Broken Vows (Saints & Sinners), page 1
Copyright © 2024 by Tori Fox
All rights reserved.
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Editing/Proofreading by Ellie at My Brother’s Editor
Cover Design by Dez Purington at Pretty In Ink Creations
CONTENTS
A note to readers…
1. Roan
2. Riot
3. Roan
4. Roan
5. Riot
6. Roan
7. Riot
8. Roan
9. Riot
10. Roan
11. Roan
12. Riot
13. Roan
14. Riot
15. Roan
16. Riot
17. Roan
18. Roan
19. Riot
20. Roan
21. Riot
22. Roan
23. Riot
24. Roan
25. Riot
26. Roan
27. Riot
28. Roan
29. Riot
30. Roan
31. Riot
32. Roan
33. Roan
34. Riot
35. Roan
36. Roan
37. Roan
38. Riot
Epilogue
Up next…
Also by Tori Fox
About the Author
A NOTE TO READERS…
This book does contain triggers that may be sensitive to some readers including:
Drug use
Alcoholism
1
ROAN
I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. Ones that I regret and others I would rather forget. But the one that rattles me to my core is losing my wife. It’s all I think about. Even here, sitting among my best friends trying to have a good time before we leave for the European leg of our tour, all I can think about is her. Riot. The one I let get away.
The hardest part of it all is that it’s my fault. There is no blaming her for anything. I’m a fuckup. An asshole. A bastard. I ruined the best thing I ever had all because I can’t control myself. I’ve never been able to. I couldn’t control myself when I had my heart set on her. I demanded we be together even though she was completely against it. Convinced her mentor was right that you can’t mix business and pleasure. And as things started to go south in our relationship, she always came back to that. Always said she knew this would never work out.
But none of it is her fault. It’s all mine. And now I have to live in constant heartbreak. Missing the woman I see all the time. Missing the two beautiful little girls we brought into this world. All because I let my vices get the better of me.
I take a long pull of the joint in my hand. Here I am, yet again, turning to my vices.
“You okay, man?” Wilder turns toward me, pulling the joint from my fingers and taking a drag.
I shrug, what else am I supposed to say? My life is falling apart, and all I want right now is to not feel anything. I can’t say that. I almost spilled my guts to him a few months ago when we were hanging out in his backyard but luckily I was interrupted by Silas.
I’m not the type of person who shares my feelings. I never really have been. The only person I ever let in was Riot, and I’ve learned that it means shit. Because look what happened. I ruined everything. I was so focused on myself I didn’t look to see what she needed. I let my vices get the best of me. I did too many drugs. Drank too much. And then I cheated. If it was only once she probably would have forgiven me. But it wasn’t just once. It was three times. Three times I forgot the vows I promised to keep and look where it got me. A divorced bachelor drowning himself in misery.
“You know if you just talk about it, things might get better.”
I snort as I take the joint back from Wilder. “And say what, man? I fucked up so much shit in my life, and all I want is forgiveness?”
Wilder studies me, and I know I’ve said too much. “If you asked her for forgiveness, she would give it to you.”
“No, she wouldn’t. She gave it to me one too many times. She’s done with me.”
Wilder purses his lips and shakes his head. “I don’t think so, man. I don’t think that woman will ever be over you.”
“She’s moved on, man.”
“I see the way she looks at you. I don’t think she’s moved on. I think she is just looking for a distraction.”
I raise a brow at him. “A distraction from what?”
“Her own feelings.”
“The only thing she feels toward me is hatred.”
Wilder grabs the joint from me again. “I don’t think so.”
“Then what?”
He takes a long drag then hands me back the almost-finished joint. “I think she misses what you guys had.”
I laugh at that. “No, she doesn’t.”
“I’m not talking about the way things were at the end. I think she misses what you guys used to have. Back when she finally gave in to you. The passion, the love that you all shared.”
“Don’t get sentimental on me. I think you are too in love with Lake to see the fact she hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“You don’t know what I did.” I regret the words as soon as I say them.
Wilder takes a sip of his beer. “Then maybe you should tell me.”
“And watch you tell everyone else? Thanks for the concern, man, but no.”
