“Because I couldn’t cope with being around you, all right? I didn’t want to leave. I . . . Fuck, Connor. I was giving up the band. I was giving up my best friend. I was giving up someone I’d fallen pretty fucking hard for.” Jude forced back the lump rising in his throat. “You’d better believe it wasn’t an easy decision, and it hurt. It’s hurt ever since.”

  “Obviously not enough to keep your dick out of A.J., but then . . .” He laughed bitterly. “We all know what happens when your dick is in control.”

  Jude flinched. “That isn’t what happened back then, and you know it.”

  “Isn’t it?” Connor folded his arms. “Then what did happen?”

  “What happened was . . .” Jude hesitated. Then he dropped his gaze. “What happened was I fucked up, all right? I was pissed off, and instead of coming to you and talking about it like I should have, I—”

  “You fucked a bartender. In the same bed where you’d been fucking me.”

  “Yeah. That.” He pushed his shoulders back and met Connor’s eyes. “It was a mistake. I knew what I was doing, and I did it anyway, and I’ve hated myself for it ever since.” He released a breath. “I’m sorry. Okay? I know it doesn’t change a damn thing, and I could say it a million times and it wouldn’t change a thing, but there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that I haven’t regretted cheating on you or leaving the band right when we all needed each other.”

  Connor tensed. Then he exhaled sharply. “Fuck it. I’m going to get some—”

  “You don’t need some air this time,” Jude snapped. “And if you do, I’m coming with you, because I could use a goddamned smoke. But wherever you go, we’re going together, because we’re fucking settling this. Now.”

  “Whatever, man.” Connor turned to go. “I’m done.”

  “Would you quit walking away every time something—”

  “Oh, fuck you.” Connor spun around and got in Jude’s face, stabbing a finger at his chest and almost hitting him. “Fuck you, Jude. I might walk away and cool down, but at least I come the fuck back. You walk away and disappear, and leave people behind who you claim to care about, and people who you’ve even managed to convince you love, and you never come back until someone fucking begs you to.” He stabbed his finger again, and this time thumped the middle of Jude’s chest. “You want to tell someone not to walk away? Start with yourself, asshole.”

  Jude was ready to throw Wyatt in Connor’s face again, but held back. He wanted to settle this, not throw gas on the inferno.

  And Wyatt would be gas on the inferno, wouldn’t he? Just like Jude’s presence was salt in the open wound.

  Jesus. No wonder Connor was so pissed about him being involved with A.J. The wound Jude had left was apparently still fresh, and Wyatt hadn’t left all that long ago, so that was likely a raw nerve too. And now Jude was sleeping with another band member right under his nose. Practically in his face. God, as good as Connor was at hiding things, he must’ve been a wreck right now. Just having Jude back in the band must’ve been painful as hell, and to add this . . .

  Jude swallowed. “Look, whatever happened with Wyatt, it obviously still hurts.”

  Connor winced, turning away and tightening his arms across his chest.

  Speaking as gently as he could, Jude said, “But there had to be a reason you two hooked up even though you knew what could happen. The road’s lonely. We all have to lean on each other. And . . . things happen. They happened between us, they happened between you and Wyatt, and—”

  “And they happened between you and A.J.,” Connor growled.

  “Yeah. They did. And—”

  “Don’t you dare compare those to each other. They’re not the same at all.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Wyatt was the one who helped me pick up the pieces after the love of my life—” His teeth snapped together.

  Jude’s heart skipped. “Connor . . .”

  Connor rubbed an unsteady hand over his face. “You weren’t there. He was.”

  “I also wasn’t the love of your life.”

  Connor dropped his hand, and when he met Jude’s gaze, his wasn’t just full of hurt, it was full of tears. He started to speak, but then cursed and swiped at his eyes.

  “Look at us,” Jude whispered. “Look at where we were before we split up. Don’t you think we both deserve better than that?”

  Connor leaned against the wall, and when he wiped his eyes this time, it didn’t do any good.

