Synister: The Push Series - Book 1 (6 page)

I felt my phone vibrate. “Great, who the hell is this?” Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I looked at the screen and saw Carter’s face and number appear.
Shit.
Sliding the green arrow to the right, I answered, “Hey, Carter. What do you need? I am kinda in the middle of a mess right now.”

“Brooklyn, you left in the middle of the night. No note, no explanation. Is it Synister? If so, I swear to Christ I’ve had it.” Carter’s tone was short. Bless his heart, he was trying to be a hard ass, but that didn't suit him. I didn’t think he could kill a fly. I wasn't with him for his power; he was a security blanket. He never had my full attention anyway. Carter knew he was in the shadows of Synister. At one time, I felt sorry for Carter. Living in the shadow of another man had to be difficult. Dating the best friend of a man like Synister—that would make any man question his male fortitude on a good day. I didn’t blame Carter for hating me. After all, I had put him in the position of second best. It was time to end the masquerade. I had had enough for both of us. I thought I loved Carter at one time, but now he was just...comfortable.

“Carter, listen. I have had a shitty night, and it is only about to get worse. You cannot and do not have the right to tell me what to do. Why don't you do us both a favor and have your stuff out of my apartment by morning? I think we both know there is no future for us. I gotta go.” With those words, Carter was gone, and again, Synister was the only man in my life. I needed to get my head checked. Apparently, I was a glutton for punishment. Placing my phone into my skirt pocket, I continued to the open sliding glass door and took a deep breath. For a minute, I took in the view of the Chicago skyline. The city was beautiful. The buildings and cars looked like lights on a Christmas tree racing after each other in the darkness.

Leaning my head through the opening, I saw Syn slumped in a chair, jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, no shirt, and his signature black Doc Martens. His hair was wet from either sweat or a shower. No color was in his cheeks, and if it weren’t for the movement in his chest, I would have sworn he was dead. Reaching out my foot to meet his, I kicked his boot, bringing him to life. As he opened his eyes, even though it was pitch-black, he squinted like we were in Miami on a sunny afternoon. I could feel my blood boiling. Yep, I was going to explode. He hadn’t even spoken, given me an explanation, and I was ready to snap his neck. I often wondered if he would have come up with another answer, or if the events of that night had been different, would the rest of my life have played out the same? No matter the what-ifs and the could-have-beens, we were exactly where we were supposed to be. So when Synister Smith opened his mouth, I listened. A part of me was mad that I always gave him the upper hand, but what choice did I really have in the matter? He owned my heart.

His deep, husky voice cut through the night air and tickled my spine while twisting my heart simultaneously. “Hey, baby girl. You know I love you, right?”

And, just like that, the meteor collided with the sun.

Brooklyn
- I’m Gonna Kill Him

"Synister, knock it the hell off and get up.” I was in no mood for his games. Reaching for his feet, I bent over and pulled his body off the chair. When his ass connected with the ground, he knew I meant business.

“Ow! What the hell was that for? Most women want to hear Synister Smith, drummer for the infamous Push, profess his love for them.” As he pulled himself to a seated position, he raised his palm to his lips and blew me a kiss. When I placed my hands on my hips and began to tap my foot, the time to play games had ended. Synister was trying his damnedest to avoid dealing with the fact that he had beckoned me to Chicago, and now that I was here, he would have to deal with the consequences. Synister was pushing my buttons. I thought for a second about bending down, getting eye to eye with him and giving him the verbal beating he deserved.

Why did I keep doing this? What was the hook? Synister Smith needed to learn a lesson, and Lord knows I was the only woman who would teach him one. I was going to do just that. Summon me here for what? Oh, hell no. Brooklyn Reigns had had enough. Game over. As I walked past him, he put his hand up, asking for me help. Oh, I didn’t think so. I shot him a glare, and he quickly pulled back his hand for fear that it would get smacked.

“Please tell me you did not just say that. Tell me you did not just compare me to one of those nineteen-year-old sluts with too much cleavage and not enough brain cells to form a complete sentence.” Stepping back inside the door, I reached down and began picking up clothing from Gods knows who off the floor.

I heard him mumble from below me, “So much hate, B.” When I refocused my squinty eyes on him, he was smiling. I just shook my head from side to side. He knew I could never be truly mad at him. There were times I hated what he had become, but I never hated
him
. As pissed as I was, I still saw my friend, which only made me more pissed.

“To think, Synister, I left Carter to come here and mop up another one of your fuck ups. Goddammit, you sent me a text, and here I am. I have a real job, with real deadlines, Mr. Rock Star. You know what? Forget it. Are you even listening to me? You are so arrogant. Let’s mix that with drunk and most likely high. Really, Synister? Telling me you love me? Honestly, I have heard that from you before. You’re a piece of shit. You know that, right?” Throwing my hands in the air, I was done. I could have the jet ready and be back to Vegas before sun up.

I turned on my heels, making my way through the penthouse suite. I was leaving. He needed to come to his senses. Alone.

To this day, I had no idea what caught my eye about that envelope, but it jumped out at me like the first star in the night sky. Maybe it was the way it looked purposely hidden, or the fact it was poking out, just far enough, from his blue wool pea coat to grab my attention. Either way, it did. I grabbed the envelope, and it was already open. Pulling the flap back and removing the white paper from its resting place, I read the words but refused to accept their meaning. This was impossible.

