“Stellan, please hear me out.”
Where the fuck was Foster?
“I don’t have time for this.”
Deciding Foster could find me when he returned, I turned to walk away, but Matthias was right on my tail. I finally came to a halt when I realized he wasn’t going to leave me alone, and belatedly noticed I was in a dark corner that looked more intimate than anything else.
“I don’t know what your game is, but I’m not interested in playing. What we had is over. It was finished the day you left me for your wife. And if this is your pathetic attempt at trying to get me back now that you realized your mistake, it’s too late.” I practically spit the words in his direction, making each one sound more lethal than the last.
He flinched at my venomous tone but didn’t back down. “Is it, though?”
He took a step closer to me, but I refused to back away. “It is. I’m seeing someone, and you’re too fucking late. What we had is in the past, and I don’t have any desire to revisit it.”
Matthias sighed and ran a hand through his wavy blond hair. “We used to have a good time before I fucked it all up. I was scared, Stellan. Scared what my family would think. Scared what my friends, my coworkers, would say. Surely you can understand my fear? I was risking losing everything because of you.”
“So it’s my fault? If I remember correctly, you came on to me,” I reminded him.
“Yes, but only because you made it difficult for me to stay away. You were always around whenever I went to the clubs. So finally, I made a move.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better? Are you even listening to yourself? You chose a fucking trust fund over your happiness and look what it got you. Divorced and crawling back to me. Leave, Matthias. Leave this bar and stay the fuck away from me.”
He placed a hand on my forearm, and his touch felt so wrong it nearly burned my skin. I jerked away as he stumbled through another explanation I ignored. I was done listening to his excuses, and after giving him a final warning to stay the hell away from me, I left. And while every step took me farther from my past, they only increased my rage.
Seeing Matthias had been a reminder of how I’d allowed my heart, and my dick, to take the lead in my relationships and emotions, rather than logic and rationale. My biggest fear was that history would repeat itself and that Foster would wake up one day and realize he was done with me. He was curious, and I was his guinea pig, but I just knew that what we were doing wasn’t meant to last forever. And rather than keep my guard up with a steel wall to reinforce it, I got swept up by Foster and allowed it to crumble.
My emotions were all over the place, and I just needed two fucking seconds to decompress and fathom what had just happened. Having Matthias waltzing back into my life, after wrecking it, rocked my world. It made me question everything I had going with Foster and fear for when it’d end.
When Foster came to find me, I couldn’t stop myself from lashing out. Once again, my emotions were in control, and I allowed them to do the talking for me as I flung my words at him. I could see the hurt in his face, but I was too far gone to stop. I' just punched him with my accusations and only stopped when I had nothing left to say.
It was only when he was gone, after his fuck yous and letting me know he was falling for me, that I realized what an asshole I’d been. I was nearly rendered speechless over his declarations, but a part of me refused to believe him. That part was the reason I didn’t chase after him and instead went back inside to finish my gig.
“Is everything okay?” Maverick inquired after he took one look at my thunderous expression.
“No,” I said bluntly.
“Do you—”
Knowing what he was about to ask next, I held up my hand to cut him off. “No, I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to play this next set and get the fuck out of here, okay?”
Maverick held up his hands in surrender. “Okay. Let’s get started.”
It was a double-edged sword that my mind wasn’t all the way into playing the music. My focus was entirely on Matthias and Foster, and not at all on working my fingers over the keys. Thankfully, I didn’t need to think as I played, my hands acting on autopilot, but I wished I did. Because then I could’ve pushed my dumpster fire of a love life on the back burner to focus on my job. I knew I wasn’t on top of my game, but how could I put my heart into my music when it was broken?
“What was that about?” Maverick asked a little while later when we were packing up to go.
“I told you I don’t want to talk about it.”
Maverick didn’t budge. “And I don’t care. You were terrible back there, Stellan. I’ve never heard you play with so little emotion. Whatever happened between sets, fix it before the next show or don’t bother coming.”
I startled at his words. “You’re joking, right?”
But Maverick shook head. “The Messengers has a reputation to uphold and we only offer the best to our fans. If you can’t deliver, then don’t bother trying. I refuse to allow you to tarnish our name because you’re having problems you won’t face. It’s because of these people who continue to follow us and listen to us play that we get to continue doing what we do. They deserve more than a half-assed performance!”
“I’m the best goddamn saxophone player this band has ever had, and I’ll be damned if I allow you to tell me otherwise.”
I could feel questioning eyes on us as bar employees and the other band members watched the exchange, but I paid them no mind. It wasn’t the first argument Maverick and I had ever had, and I doubted it’d be the last. Though, having him tell me not to show up was a new one, and all it did was further piss me off.
“Then act like it. Whatever is going on with you, fix it. My guess is it has something to do with Foster since he’s no longer here. I already knew you could be an asshole at times, but if you screwed up with him, then you’re a bigger one than I gave you credit for.”
The argument was there, waiting for me to say them, but as I continued to stare at the older man, my resolve crumbled. Much like my guard had.
“I don’t know if I can,” I admitted. “I was…fuck. Maverick, I was such a dick to him. Now I’m afraid it’s too late.”
“I’m not the one you need to be saying this to. It’s not too late unless you make it that way. There’s still time, Stellan. Make things right with him. Something tells me he’ll give you a second chance, but the question is: Do you deserve it?”
“I really don’t know,” I answered truthfully.
“Then maybe you should go find out.”
Minutes later I was in my car speeding toward Foster’s house and praying that Maverick was right—that it wasn’t too late. Relief washed through me when I saw his car in the parking lot, and a quick glimpse showed that a light illuminated his bedroom window. Thank fuck, he was home.
I parked my car, nearly forgetting to turn the ignition off and locking it up, and sprinted toward the building. I took the stairs two at a time, and when I reached the top, I ran toward the door I knew he was behind. I brushed my hand through my hair, smoothed down my clothes, and then clenched and unclenched my fists a few times as I struggled to battle my nerves. Finally, I gave myself a mental kick in the ass and rapped my knuckles against the door. Then I held my breath as I waited to see if he’d answer.