And then they’d moved out here and Sabrina had become a friend. And Kate and Annabelle and Talia, who they’d hired to plan the opening parties for the new film, were becoming friends. She and Talia had a lot in common.

What did she and Sebastian have in common?

Head still bent over the keys, eyes narrowed almost to the point of being closed, he looked sort of manic. Given his previous troubles with drugs, she should’ve been worried about that.

She should—

Abruptly, the music stopped and her gaze snapped wide as he took a deep breath and pushed away from the piano.

With a sigh, he reached for the tablet and turned off the recording.

Then he handed the tablet back to her.

“Thanks. I’d appreciate it if you’d e-mail it to me.”

She took the tablet. “Is writing music always like this for you?”

Running a hand through his hair, he frowned. “Like what?”

“Like . . . it’s almost painful.”

He winced, but she wasn’t sure he realized he’d done it.

“Sometimes. Usually only when I’m working on the piano. If I’m working on a guitar, no. I don’t know why. It’s just not the same.”

Okay, he had an edge to his voice, which she interpreted to mean he didn’t want to talk. At least, he didn’t want to talk to her. And that hurt.

Shaking her head, she stood. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry—”

“Shit.” He stood in front of her, blocking her way to the door. “You’re not prying, Tru. Sorry. I’ve just . . . There’s a lot of shit going through my head. Usually it helps to play. Tonight . . .” He sighed. “Not so much.”

She debated pressing him to open up for all of two seconds. “Do you want to talk? You can go back upstairs to Sabrina or . . . you can talk to me. I’m a good listener.”

He huffed, his mouth curving in a wry smile, one that she felt like a caress, as if he’d reached out and run his fingers down her cheek. “Is there anything you’re not good at, Tru?”

Was that a dig? Damn him, she couldn’t be sure.

“And no, that wasn’t a dig.”

Shit, had she become so easy to read?

“I’m serious here,” Sebastian continued. “Because, honestly, I’m so damn bad at so fucking much that, even if you have only one little flaw, it’ll make me feel better.”

“How can you say that? You make music that millions of people love. And the score you created for the film is amazing.”

“Thanks. But everything else in my life is so fucked up and I don’t have a clue how to fix it. Every relationship I have is totally screwed because of one really stupid mistake. And I don’t know how the hell to talk to anyone about it.”

Was he talking about the fact that he’d almost died last year? She couldn’t imagine that he could mean anything else.

“So talk to me. You think I’m so damn smart, let me show you.”

But still he paused.

“Sebastian.” She reached for his hand hanging in a fist by his side and wrapped her fingers around it. The pain in his expression made her want to wrap her arms around him, but she wasn’t sure she should. Wasn’t sure how he’d take it or even what she meant by it. “Tell me.”

His eyes closed and she held her breath for another few seconds before he sucked in air and opened his eyes to stare straight into hers.

“Life’s so fucking easy when I’m on tour. I do a show, and then I get on the bus and head for the next city. I spend hours in small spaces with people I’ve known almost all my life. Friends I consider brothers. We know more about each other than our parents do.

“They’re the only people I have a connection to when I’m on tour. I could sleep with a different girl every night, but the next morning, I’d get up and say, ‘Thanks and I’ll see you later.’ No connections. You don’t get attached and you don’t have all this fucking mess.”

Tru nodded, her heart aching for the hurt she heard in his voice. Even though she wanted to smack him for sleeping with all those girls. For making her care that he’d slept with so many others . . . who weren’t her.

She tried to keep her expression neutral but she didn’t think she was doing such a good job because his mouth twisted again and he started to shake his head.

“That detachment was part of the problem, part of what pushed me over the edge. We’d been on the road for two fucking years. I felt like a fucking exposed wire. Constantly fighting the jitters, too much fucking noise in my head. Living in a bus with four other guys I love like brothers but never having any solitude. And it’s never quiet. There’s always music or motor noise or Zach drumming on something, anything he could get his hands on.

“And Nik . . . Jesus, Nik always had problems. I was always the sane one, the stable one.”

Yes, she knew exactly what that was like. That’d been her. Her dream had been to get the hell out of her one-stoplight hometown and move to Hollywood, so she’d devoted almost every waking second to making that dream come true, to the exclusion of drunken barn parties and boyfriends and school dances.

In the same way Sebastian had wanted to be a rock star.

“And then Nik fell in love.”

Okay, not what she’d expected to hear.

“The problem was I was sleeping with her, too.”

Wow. Totally not what she’d expected.

“So she was cheating on Nik with you?”

“No.”

Her brain stuttered a few times, processing that. It wasn’t like she didn’t know about ménages. It’s just that . . . What?

She shook her head. “I’m not sure I understand.”

His mouth twisted. “Obviously I didn’t, either. I thought we were having fun. Nik thought he’d found the girl he was gonna spend the rest of his life with. And Roxy thought she’d found a meal ticket.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. She also figured if she told Nik she was pregnant, it would help him get a ring on her finger that much faster. And that’s where it all went to hell.”

“Because you didn’t know whose baby it was.”

He sneered. “Because she wasn’t pregnant. And when I found out and told Nik, he told me I was full of shit. Then he found out I was right. Doesn’t sound like enough to push someone over the edge, does it?”

“How can anyone who’s not living in your head say that?”

He laughed but the sound held no amusement. “Be nice if the world worked like that, wouldn’t it? If everything had a reasonable conclusion.”

“But we all know that doesn’t happen. And I’m sure that’s not the entire story.”

“You’re sure, huh? Yeah, well, you’d be right.”

She wondered if he was going to share the rest. She wanted him to share the rest, to open up to her.

“On tour, the one person I could always count on to be there for me was Nik. We were each other’s rock. And when that went to shit, I lost it. We’d been on the road so long and it seemed like it would never end. We were all strung out. Nik and I were barely talking, and I honestly thought we were through. Turns out I’m the only one who thought that. Nik was pissed and hurt but he got past it. I was the one who couldn’t.

“I started to drink a little more, medicate a little more. But I wasn’t out of control. And yeah, I know that’s exactly what an addict would say, but even my doctor at rehab admitted I don’t have a chemical-abuse problem. Yeah, I took too many pills one night and nearly killed myself, but that’s why they’re called accidental overdoses. I had no desire to kill myself. I just wanted to make that little voice in my head shut the fuck up for one fucking night. But I drank too much alcohol, didn’t have enough food or water, and lost track of the pills.”

The guilt written so plainly on his face made her long to pull him down for a kiss. Even after last night, she still didn’t think she had the right. And she wasn’t sure he’d want her to.

“And this is where I become the biggest fucking coward on earth. I went through rehab because I knew I wouldn’t have to deal with anyone for a month. And when I got out, it was just still easier not to deal with anyone.”