  With his heart in his throat, Jude stepped closer. He expected Connor to recoil, but he didn’t, so Jude wrapped his arms around him.

  And Connor broke down.

  Jude struggled to hold on to Connor as well as keep his own composure together. They’d known each other since they were kids, and he’d never seen Connor cry. Not when his first girlfriend dumped him their freshman year, not when he ran with Mrs. Newman’s scissors and gave himself that scar—he was always stoic to the point of callous.

  But not tonight.

  Eyes closed, Jude stroked Connor’s hair. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

  “I loved you, Jude,” Connor whispered. “More than anything.”

  Jude choked back his own tears. “I loved you too.” He held Connor tighter. “I did something stupid out of anger, and there hasn’t been a day that I haven’t wished I could undo all of that shit.”

  “But why?” Connor drew back and looked up at him, eyes red and wet. “I know we were in a bad spot, but . . .”

  Jude shook his head. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing ever since. We weren’t going to make it, but it shouldn’t have ended like that.”

  Connor flinched. “We could have . . .”

  “No. If we’d been more mature, we could’ve put it to bed and stayed friends, but we wouldn’t have pulled off more than that.”

  Connor sniffed sharply and wiped his eyes again. The tension was returning to his posture, but he didn’t speak.

  “Let me throw you a hypothetical,” Jude said. “What if I hadn’t cheated on you? And I hadn’t left the band when I did? Where do you think we’d be now?”

  Connor’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, do you think we ever would have gotten our shit together?”

  Connor quirked his lips, and his eyes lost focus for a moment. Then he shrugged. “I don’t know what could’ve happened. Just that one day you were there, and I thought we could fix things, and then you were gone.”

  “Think about it.” Jude sighed. “Look at us, Connor. The only difference between what we’re doing right now and what we did back then is that we’re not going to have makeup sex afterward.”

  Connor dropped his gaze.

  “It’s true. You know—”

  “So, what if it is?” Connor waved his hand. “Since we were doomed to fail, that justifies what—”

  “No, I’m not justifying anything. I’m just saying that maybe we need to let it go and put it behind us. It’s over. It’s done. And . . .” Jude paused. “And to be honest, I miss my friend.”

  Connor blinked.

  Jude took a breath. “Every time we’re in the same room, we dig this thing a little deeper, but . . . what if we stopped? What happened, happened. But what if we just accepted that our relationship was never going to work, and tried to pick up the pieces we have left?”

  Connor’s expression softened slightly. “I don’t think we even have those pieces left.”

  “I think we do. It’ll never be what it was before, but we were friends for a lot longer than we dated. And yeah, we had a good thing for a while, but there’s no going back. You weren’t happy. I wasn’t happy. The band was miserable.” Jude swallowed. “And if I could go back and change it, I would.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.” Connor sighed and slowly lifted his gaze. “Because if all of that hadn’t happened, you never would’ve met A.J.”

  Jude couldn’t find a single trace of anger in Connor’s tone. Just the unmistakable timbre of bone-deep resignation.

  “I get it.” Connor slumped against the wall and rubbed his temples. “The thing is, I lost you. I lost Wyatt. The band has almost fallen apart, and we’ve somehow kept it together, but it’s . . .” He released a long breath and lifted his gaze. “This is all I’ve got, man. The band. This is it.”

  “You think I don’t know that? I just spent a year and a half figuring out exactly what happens when something like this goes away. I get it. And I don’t want to go through it again. I also don’t want to put you through it again. Any of it.”

  “So we’re just supposed to forget everything?”

  “Not forget it. Maybe, I don’t know, try to start over. To tell you the truth, I regretted losing you as a friend a lot more than losing you as a boyfriend.”

  Connor winced. “Jude, I loved you.”

  “I know. And I loved you too.” Jude swallowed. “I don’t . . . I don’t think that’s something that’ll ever change.”

  Connor met his eyes.

