"Riley, seriously, listen to me," he said, "I’m trying to tell you I’m sorry. I lied to you. I cheated. I did terrible things in pursuit of my addiction, and I regret every moment of pain my affliction caused you."

My nose wrinkled in disgust. Even his apology was evasive, trying desperately to avoid responsibility. I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his affliction that had caused me pain—it was his actions. But more than that, I just wanted him to go away.

"Apology accepted," I said flatly. "Don’t you have work to do?"

"Hear me out," he said, reaching out to my shoulder. "Just last week, I was thinking about you, wishing I had your number so I could atone. And just like that, here you are. It’s like fate or something."

The director’s loud Boston accent ripped through our conversation. "Hey, Jax, get your head in the damn game," he said. "The redhead will be there when you get done."

I felt suddenly embarrassed. Jax seemed to be looking at the stage, now, but had he been watching me? What did he think—and did he see Connor trying to touch my shoulder and get close?

I brushed his hand away, bristling. "It’s not fate, Connor. It’s bad luck. And you’re too late anyway—I’ve moved on."

His nose wrinkled, and he lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Who is he?"

Shit. I’d said too much, and I didn’t really want to blab to Connor that I was sleeping with America’s next top rock god. I pressed my lips together. "That’s none of your business."

"I bet he can’t give you what I can. Remember how you always wanted to go to Ibiza?"

Don’t, Connor. Just don’t. "Yeah," I said, my eyes starting to well up with tears. "I was all ready to go that Christmas when you broke up with me. Thanks for the memory."

"Well, don’t get so sad, because we can still go," he said, his chest puffing out with ego. "My work is sending me out there to hammer out a contract with an A-list director—but I can’t tell you who. Never know who might be listening."

I gave him my best I-don’t-give-a-fuck smile. "I don’t care. Those dreams are done, Connor." Turning my heel, I started walking toward the soundstage exit.

"Riley, don’t walk away from me," he pleaded. "I still have it. Remember the day you gave this to me?"

He held up a silver keychain with the Eiffel Tower on it—total tourist kitsch, but I’d bought it for him, right before everything fell apart. I stopped in my tracks and looked down, overcome by the memories.

"Remember what I gave you?" He moved closer to me, bringing his face close to mine. "We could still make it work."

I felt a wave of panic and reached into my pocket for my lifesavers, only to realize they were still on the bus. Just my luck—especially when Connor’s the reason I have them in the first place.

I whirled back toward him, enraged. "Let me make this clear to you," I said, feeling my hands start to shake. "Get out of my life, Connor. I don’t care where you go, I don’t care what you do. Just stay the hell away from me."

His mouth twisted into a crooked, angry smile. "God, you’ve changed a lot, but you’re just as crazy as I remember."

I pushed back a wave of nausea. "And you’re just as big a narcissist."

"Nice. Real nice, Riley," he said, his voice rising with resentment and rage. "I apologize and you start your paranoid psychobabble. You always were a grade-A cun—"

BAM!! A punch landed on the side of Connor’s skull, sending him reeling to the floor. "What the f**k?" he screamed, holding his head in his hands.

The tattooed, sun-kissed arm that took him out could only belong to one man. "Jax!" I said, startled. He’d approached before I’d even noticed—which meant, I realized with embarrassment, that Connor and I had been making a bigger scene than I’d realized.

Jax’s dark eyes searched me. "Are you okay?"

I was shaking and on the verge of a panic attack, but I didn’t want Jax to know that someone like Connor could affect me that way. "I’m—I’m fine."

"Good," he said, then turned and called to the security guards on the fringes of the lot. "Get this joker off my set. He’s trespassing and he’s harassing our tour accountant."

On the floor, Connor moaned in pain as security rushed in and lifted him by the arms, starting to drag him out. He shook his head as if clearing his vision and yelled at Jax, "What the f**k was that about? I was just having a friendly conversation with an old friend. Do you know who I am?"

Jax held up his hand, and the security guards stopped dragging Connor away for a moment. Jax glared at Connor with a dangerous glint in his eyes that I’d never seen before. "I don’t give a shit who you are and I don’t give a f**k what you thought you were doing. You made Riley upset. That’s all I need to know." He waved the guards away, "Get this ass**le out of here for his own sake."

Connor continued to rant, "Well, I see she’s got her claws into you too. Man to man, don’t say I didn’t warn you. She’s f**king crazy!"

Even after all these years, his words could still hurt me.

Jax tensed but I put my hand on his arm, my eyes starting to sting. "No, Jax. Please. Just make him leave. I’m—I’m really sorry I ruined your shoot."

Even though Jax was still tense, he didn’t make another step towards Connor. He watched until security dragged Connor out of sight and then turned back at me.

"Don’t worry about it," he said, his eyes kind and gentle, but filled with concern. "We’ll talk later."

As he walked back to the stage, where the rest of the band was waiting, I found a seat and collapsed into it. Jax said not to worry, but that was impossible—after what had happened today, he’d want to know about my history with Connor. But if he found out the truth, what would he think of me? Jax didn’t need more drama in his life. Besides, what would the rest of the band think of this? When Jax convinced me to sleep in his bed, he told me the band would be cool with it, but that was before what happened in Vegas and before their music video shoot had to be interrupted because of me.

I’d gone from looking forward to the evening to dreading it—and all because of Connor.

I took a deep breath, then another, but it didn’t help. Fighting back my tears, I curled up into my chair and waited for the shoot to end. No matter what tonight brought, I knew one thing:

I needed my lifesavers.

Chapter Twenty

SEEING THINGS

That evening, I walked up the stairs to Jax’s room, while the band milled around chatting after they had wrapped up their shoot. I’d been thinking of the Fortress of Solitude all afternoon and evening, telling myself that I’d feel better as soon as I got a chance to lay down and collect my thoughts.

I pulled back the covers and huddled in against a pillow, and almost immediately collapsed, crying. I couldn’t shake the memory of Connor. Not just how he’d treated me, but how he’d made me treat myself. I’d spent so long trying to forget him, to make myself someone better than the person I used to be.

A soft knock rapped against the door.