“That bitch!” He mutters more expletives. The little tirade is probably more cussing than he’s done this entire year.
“Devlin didn’t react very well,” I say quietly.
“No shit.”
“He left.” It hurts to say it out loud.
A moment of silence. “You know, this would be the time to ditch him if things haven’t been going well.”
“No. I want him back,” I say before Max gets any weird ideas about how Devlin and my relationship should go. “You saw that picture. Did I look unhappy?”
“No. But people fake it all the time in selfies.”
“Well, I wasn’t faking anything.” It started out fake, but now it’s more real than the heart beating in my chest.
Max hums. It means he’s thinking. “Okay. Let me talk to him.”
“No!”
“A man-to-man talk can help,” he says.
“I know you want to fight this battle for me, but you can’t.” I smile a little at my brother’s protectiveness. “I’m a grownup now.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Really. Max, I can’t hide behind you every time I have a problem.”
He sighs, then lets out a sad, prolonged grunt, making my heart swell with affection. “When did you grow up?” he says.
“I’ve been grown up. So… Can you help me find Devlin so I can talk to him and fix our marriage?”
“Yeah, but there’s something you gotta know. Devlin has a thing with cheaters. You know he wrote that song, right? ‘Eat Your Heart Out’?”
I cringe at the reminder. Does Devlin now think I deserve the sentiment in that song? “Yeah. I read that in an interview.”
“It’s based on his experience. There was this girl he really liked, and she cheated on him. He caught her red-handed.”
Holy crap. That explains Devlin’s reaction and refusal to answer my calls or texts.
“Things went south real fast,” Max adds. “Since then, he’s refused to commit to anyone.”
So seeing me with my arms around another man must’ve really hurt, like a punch in the nose. Damn it. Sylvie managed to find the perfect way to ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to me. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know. But for now, he’s refusing to even look at my texts. Do you know where he is?”
“I can tell you he’s not at the Axelrod mansion here in Dallas,” Max says.
“Then where? Spain?”
He lets out a grunt. “Lemme check around before you book a flight to God knows where.” He hangs up.
I tap my fingers on my legs, then look at the drum set Devlin left behind. I go over and run my hands along the edges of each drum, wishing he were here and missing him so much.
My ph
one buzzes.
–Max: He’s at Killian’s. Here’s the address. Easiest way is to fly to DC and drive down.
I let out a soft breath of relief. At least he’s in the country. I can get to Virginia, no problem.