Heart Broke (Hard Rock Roots Book 8) Read Online Free Page A

the squeak of Trey's wheelchair …
    Bingo.
    “Can somebody help me down these fucking stairs?” he shouts from the hallway, doing his best Turner impersonation. I glance up sharply at Ronnie and he catches my gaze.
    “Oh, hell no,” he murmurs, but I'm already grinning.
    “Hell no what?” Lola asks, glancing between the two of us.
    “It's perfect, Ronnie. Unless you have a better idea?” He stares right back at me with his brown eyes and then sighs, pulling his cigarette from his lips with two fingers. I can see the resignation in his gaze, the fatigue pulling at the skin on his face. Ronnie is tired and he's done and he just wants this fucking over, like we all do.
    “Trey, honey, come 'ere for a sec,” I call, stepping back and moving across the room towards the door. I unlock it and find my little brother glaring up at me from his chair, a suspicious expression crawling over his features.
    “What the hell are you doing in Ronnie's room? You guys aren't, like, fucking or whatever, right?” I roll my eyes and send up a pray to whatever goddess will listen. Please help my brother to be less of a frigging Turner clone. Not sure I can take much more of this.
    “Just get your ass in here for a second, okay?” I take a step back and hold out my hand. Luckily, the dumb ass wheels himself in without further complaint and then sits there glaring at me. His brown hair's all mussed up and his skin is pale, but for the first time in weeks he looks like he's actually going to be okay, like he's going to stand up out of this chair and get his hands on a guitar again.
    “What do you want, Sydney?” he grumbles, glancing around the room with a wary expression that I can hardly blame him for.
    “Weeeell,” I drawl, leaning back and sliding my fingers into the back pockets of my jeans. Ronnie, Lola, and Jesse choose that moment to make an appearance, filling the doorway between the sitting room area and the bedroom proper. Trey looks at them for a moment and then flicks his eyes back to me.
    “What the fuck is going on here?”
    A smile pulls my lips apart, but I don't think it's very pretty.
    “Trey, we need to borrow your wheelchair for a little while.”

    Indecency hoodie. Check. A pair of Trey's Converse. Check. Some of those black fingerless gloves that Dax likes to wear. Dax … I shake my head to clear thoughts of Dax McCann and his sad little puppy dog face after he found out that his dad wasn't his dad. Oh god. And the way he collapsed after that anorexic bitch shot herself … Goddamn it.
    I shake my hands out and take a deep breath. Not thinking about Dax right now. No way. Nuh uh.
    I help Ronnie prop Cohen Rose's body into a more lively position and take a step back to look at him. He looks pretty fucking ratchet, but hey, so does my brother right now. I think he'll pass.
    “This is bullshit,” Trey growls from his spot on Ronnie's bed. We just tossed his crippled ass onto the blankets and hauled Cohen up into the chair. I mean, to get out of here in plain sight, broad daylight, do you have a better idea? Anyway, now we can use the wheelchair lift on the back of the rented van to haul Cohen inside. And if a random fangirl happens to snap a shot of the scene? Everyone will just assume we're taking Trey out on the town, grabbin' him a hooker or some shit.
    What happens after that is not my fucking problem … but I kind of feel like it should be.
    “You sure you want to take care of … the actual disposal by yourself?” I ask, smoking a cigarette and sliding a pair of shades onto Cohen's stiff, cold face. “I mean, if this all goes south, I'm kind of the person with the least to lose.” I shrug my shoulders and step back, keeping my attention focused on the black sweatshirt and the white Indecency logo instead of on Ronnie's face. I'm not trying to be whiny or morbid here, just speakin' the truth. Ronnie has kids and the sweetest little second chance romance you ever did see. Me … I'm just a stripper