I deflate. “Wife,” I remind him. “You have a wife now. Stop hitting on my sister.”

  “Some bits are more sacred than vows, buddy.”

  I grit my teeth and he laughs.

  “I’ll catch you guys after the show,” he says, backing off. “Break a leg, little brother.”

  “And you at your game tomorrow,” Jonah says.

  Hayden pats Jonah’s arm before turning and heading into the back hallway to make his way back to his wife.

  Wait.

  Hayden’s wife.

  A woman he met… because she asked him to fake being her boyfriend for a weekend.

  If anyone knows how to make fake look real, it’d be him.

  “Hey, Hayden!” I rush to catch up with him, struggling to match his wide stride. “Hang on a sec.”

  Hayden pauses outside the closed door and raises his hands. “I apologize for the little sister joke, Knox,” he says. “Say the word and I’ll stop.”

  “No, this isn’t… I mean, yeah, stop doing that. But I actually wanted to ask you about something real quick.”

  He lowers his hands and sticks them in his pockets. “All right.”

  I take a breath, stalling as I search for the right words. “You and Penelope.”

  He nods. “Me and my wife.”

  “You two just pretended to be together, right? At first?”

  “Well, that’s not exactly something in our lore we advertise, but yeah,” he says. “Pen needed a buffer between her and her family, and I was happy to oblige.”

  “How did you make that work?” I ask. “I mean, how did you make people believe it was real?”

  Hayden pauses, arching his brow. “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, I’m just… curious.”

  “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a pretty little pop princess hanging around the band again all of a sudden, would it?”

  “No. I was just thinking about it and I wondered, you know — hypothetically — how all of that played out.”

  “You were thinking about me and my wife?”

  “… Yes.”

  Hayden nods, but he plays along. “Well, it was easy.”

  “How so?”

  “In my case, it looked real because I really wanted to sleep with her.”

  “Oh. But what if you didn’t? What if you swore against giving into those feelings again?” I ask. “Hypothetically.”

  “In that case, I wouldn’t have slept with her,” he answers. “I would have kept it professional while projecting otherwise to others.”

  “How would you do that?”

  “It’s all about public displays of attention.”

  “You mean affection?”

  “No, attention.” Hayden crosses his arms. “Penelope approached me to be her fake boyfriend because her parents kept trying to set her up with some jerk she hated. So, I showered her with attention. Not affection. Anyone can bullshit holding a hand or a kiss on the cheek. Faking a relationship isn’t about making her believe she’s the only person in the room, it’s about making everyone else in the room believe unquestionably that she is.”

  “So… how do I do that?”

  “Well, hypothetically…”

  “Right.”

  “I’d come up with the one thing that would do that and I’d do it.”

  It doesn’t exactly answer my question. But, then again, it doesn’t not answer it, either.

  What’s the one thing that would make twenty-thousand people believe that the only person in the room to me was Harmony Max?

  My gut clenches.

  I know what I have to do.

  And I really don’t like it.

  25

  HARMONY

  ACriminal Records show is no less exhilarating from backstage.

  I watch the show from the wings with Jordan and Chrissy, staying out of the way of the dozen techs making it all happen.

  And what a show it is.

  Even if you’re not a fan of their sound, it’s impossible to claim that Criminal Records doesn’t put on a good show. Pyrotechnics and flashing lights; things a simple bar like the Sin and Sand just can’t pull off. Add in the playful banter. The dueling piano battles between Knox and Katrina. It’s a night at the rock show no one will ever forget.

  Nearly an hour into their set, the band leaves the stage. It’s not that unusual, though. Ever since Jonah met Marla, it became common for him to take the stage alone with his acoustic to play one of the new songs they wrote together. There were rumors a few years back Jonah was thinking of going solo, but it was never true. Sometimes he just wrote a piece with his muse that was just for them, and the rest of the band supported that.

  Or so I read. I wasn’t there.

  But tonight, it’s Knox who takes the stage alone. He carries his acoustic guitar in one hand and a simple folding chair in the other, not even glancing up as he passes us by.

  The crowd showers him with applause while whispers carry throughout. Even Jordan’s head tilts with curiosity before she rushes over to Jonah with questions.

  “What’s going on?” Chrissy asks me.

  I shrug. “I don’t know.”

  Knox takes a seat. He balances the guitar on his thigh and takes his time adjusting the microphone stand to exactly the right angle, clearly milking the rise in tension while we wait.

  “How’s the show so far, Los Angeles?” he finally asks, his voice carrying throughout the concert hall.

  Cheers and applause. I watch silently as Jordan rejoins us, her body language tight with nerves.

  “I know this ain’t my usual interlude,” he says, giving his guitar one last adjustment before strumming the strings softly. “It’s usually Jonah’s thing, but he had to go call his fiancée. You guys understand.”

  The crowd erupts once again.

  “Jonah’s getting married, guys.”

  The wave of applause grows louder.

  “Oh, so you heard,” he jokes. They laugh. “Up on all the latest gossip.” He strums again. “Then, I guess… you guys saw a certain video I posted this morning, huh?”

