“From what? Tobias wasn’t a threat to me.”

“He rubbed me the wrong way, and think about it, Mads,” he pleaded. “He got close to you without revealing his shit. That’s just wrong.”

“That’s my body, my decision.” She planted a hand on her hip. “I’m sure you don’t tell every woman you mess around with everything you’ve done in your life.”

“That’s different. I’ve never killed anyone.”

Her hands fisted in frustration. “I’m not doing this with you.”

“Because you know I’m right,” he said firmly.

“It doesn’t matter if I wish he’d told me or not. He was opening up to me, and I was okay with it happening slowly. That was my decision to make, not yours to judge.”

Blaine’s eyes remained stern, but his tone softened. “He didn’t fight for you, Mads. Why are you fighting for him?”

That stung, but she somehow managed to keep her composure. “I’m not fighting for him. I’m fighting for myself. I love you, and I know you mean well, but I don’t need to be under your thumb anymore.” She grabbed her guitar case. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I promised Marly I’d have a drink with her and her date.”

She swore Blaine grimaced, but instead of lightening the air and teasing him about making his move before he missed out, she left the room with her chin high and her heart heavy. Making her way toward Marly, she tried to temper the sting of his words—He didn’t fight for you—and drag herself out from under the frustration and grief that came from arguing with the brother she loved. But she had to stand up for herself.

Marly and Dante were talking quietly as she approached. Marly looked beautiful in a vibrant floral cap-sleeved low-cut dress, and Dante was as handsome and real as ever. The man didn’t dress up for anyone. His brown hair looked finger combed, his scruff unmanicured, and his faded T-shirt looked like an old favorite. But the smile in his eyes told Madigan he was into Marly.

“There she is.” Marly got up to hug her. “We were just talking about how much we loved your set.”

“Thanks.”

Dante stood, bending to kiss her cheek. “You nailed it, Mads.” He pulled out a chair for her.

“Thank you. That last song was a new one. I was a little worried about how it would go over.”

“The Dirty-Bastard Devil?” Marly raised her brows. “It was darker than your usual stuff, but so good.”

“What—or who—inspired it?” Dante asked.

Madigan glanced at Marly, nearly missing the slight shake of her head, indicating she hadn’t told him about Tobias. Relieved, she said, “Years of dating the wrong guys.”