Say You're Mine (The Gallaghers Book 1) by Layla Hagen (digital ebook reader .txt) 📗

I was pacing the suite, rotating my injured shoulder. The Advil hadn’t kicked in yet. Thomas and Harvey barged in a few minutes later.

“What happened?” Thomas asked. “Sasha didn’t say anything about an emergency.”

I glared at Lars. “You told them this is an emergency?”

He shrugged. “Thought it was the fastest way to bring them here. And I’m not exactly wrong.”

Harvey sat on one of the couches. Thomas stood near the minibar, looking between Lars and me.

“So what happened?” he asked.

Before I even opened my mouth, Lars started talking. He went on for a couple minutes. Hearing everything from him was excruciating.

“And I can’t tell who fucked up or what to do about it,” he finished. “You guys have any input?”

Harvey sat up straighter, focusing on me. “I have a question. Since when do you like exposing your dirty laundry?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” I asked.

“Nothing, was just curious.”

Thomas was silent. I didn’t like it.

“You and Cami went through a rough patch,” I began, hoping he could give me some insights.

“Yes, and it lasted about six months. We didn’t even speak during that time.”

Fuck no. I didn’t like where this was going. I didn’t even want this rough patch to last for six days.

“We had a huge fallout about those pics the press took of me with those fans that looked compromising. They weren’t, as you know, but convincing Cami was a different thing.”

“Come on, man! You were supposed to help. Look at him! He went from being confused to looking desperate,” Lars exclaimed.

“This is an entirely different situation.” I spoke calmly, even though I was definitely not feeling fucking calm.

Harvey stood up from the couch. “Dude, Lars is right. You’re putting gasoline on fire.”

Thomas held up his hands in defense. “I want him to be prepared for every scenario.”

“This is not a scenario!” My voice was definitely not calm anymore.

Walking up to me, Harvey patted my shoulder. “You do you. That’s what I always do.”

“But you’re single. I don’t think that’s Brayden’s goal,” Thomas said.

Harvey smirked. “Dude. If I’d been in your shoes, it sure as fuck wouldn’t take me six months to get my girl back.”

Lars leaned against a wall, clapping once. “Okay. Focus. This conversation is not productive, and Brayden here only has about two hours to get his shit together before we have to leave. Ticktock.”

“I’m going to my suite. I’ll see you all later,” I said, heading out.

No fucking way. This was a vastly different situation. Forget six months or six days—I didn’t even want this situation to last six hours.

Once I was alone in the corridor, I actually calmed down a notch. I went straight to our suite, but Isabelle wasn’t inside. Had she left the hotel? That was impossible. Security would have alerted me. I noticed one of the dresser doors open and looked inside. One of the robes was missing, as well as a bag, so she’d probably gone into the wellness area. I reached for my phone and swore. I’d left it in Lars’s suite.

Forget calling her. I’d just go straight to the wellness area.

Walking back to the corridor, I looked for any arrows pointing me in the right direction. I didn’t find any until I went to the goddamned elevator area. Finally. Turned out I had to go right back from where I’d come. On the way, I did see a few arrows; in my haste, I’d overseen them.

I heard the elevator ping in the distance but ignored it. The guys could deal with whoever was coming up to us. I had a one-track mind right then: finding Isabelle.

“Brayden,” Sasha said loudly not even a minute later.

I slowed down as she jogged up to me. She was frowning.

“We need to leave right now. Fans are regrouping in front of the hotel. It’s going to be much harder to leave in two hours as planned.”

“Go get the guys ready. I need to talk to Isabelle first.”

“You don’t have time.”

“Ten minutes.” I didn’t want to leave like this.

“Five.”

“Ten, Sasha. We got into a fight, and I want to talk to her. I’m not negotiating.” My tone brooked no argument.

She pressed her lips together but didn’t challenge me any more.

I hurried to the wellness area, hoping Isabelle really was there. Left, right, left again. I followed the arrows, right until I reached a glass door. Stepping inside, I looked around but didn’t see anybody. Fuck. Where is she?

I backtracked to the entrance and was just about to leave the area when I heard music playing faintly. Someone was listening to “Last Night.” Clearly I’d missed a section. It has to be her. It has to be her. I kept repeating that in my mind as I followed the sound.

I smiled when I entered the room. It had ten loungers, but there was only one person inside: Isabelle.

She was holding a hot drink while standing and swaying slowly to the music. The phone was on one of the loungers.

“Look who turns out to be a fan after all,” I said with a smile.

She startled and immediately put the cup down, pausing the music.

“Brayden!”

I walked right up to her, cupping her face.

“Listen, I only have a few minutes. Sasha said fans are regrouping in front of the hotel, so we have to leave right now.”

“Oh...”

“But I didn’t want to go without talking to you.”

Her eyes widened. I felt her pulse quicken under my fingers.

“I love you, Isabelle. You’re everything to me. I don’t doubt your feelings, okay? I realize it sounded like that.” I paused, searching for the right words. “I have this deep fear that I’ll make you unhappy, and that will drive you away, but that’s all on me, okay?”

“No, it’s on us. I know you pulled away from your family after the fans vandalized their house. It’s what you do to protect those you care about, but I’m not going to let you do it, okay? I love our life. It’s crazy, but I love it. And I’ve always