  Jude took his hand. “I can apologize a million different ways, but it’s never going to change what I did. And what I did is never going to change the fact that I loved you then and I love you now. Maybe if I’d been more mature when we dated, I’d have found a different way to let you know I was unhappy. We could have put things down gently instead of crashing and burning. But we can’t go back in time. And we can’t just let this thing keep eating us both alive.” He squeezed Connor’s hand. “I’m not asking you to pretend I didn’t do what I did. I’m just asking you to believe that the person I am now is not one who’s going to hurt you again.”

  Connor didn’t speak. Jude wasn’t sure what else to add, so he let the silence linger, waiting for Connor to say something. Anything.

  Finally, Connor whispered, “How long would you guys have gone before you told us?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think we’d gotten that far yet.”

  Connor laughed, quietly, but genuinely. “I’m kind of amazed you managed to keep it on the down-low for as long as you did.”

  Jude cocked his head. “How long do you think we were keeping it quiet?”

  “I knew something was going on before I saw you together. I’ve . . . known for a while.”

  Jude blinked. “But, I mean, when you caught us, you—”

  “I know.” Connor ran a hand through his hair, slowly, as if the gesture required energy he didn’t have. “I think seeing you together just pissed me off because it confirmed what I already knew.”

  “But . . . how?”

  Connor sighed heavily. “Jude, I know you. I know when you’re hiding something. And I know—” He hesitated. “I know what it means when you look at someone the way I kept seeing you look at A.J.”

  Jude’s throat tightened. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I . . . We should’ve told you.”

  “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t give you much choice there.” He wiped his eyes again with the back of his hand and stood a little straighter. “I guess it was bound to blow up either way.”

  “Yeah. And for what it’s worth, we didn’t just jump into this thing. We both tried not to, actually. But . . .”

  “I guess I can understand that. A.J.’s hot, and you’re . . .” He met Jude’s gaze and managed a slight smile. “He’s got good taste in men.”

  Jude laughed, heat rushing into his cheeks.

  Connor rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. And maybe you’re right. That we’re better off being friends and bandmates.”

  “I think that would beat the hell out of what we’ve been since I came back.”

  “Yeah. Me too. It’d be a lot better.”

  Their eyes met, and they both smiled. Then, for the second time that night, Jude hugged Connor, and for the longest time neither let go.

  “I know I’m not an easy person to work with or live with,” Connor whispered. “But God, I missed you.”

  “I missed you too. And I can’t say enough that I am so sorry. I fucked things up with you and the band, and I’m—”

  “I know.” Connor hugged him tighter. “Just don’t leave this time.”

  “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away from this band.” Jude released him and met his gaze. “If you and the band want me to stay, I’ll—”

  “We’d be stupid to let you go again.”

  They exchanged one last glance and slight smiles, and then started back toward the bus. There was no telling how things would go now, but if nothing else, the two of them had finally buried the hatchet. This was how it should’ve ended back then. If they’d both been a little more mature, if Jude had been a hell of a lot less impulsive, maybe they could’ve put their relationship to rest peacefully like this.

  However the rest of this evening went, he was thankful for a second chance with his best friend, and for a second chance to let go of his first love.

  Chapter 30

  Jude and Connor had been gone for ages, and no one had said a word. The band sat in silence, exchanging uncomfortable looks and fidgeting.

  A.J. kept tapping his foot and drumming his fingers. Richie alternated between squirming in a chair and wandering to the kitchenette as if something appetizing might have materialized since the previous seven or eight trips. Shiloh played on her phone, but nothing seemed to hold her interest for very long, and each time she put it aside, she tossed it onto the table harder than the time before. As twitchy as Vanessa was, A.J. wouldn’t have been surprised if she was seriously considering hunting down a pot dealer in town. At this rate, he was ready to ask her to pick something up for him.

  Not that he expected any requests to be met with responses besides Go fuck yourself.