  The hall becomes… noticeably quieter. Despite being in a dark, shadowed corner, I feel the heavy stare of thousands of prying eyes on my skin.

  I hold my breath.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” Knox drags his pick through his strings, then slaps them to mute as he eyes his crowd. “Well, let me confirm the rumors now: Harmony and I are back together again.”

  I keep holding it as a thunderous whisper trembles the stage beneath my feet.

  “Why?” someone shouts from the front row, prompting a few giggles around them.

  “Why?” Knox repeats for the benefit of the nosebleeds. “Why, you ask. Well…” He waits a moment in the expectant silence. “Because I fucking want to, that’s why.”

  They cheer at that. Even I can’t help but smile. That’s Knox Benton for you. The Rebel of Rock.

  “And as much as some of you don’t want to hear...” He narrows his eyes, targeting a few frowny faces near the front, “I don’t give a flying fuck what you think.”

  Shouts of excitement roll through the audience. The air lightens. The tone shifts.

  And my lungs burn.

  “But if that’s not good enough,” Knox says, adjusting his posture. “Then maybe this will help.”

  He begins a song. Within the first few notes, a gasp rolls through the hall.

  My jaw drops. Chrissy’s, too. She covers her mouth with her hand while Jordan curses lightly under her breath.

  He’s playing Pure Blue.

  Criminal Records never play Pure Blue anymore.

  Not since…

  Me.

  Down Down Baby put them on everyone’s radar, but it was Pure Blue that launched them down the path of rock gods.

  Knox wrote it for me.

  Knox wrote it on me. Literally and figuratively. It was the first song he wrote after we met, after he started calling me his muse in the middle of the night.

  I giggle in the dark, feeling a strange sensation on my back. “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Don’t move,” Knox says, strangely focused.

  I stay still, barely balanced on quivering knees, deep pleasures just out of reach. “Don’t stop. Why did you stop?”

  “Shh,” he insists, the marker moving quickly across my spine.

  I chuckle. “That tickles!”

  “There.” He tosses the marker away and promptly grips my hips, pulling me closer while thrusting back in. “Just needed to write that down real quick.”

  I laugh, my grip tight on the shaking headboard.

  Knox’s voice echoes in my ears, gently lulling me out of a memory I have no business going back to, but I don’t exactly want to leave it, either. The feeling of it lingers on my skin as he sings the song to a dead quiet auditorium. Every eye and ear in the house locks on him. His voice. This song.

  “I wish — I could — keep you.”

  My song.

  And if he’s performing it live again, then the rumors must really be true.

  Knox and Harmony are back together.

  And there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it.

  26

  KNOX

  This is a mistake.

  I felt it the moment the first note came out of my fingers. Muscle memory kicked in and there was no stopping it until the end.

  Pure Blue.

  The song I wrote high on Harmony.

  The song I swore I’d never play again.

  It has too much baggage. Far too many memories. Just as much blood, sweat, and tears went into forgetting this song as went into creating it. But my heart still remembers every note, every line.

  It’s not a perfect performance, but the roughness makes it better. More real. More painful, too.

  Once it’s over, everything hurts. Everything hurts. My ears ring from the screams of the crowd. My fingers ache. My blood boils.

  And my heart…

  I can barely fucking feel it at all.

  I walk off the stage silently and make my way to the back. People say my name. Jordan, Jonah, Katrina. I ignore them as echoes of the past reverberate through my mind like a song forever stuck on repeat.

  Seeing Harmony.

  Meeting Harmony.

  Seducing Harmony.

  Fucking and fighting and fucking and fighting and falling deeper and deeper in love with her every single time until eventually…

  I splash water on my face in the dressing room, listening to the others behind me.

  Are you okay?

  “I’m fine,” I say.

  Why did you do that?

  “I had to.”

  Can you still go on?

  “Of course.” The show goes on. Always. “Just need a minute.”

  Jordan guides everyone back, telling them to change up the set list. Jonah, go do your set. Stall. Knox will be ready in a minute or two.

  Right?

  “Right.”

  The door closes, and I’m alone. I close my eyes and I’m even more isolated. Memories flash. Emotions spike. A voice echoes. My muse. My fucking muse.

  Mine.

  Mine.

  Mine.

  The door opens.

  “Knox?”

  The door closes.

  “Knox, are you okay?”

  I laugh. I’m not sure I mean to. It starts in the depths of my gut and slowly crawls upward. Raising my head, I stare at myself in the mirror. I stare at her over my shoulder, her face twisted with concern, and I laugh.

  “Don’t,” I say.

  “Don’t what?” Harmony asks.

  “Just fucking don’t.”

  “What? What the hell did I do?”

  I turn to face her, my skin burning with anger. “Do you have any idea what playing that song does to me?”

  She pauses. “I didn’t force you to play Pure Blue, Knox.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “Uh, no. I didn’t.”

  “Well, your daddy did, so I’m taking it out on you.”

  “Jesus, fine,” she says, stepping back to the door. “Sorry I even tried.”

  I scoff. “Typical.”

  She stops and rolls her eyes. “Oh, what now?”

  “It’s just so fucking typical that I’m the one going through it and you’re just along for the ride,” I say. “No fucks given, eh, Harm?”

