A Better Man (Sing Out Book 5) by Hanna Dare

Author:Hanna Dare [Dare, Hanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-09-26T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

“You’re sure this is okay?” Conor asked for the twentieth time.

“Believe it or not, Gillis, I can survive without you for a few days.” Conor raised his eyebrows and Derek conceded, “Barely survive.”

Conor was flying back to L.A. so that he could be at work at some crazy early hour Monday morning, while Derek was staying on for a couple more days. He wasn’t sure what good it would do, but everybody seemed to think he should. At the very least, he could go and see what his uncle wanted.

“Do you want me to call Sam for you?”

“Already did. Focus on getting your own shit together.” They were searching the living room for the second time for Conor’s phone charger, while his dad warmed up the car to drive him to the airport.

Conor frowned around the room. “I’ll just buy another one, I guess.”

“Yeah, throw your money away, rich guy. Lemme check your room again.”

Derek did a quick sweep of Conor’s bedroom, going to the bed to lift up the blankets. As he did, his foot struck something hard under the bed. He dropped down to take a look.

As soon as he saw the guitar case, he knew, but he still drew it out from under the bed. Derek was used to guitar cases filling up the corners of their apartment and he recognized this one as old, covered with faded stickers from places Conor had never been. Derek knew what was inside, but he lifted the latches and opened it. He didn’t deserve to be spared from anything.

A broken guitar lay in the case, its body cracked and shattered, pieces held together in places by only the varnish and a few splinters of wood. It had belonged to Conor’s mother. It had probably been the most precious thing Conor owned and Derek had destroyed it.

He’d done it in the garage of this very house, a little more than a year ago and a lifetime away. Conor had told Derek that he was leaving, going to California, and Derek had hated the sick drop he felt in his stomach, hated that Conor had made him so weak that he actually could be hurt. Finding his anger, finding a way to make Conor be in pain instead of him had been almost a relief. And so, he’d picked up the guitar and smashed it on the ground.

He still remembered the cold rage that had surged through him, just as he could remember, even more perfectly, the stricken look on Conor’s face.

Derek had thrown up afterwards, yanking his car over the side of the road and pitching up his breakfast into the muddy gravel. If only he could have vomited up whatever evil thing lived inside him and left it there, wriggling and dark, on the ground—or even better, carved his heart out of his chest so that he wouldn’t have to feel… everything. But he couldn’t take either of those things out of himself. He was left just as he

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