  His face burned. His insides threatened to fold in on themselves. He tried not to tap or drum or fucking breathe, because he didn’t want to attract any attention to himself. If he could’ve vanished into the woodwork, he would have. Whatever was happening between Connor and Jude right then might be worse than this, but probably not by much.

  Shiloh cleared her throat, the subtle sound making everyone on the bus jump. When A.J. turned to her, his chest tightened—she was looking right back at him.

  After a few long, uncomfortable seconds, she said, “While we’re digging things up, I’m curious about what you said that night we all found out about you and Jude. That you didn’t like being treated like a stand-in.” She lifted her eyebrows. “Is that really how you’ve felt?”

  A.J. dropped his gaze. “I . . . Yeah. It is.”

  “But . . .” She shook her head. “Why?”

  He exhaled. “I guess I’ve just always felt like an outsider. Kind of . . . like all it would take was one fuckup, and I’d be gone.”

  “What? No!” She pursed her lips. “I mean, you auditioned against shitloads of drummers. We didn’t pick you because you were ‘okay’ until something else came along.”

  “She’s right,” Richie said quietly. “We didn’t hire you on because you were a placeholder until we found someone more permanent. I don’t think any of us thought you were temporary.”

  A.J. leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Except you guys have been together since you were in school. I’m the new kid. I’ll—”

  “You were the new kid two albums ago, hon.” Shiloh got up and moved to the chair closest to A.J.’s. She took a seat and reached for his arm. “You’ve really felt that way this whole time?”

  He hesitated, suddenly feeling less like the new kid and more like a colossal idiot. Then he sighed and nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I guess sometimes I think I’m along for the ride, but don’t have much of a voice.”

  She cocked her head. “You don’t think you can speak up?”

  “I’ve tried.” He swallowed, then sighed, shaking his head. “It’s stupid. But I guess it’s kind of like being the new kid in school, you know? Trying to be part of the group and all.” He paused. “I mean, I know I’m a damn good drummer. But . . .”

  “I get it,” Shiloh said. “I’m just sorry we didn’t catch on sooner that you felt like that. Or that you thought we didn’t want your input on things. I had no idea.”

  “Same here,” Vanessa said.

  Richie nodded. “Yeah. I thought we were cool, man.”

  “We are. We . . .” A.J. took a breath. “You guys have been great. Honestly. But you’re a tight group.”

  “Yeah, we are.” Shiloh glanced at the others, and faced him. “But we want you to be part of it. Not just onstage.”

  He swallowed against the ache in his throat. Hearing them say it was a relief, but it didn’t do much for his conscience. He and Jude had jeopardized everything this group had worked for, so he couldn’t help feeling like he didn’t deserve the place they’d given him. “I’m sorry, guys. For all this with Jude. It—”

  “We’ll deal with that.” Shiloh’s tone was terse, but gentle at the same time. “We’ve bounced back from worse. As long as he and Connor don’t kill each other.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “But we’re not throwing you out. Okay?”

  He nodded. “What about Jude?”

  She and Vanessa exchanged glances. “I don’t know. A lot of that depends on what happens out there.” She gestured at the door.

  “It also depends on if Kristy doesn’t kill him.” Richie held up the phone he’d been playing on. “She’s on her way, and she’s pissed.”

  “As well she should be.” Vanessa looked at A.J. “Sorry, man.”

  “It’s okay. I get why she’s pissed. And I mean it—I’m really sorry for what happened. And we tried to keep it quiet because we didn’t want to rock the boat or fuck up the band.” He paused, and more to himself, added, “I just couldn’t help feeling this way about him.”

  Shiloh peered at him. “You guys aren’t just screwing around, are you?”

  “No.” A.J. held her gaze, though it was a challenge. “Maybe in the beginning, but now—”

  The door opened, and they all froze.

  Connor came in first. Then Jude.

  Everyone tensed. Both guys were quiet, expressions betraying nothing.

  Then they glanced at each other, and Connor took a deep breath. Facing the band, he said, “So, Jude and I . . . It’s settled.”