  “Boo-fucking-hoo.”

  I bite down. “What?”

  “Boo-hoo,” she repeats. “All I hear about lately is how awful I was for you. How poor, defenseless Knox had his heart ripped out by some crazy groupie, but that’s not the whole story, is it?” She steps forward, her arms crossed. “Everything I did was because you made me.”

  “Bullshit!” I say. “I didn’t make you do anything.”

  “That’s not what I said, idiot.” Her sharp eyes narrow. “You made me,” she repeats. “Like Frankenstein’s monster, you molded me into exactly what you wanted me to be.”

  “That’s not⁠—”

  “Don’t. You can lie to everyone else, but don’t you dare lie to me.”

  I go quiet.

  “They don’t know about how you stalked me,” she says. “How you broke into my mother’s house and crawled into my bed in the middle of the night.”

  “It was just that one time!”

  “You told me you couldn’t live without me and you would literally die if I didn’t come back with you.” Her eyes shimmer. “You said that if I didn’t, then I’d be responsible for what you did to yourself. Do you remember that part, Knox? Because I sure as shit do.”

  Yes. I remember.

  Oh, I remember.

  I scoff weakly. “That was⁠—”

  “Different?” she says. “It always is. You’re always the victim. I’m always the villain. But that ends now.” She rolls her shoulders back. “No more. From now on, I’m going to⁠—”

  “What?” I ask with an exhausted laugh. “What are you gonna do, Harmony? Throw on another pink outfit? Do a little dance? Sing another shitty pop song written for fourth graders? Go ahead. Do something. Surprise me. I dare you.”

  Harmony goes quiet. She looks at the black floor, her lips pressed firmly together.

  A knock taps the door, then it opens without waiting for a response. “Knox?” Jordan sticks her head in. She spots Harmony and her eyes widen with questions, but she smothers them. “We need you on stage,” she says. “Thirty seconds.”

  I ignore her, the fortified, determined look on Harmony’s face sending shivers down my spine. “Harmony.”

  She doesn’t respond. She turns and leaves the room.

  “Harmony?” I ask, following her to the door. “What are you going to do?”

  She doesn’t answer.

  “Harmony?” I stop next to Jordan. “Babe?”

  Harmony glances back for less than a second before continuing toward the exit beyond the stage.

  “Harm, seriously, what are you going to do?”

  She’s gone.

  “Harmony!”

  “Knox,” Jordan says, forcing my attention back to the here and now.

  The show goes on.

  Always.

  I give her a nod as a dark sense of dread curls throughout my stomach.

  Well, I fucked up.

  27

  HARMONY

  I’m sick of living in the past.

  Or, rather, I’m sick of others insisting on living in my past.

  It would be so easy right now for me to re-live some pivotal moment in mine and Knox’s history. Our first real fight. The first time we had make-up sex. That night we ran away from everything and spent the night in some cabin in the Montana mountains... resulting in him nearly missing their show in Helena that weekend.

  But none of that mattered. We were in love.

  We were fate and destiny and all the other excuses Knox had to justify our behavior.

  And then, when the consequences inevitably came and people urged us to slow down, all we wanted to do was hit the gas and speed even faster toward ruin.

  But that didn’t matter. We were in love.

  And thus, the cycle continued.

  Eventually, our love wasn’t enough. It led to hate and resentment. We lashed out. We apologized. We’d become complacent. We’d do horrible things for attention. We’d fight and fuck. Then we’d do it all over again. What began as a harmless love affair became twisted and toxic and... oh, goddammit.

  I’m not living in the past anymore.

  That girl isn’t me. I’m not even sure I was ever her in the first place. I was just... wearing the mask Knox wanted me to wear. His devoted, loyal muse who’d do anything for him.

  Surprise me.

  I dare you.

  Okay, Knox. If you insist.

  I stare through Big Pink’s tinted windows, eying the Criminal Records bus across the parking lot. Another show down. Twenty more to go. All gassed up and ready to go up the coast to San Francisco.

  “Ah!” Chrissy says as she steps on board, her hands full of her overnight bag and a to-go tray of coffee. “There you are.”

  I nod. “Here I am.”

  “Uh-oh.” She chuckles lightly as she sets it all down and offers me a coffee. “Knox trouble already?”

  “Is it that obvious?” I answer as I bring the brew to my nose and inhale that perfect French vanilla scent. Just how I like it.

  Chrissy takes a seat across from me, wearing her sympathetic eyes. “You left so quickly after the show last night,” she says. “Figured it had something to do with Pure Blue.”

  “I would have left sooner, but I promised Jonah’s brother I’d meet his wife,” I say. “Didn’t want to disappoint a fan.”

  “Excellent call.”

  “Thanks.” I sigh. “And it wasn’t the song, specifically. Knox said some things after that rubbed me the wrong way, is all.”

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “Not really, no.” I roll my shoulders back. “This morning, I’m all about the forward momentum. I want to get out there even more as Harmony the pop princess and not... Heartbreak Harmony,” I say, sneering at the nickname.

  “That’s good! Where do we start?”