Kyle nodded. “I’ll tell him what’s going on. For today, why don’t you practice in here while you learn the song?”

“That sounds good.” At some point I’d have to talk to Jared, but no matter what happened with him, I was a part of this band and I deserved to be on the show with them. I wanted to be by their side whether we won or lost and for everything that came after.

By some miracle, my hotel room was still mine. I’d never checked out, but I’d assumed the producers would cancel it after I’d left. But Dan wouldn’t let them give it up because he kept telling them I’d come back. Even after I’d walked away, he’d still believed in me.

I set my bags down and fell onto the bed I’d slept in for the last few weeks, and it felt as much like returning home as going back to my apartment. Except this room was much cleaner at the moment. I pulled out my acoustic guitar to play through “Behind the Mask” again so I wouldn’t be rusty on Monday, but as soon as I picked off the first chord, someone knocked on my door. I knew who it was before I even opened it.

Jared was holding his guitar case, and today’s villain shirt said, “Moriarty Was Real,” from BBC’s Sherlock. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked like he hadn’t shaved in days, but he was still every bit as handsome as I remembered. You’d think after spending nearly every waking minute with him for weeks I’d be immune to the shock of his blue eyes, his perfect lips, his kissable neck, but no.

“Not okay?” he asked softly.

“Not okay.” Very much not okay, especially now that he was here. “But I will be.”

“Did you get my messages?”

“Yes, but…I couldn’t listen to them.”

He gave me a hesitant smile. “Probably for the best. They were pretty pathetic. There was a lot of groveling and begging. Some drunken singing. It wasn’t pretty.”

Now I wished I had listened to them. Maybe things would be different now. Or maybe I still wouldn’t believe a thing he said. Jared was a master of words, of using his voice and looks to manipulate people, and I didn’t need any more empty promises.

He looked past me into the room. “Can I come in?”

I nodded and stepped back, quickly putting distance between us. I didn’t trust myself being so close to him. But he didn’t move toward me; instead, he set his guitar case down on the bed, and I realized it wasn’t his case—it was mine.