40. Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty

Anna

W hen the bodyguard startled us by showing up to escort us home and essentially ruined any chance Toby and I had to discuss our … situation , I did not expect a whirlwind of crap to be waiting for me when I arrived.

Crap that Leo apparently forgot to mention each time the two of us ended up on the phone while I was stowed away in the mountains.

Which was literally every day.

He's still getting the cold shoulder from me for it, which is why he's staring bullets at the side of my head while I ignore him.

Again.

Keys tap on my laptop, my fingers stuttering over the emails I've been forwarded from my oh-so-wonderful boss that include so many inquiries that the band's schedule is about to be booked for the next two months straight if I agree.

Which I don't.

They need a break. Time to be with their growing families. Deal with their affairs before embarking on yet another tour, even if this one is strictly just to interview, record, and meet with fans.

There's a way to do this without burning them out, and I'm determined to figure that out, despite what my boss is demanding of me, and essentially, of them.

And I'm not thrilled about the idea of throwing Toby into the mix of this crazy schedule when we haven't had a chance to talk in the last three days, let alone discuss what his plans are with his sobriety.

Because while I know it shouldn't matter what my personal wishes are, and that this is all about the band as well as the individual, I need to see him. See how he's doing now that he's back in the same places that lead him to drink.

Around with the same crew that enabled the demons without even knowing it.

I need to know I can trust the man not to fly off the deep end without supervision.

We won't talk about how in knots my stomach is over not seeing him with my own eyes. Nope, we don't need to talk about that.

"How long do you plan to ignore me?"

Pushing back from the screen, I rub my eyes. "As long as it takes."

Leo heaves a hearty sigh and picks up his phone, the screen reflecting in the readers perched on his nose. "At least tell me what takeout you want."

I shake my head when he glances at me over the devices and stretch side to side, easing the tension in my neck that's built up from spending so much time leaning over this dang laptop.

"Seriously?" he huffs, the local delivery app illuminating the lenses. "Just give me something, Anna. I'll have it here in twenty minutes."

"Sounds more like a you problem to handle, boss." Closing the laptop, I push to my feet and stretch. "Unless you'd like to order my dinner for me and leave me alone with it."

He sighs and swipes away the app. "Fine. I'll send something up and be on my way." He closes his own computer and finally stands. Pops sound with each inch that he gains, finally stopping with an ache-filled groan off his lips. "Jesus, I'm too old for this leaning over laptop shit."

"Uh-huh," I mutter knowingly, my brow cocked in his direction.

"Don't start with the I told ya so BS."

"Oh, I wasn't. Your body was doing it for me. Just like the—" I gesture with a pointer to the readers still clinging to his nose. "Old man look you got going on."

Leo scoffs. "I'll have you know, some chicks think it's hot."

I snort out a laugh. "I'm sure they do."

He shakes his head and reaches for the readers in question with a small grin. "These guys are the culprit. They're aging me."

"I don't think it's all of them."

"I thought you were ignoring me. Can we go back to you ignoring me?"

"Sure. Now get out."

Leo chortles, nodding. "We definitely should stop using your apartment as an office."

"Yes. We should." He's still shaking his head when he lifts his bag to his shoulder and walks to the door.

"I'll send up Chinese," Leo mutters, the door open, his foot already cresting the hallway. "And have a good night."

"You, too, I guess," I call to his back. I catch his half wave flail into the air moments before the door closes behind him, finally shutting me in my own place.

It's the first time in months I've been alone alone, without a ringing phone in my palm or a looming bossy presence taking up my couch.

The sudden silence feels almost … eerie.

Void of clanging dishes I'd end up rewashing, TV show reruns over the crackling fire, or the soft strums of a guitar.

It's too quiet.

One would think, after dealing with Toby and working endlessly, I'd want a piece of the quiet life. That I'd be dying for the peace and complete lack of continued auditory stimulation.

But tonight … it just feels empty. Hollow.

Looking around my studio apartment, with all its tall ceilings and exposed brick walls, I feel more lost than ever.

It's so quiet that it's loud.

There's a small voice tickling the back of my brain, telling me to pick up my phone and dial a particular bassist's number, even if it's just to see what he's been up to.

Wheeling around, I locate the device sitting silent on the arm of the couch and nibble at my bottom lip.

Did he eat anything?

Nonsense. I'm not the man's keeper. He can take care of himself.

But would he come over?

I shake my head because why would Toby Jeffers want to come over to my apartment? Why should I care what he's doing? He's back home, with his band, and probably raising Cain in all kinds of ways that I'm going to have to deal with in the morning.

Maybe it would be best to check in, at least …

Does he miss me?

My eyes go wide as I suck in a breath.

"What am I doing?" I ask aloud and shudder against the chill raking over my own skin, the idea absolutely ludicrous.

I do not do this. I do not chase after anyone that does not wish to be caught.

I do not fawn over men with baggage bigger than their equipment, and I especially don't violate my own rules by sleeping with anyone I work with.

Except you already did that, Anna.

I growl into the open space and abandon the phone for the fresh linens in my bedroom. I slip into my pajamas, the comfy, stretchy kind, and stomp my way to the fridge in my open concept kitchen. It reminds me too much of the cabin with how easily I can see my couch from the counter, the breakfast bar the only thing separating me from the furniture.

I release my frustration with another audible sound and toss the water bottle onto the counter.

Wine. I need wine.

With stiff fingers, I retrieve the bottle and opt to skip the glass for drinking straight from the bottle. After the first long pull, I stare at the liquid swishing around inside, leaving long legs of droplets down the smooth surface.

Liquid I've now contaminated by drinking straight from the source without a single second thought.

Who am I?

Counting my shaky breaths, I walk to the sink and tip the bottle until the red splashes against the metal and swirls its way down the drain.

I have no idea who I am and I don't know when that happened.

Retrieving the backup wine I've had in the cabinet just as long, I uncork the bottle. It, too, finds its way to the sink where I empty the contents down the drain.

I'm elbows deep into scrubbing the sink clean with a prickling to the backs of my eyes when the beeping of my phone breaks the unbearable silence.

A wave of relief washes over me as I scurry across the tile to the device, my thoughts finally silenced.

But then the name flashing across the screen twists my stomach up so tight I'm pretty sure I'm going to see that drink of wine all over again.

I swipe to answer with shaking fingers, my heart in my throat. "Hello?"

"Anna? It's Denver."

Oh, God, please no.

"I'm gonna need you guys to come get him. I don't wanna have to blacklist him from my bar."

"O-okay," I mutter from under the weight pressing my chest in, threatening to cave in on me. "I'll call one of the guys."

"Uh-uh. He's asking for you ."