back, trying to catch his breath, to keep himself from coming unglued. “You came to me…took advantage of the moment. Of the fact Julie left me. You lied to me.”
“I was lonely,” she shot back on a wounded cry.
“You were lonely? That’s your fucking excuse?”
She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, her shoulders heaving. “Please…I need to talk to you.”
The anger he felt butted against the guilt. The fact that ultimately he’d been responsible.
He widened the door. “Five minutes then you’re gone. Things aren’t gonna be pretty if the guys catch wind of you coming around here.”
Dropping her head, she angled past him, heels clicking on the marble floors as she stepped inside. She stopped just at the end of the foyer, her arms crossed over her chest as she looked out over the expansive living area and to the wall of windows that overlooked the glittering pool and the city sprawled out below.
Seeing her there made Zee’s skin crawl. She shouldn’t be. It was a disrespect to Mark.
“What do you want, Veronica? Tell me and then get the hell out.”
She looked to her feet, before she shifted enough to peer back at him. “I need money.”
Rage boiled through his blood, and it took everything he had to remain rooted. To keep from rushing her and tossing her out. “You need money?” It dropped like an accusation and disbelief.
She hugged her arms tighter. “I…just three hundred dollars and I’ll go. You won’t ever have to see me again.”
A sinking awareness washed over him, and his mouth went dry as he forced out the words. “For what?”
More tears streaked free. “I’m pregnant.”
Panic and grief came so close to dropping him to his knees. It was the hate and fear that kept him standing. “What are you saying?”
Her voice turned frantic. “I’m saying I’m pregnant and my boyfriend is dead and I can’t do this. That’s what I’m saying.”
Terror bottled in his throat, the words barely a breath. “It’s Mark’s?”
The nod of her head was spastic. “Please, you don’t know what it’s like having to stand here and ask you for help. I know you hate me…but please…I just need you to help me out this once.”
“No.” It flew from his mouth. A desperate demand. “I won’t let you take my brother’s kid from me, too.”
Disbelief twisted through her features. “You think this is about you?”
“I think this is about my brother. About the fact that baby is the last thing we have of him.”
Her head shook. “I don’t…I don’t want to do this alone. I can’t, Zee. I’m not equipped.”
He rushed forward and gripped her by the forearms. “I’ll do…anything. Tell me what you need. Just…let me take care of you.”
“I don’t want to be a single mom.”
“You don’t have to be.”