I heard his boots thumping along the floor behind me, and I knew his next move. When he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me to him, I smelled cologne and aftershave. He wasn’t drunk and most likely not high. Now I was the piece of shit for assuming he was. As the gravity of the words on the paper sank in, my hands began to shake. When Synister reached around and placed my trembling hands in his, he confirmed, in the most innocent of acts, why he had always been my center. I knew I loved him, always had. Too many years of getting in our own ways had secured that our passion would be as friends and never as lovers. I was still processing the unbelievable when he spoke. His words were a mere whisper, but they carried the weight of a thousand pounds and broke me to my core. “Don’t worry about that, B. They don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about.”

I knew otherwise. There was no coming back from this…no encore.

“Do the guys know?” All sass was gone from my voice. It was replaced with sadness and confusion. Syn never answered me with words, just shook his head no and then placed his forehead on my shoulder. “What about Scottie?”

“No, B. No one knows. Only you. How the hell am I gonna explain this? Scottie is my baby brother. I vowed to take care of him. And now...this. Fuck.” Synister let go of me and walked across the room, wiping his hands over his face and through his hair.

I hated feeling out of control. Like you were hurling through the air toward a brick wall with no way to stop yourself. The next steps were out of our hands, and there was nothing I could do to make it better, or make it go away. When he demanded I come to Chicago, I assumed it was to take care of another fangirl who couldn’t take a hint. I never, ever, imagined it was this. We were going to have to fight this. My concern was if he was strong enough, if I was I strong enough. Was there even a “thing” to fight, or would we have to come to terms with this reality? Either way, I knew in my heart he was going to have to break in order to be put back together again. But how many times could one person fall apart before the pieces no longer fit?

Syn plopped down on the couch and motioned for me to walk toward him. For some reason, I could not let go of the envelope. I didn’t know if I felt that by holding on to it that I could control it, change it. The closer I got to him, the more I could see the weight of this
reality
playing out on his face. Sitting down beside him, I leaned back on the couch, and as I laid my head on the leather, I felt Syn tilt his head toward mine. Sitting there in the quiet, holding a piece of paper inscribed with words that just changed every thread of reality I knew only fifteen minutes before made my heart race. Syn was the first to break the silence as he reached for his phone.

“Synister Smith, so help me God, if you pull out some picture of a chick doing God knows what, I will bitch slap you. It will not be funny. This is serious.”

“Calm down, B. I want you to hear something. It’s still rough, but I need your thoughts.”

While I looked down at the paper in my hand, Syn spoke the words that would haunt me for years, “My life is still mine, at least for now.” Reaching over, he pulled the envelope out of my hand and put it on the side table. As the music and lyrics filled the space, everything was normal again. “Scottie and I were fucking around in the studio. Not your typical Push track, but Oscar has been bugging the shit out of us to do a ballad, and when he laid down the keys, I knew the song I had been messing with would gel. As always, you are the first to hear the demo. Oscar has been driving me fucking insane to hear it, so I have to know your unfiltered thoughts. All right, B, you ready?”

“Yes.” Was all I could handle. I wasn't sure what else he could throw at me, but hearing a new song seemed the most normal thing so far tonight.

Piano and acoustic guitar filled the space, and when the words began, I would not have believed it was possible for my heart to hurt more, but it was absolutely shattered. I loved music. I loved Synister’s lyrics more than air. They were raw, and edgy to a degree that most people didn't get. Like deep within your core, I feel you shit. This was different. Maybe it was the piano, but the interlacing of the vocals and the haunting cadence of the keys burrowed into my soul. As I listened, I realized the vocals were not Scottie’s. I had heard Syn messing around before with background vocals but never a full track. His voice was deep, seductive, with a sadness that was tangible. As tears began to pool in my eyes, I couldn't help but know this was his way, given the recent developments, of telling me everything he felt but couldn't say. This was his way of telling me I had his heart as much as he had mine.

Meteor

I am broken

Pieces to a puzzle that will never fit

A clock without time

A soul without meaning

A man without a purpose

You are like the sun

A center I cannot find

A life I could never provide

To a love I will never earn

I have to say goodbye

I need you

My selfish plea

A life that will never be

Like the spine of a book whose pages are worn

I am ragged, useless, never to be

A shell, a hope, a mere whisper to the departed

I reach out for your shoreline no matter the darkness

No matter the depth I have traveled

And every time you guide me home

Wishing in the end you will stay with me

I keep colliding into you

Like a meteor to the sun

You will never be mine

Somehow I am still yours

Can you want me

This halfhearted fool

You have placed your heart with another

A destiny planned, choices made, love withdrawn

Yet still I try to find my way to you

You are my home

Out of reach

The road to your arms is now gone

Lost, covered is pain and hate

Ruined with mistakes and lies

These are the words of desperation

A new poison seals our fate

A new toxin taints my dreams

So I keep colliding into you

Like a meteor to the sun

I know I will break you

Leave you lost

But how can I lose you

You are not mine

So I head out alone