I didn’t let them get jacked over by women.

So actually, he was wrong.

I did have something to do with the band.

It wasn’t a big thing.

But it was a thing.

So him saying that like he just said that.

It hurt.

“You best be careful, brother,” DuShawn said low, jerking his head my way.

“Great, now you’re gonna tell me how to handle my woman?” Preacher asked.

Handle me?

“I think perhaps I should finish packing,” I put in.

“Yeah,” Preacher said to me. “You do that.”

I sent him a look that I figured would peel paint off walls and began to turn to the doors to close them and leave them to it when Tommy called out.

“Lyla.”

I looked right into his eyes and said quietly, “No, Tommy. I’m sorry, but you know that cannot come from me.”

He looked pissed and maybe he had a right to be pissed.

But so be it.

I was pissed too.

I didn’t look to DuShawn.

He had the power to drag me in. He was older than all the guys, save Tommy, but he had a wisdom even Tom didn’t have, and a manner about him, with the issues they were discussing, he could manage to do what none of the others had done.

And especially with the way Preacher was acting, I couldn’t have that.

The band was my family.

My home.

But it was coming clear I had my own problems even closer.

Right in the heart.

And I needed all my focus for those.

I closed the doors behind me, and I resolutely did not listen to their voices coming through.

But they talked for so long, not only did I pack up myself, I packed up Preacher who usually did his own packing because, “Baby, when you pack my shit, it’s all orderly and tidy and when I open my bag when we get to our room, I feel like goin’ onstage and singing Rick Astley songs.”

I’d laughed at that.

Was he so funny and sweet just weeks ago?

Why did the shit times drag on forever and the good times go by in a flash?

The voices stopped, the doors to the bedroom opened and Preacher took two steps in and stopped.

“Goin’ down to breakfast, cher, ready?”

Now I wasn’t “babe” or “Lyla” but “cher.”

“Not being a bitch or anything,” this meaning I was totally being a bitch, “but I’m really not hungry.” Though that last was the truth.

I was avoiding his eyes and reorganizing my jewelry in my jewelry bag.

It took him a second to speak again and he did this to say, “Okay then, come down and have coffee.”

I zipped in some earrings and looked up at him.

“I’m good.”

“Lyla—”

“I’m not a puppy who follows you around, Preacher.”