I feel my blood start to boil thinking about not only what I did, but that Wilder thinks I would just tell him.
“Come on,” he huffs. “You’ll never be able to move on if you don’t tell someone what happened. And I know you aren’t going to talk to a shrink. Might as well tell me.”
“You are the last person I would tell.”
He grips his chest. “I’m wounded.”
I ignore his pleading eyes and look around the party. We leave for the European leg of our tour in a few days, and Silas decided to throw a party at his house in LA.
“Roan.”
I grab a bottle of whiskey off the table in front of me and stand up. “I don’t need to hear this.”
“Hear what? I’m trying to help you.”
“Fuck off,” I mumble as I stumble away and into the house.
I’ll never tell the guys what I did. The final straw that made me lose my wife. That’s the one secret Riot and I will keep to ourselves forever.
I make my way past a group of women who have their eyes on me and head to the bathroom. I could really use a distraction right now. Something to make me forget that conversation happened. Then I almost slipped up and spilled my secrets to the gossip of the band. I may love my bandmates, but none of them deserve to know my secrets.
I slam the bathroom door behind me and dig into my pocket for the one thing that I know will ruin everything but that always makes me feel better. Makes me forget what I did. Yet makes me become the man I hate more than anything.
I pull the baggie out and shake a small amount onto the counter. I roll up a dollar bill and inhale the line of heroin. I immediately feel it hit. Not as strong as I want. Not the high I need. But enough to make me forget.
Forget about the pain I caused.
The lives I’ve ruined.
The woman I’ve lost.
I just want to forget it all.
2
RIOT
“Brixley, stop pulling my hair!”
I groan as I hear Lyric yelling at her sister. “Mike, I got to go, but we can go over these details tomorrow. I think everything should be good.”
“Lyricccccc!”
I wince as I hear my girls fighting. They have been getting worse and worse by the day. I really should have put Lyric in school instead of homeschooling her, but with my schedule, I feel like I never got to see my babies.
“The girls fighting again?” Mike asks.
“Always. I swear they get worse by the day.”
“I know what you mean. I feel the same way about my kids. You think they would get better once they got older. But teenage boys…be lucky you have girls.”
“Oh I know I’m lucky, but they still know how to drive their momma crazy.”
Mike chuckles into the phone. “I’ll get these final details smoothed out for the tour. No need to worry, Riot. We’ve done this enough times to know what needs to be done.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it.”
“Anytime.”
I hang up the phone and let out a long breath. Mike has been Saints & Sinners’ tour manager for the last five years, and we’ve always worked well together. I have no doubt he will get these final details smoothed out before the guys leave in a few days.
I’ve been Saints & Sinners’ manager for over ten years. My job is tough, managing the biggest rock band in the world, but I would never trade my job for another. I would bleed for the band as much as I know they would bleed for me. We all came from nothing. I knew they would make it huge one day. But at the time I was working as an assistant for an A&R rep who never believed in me. So one day I quit and decided to start my own company. The first thing I did was tell the guys in the band I was going to make them the biggest band in the world. They didn’t believe me. They never thought they could get to where they’ve gotten. But I never had my doubts about them. I knew
“Mommmmmm!”
I sigh as I hear Lyric yelling for me. These girls are a handful on most days. Their attitudes definitely come from their father.
I push away from my desk and make my way downstairs to find them in the living room fighting over a Barbie doll.
“It’s mine!” Brixley, my four-year-old, yells at her older sister.
“No it’s not, and you know it. This is my Barbie.”
“Girls!”
“No, it’s mine!”
“Girls!”
“You think everything is yours. You’re such a baby!” Lyric yells at her sister.
“I’m not a baby anymore.”
“Yes you are. A big old baby who spends her nights crying for Daddy, but he’s never coming back.”
Brixley lets go of the doll and starts wailing.
“Lyric, do not talk to your sister like that,” I yell as I make my way in between them.
“Well it’s true. She’s always crying for Daddy, and Daddy isn’t here to hold her anymore. He never will be.”
My heart clenches at her words. I know how angry she is with her father, but she has no right to talk to her sister that way. Not when I’m the reason her father isn’t here anymore.
“Lyric, apologize to Brixley right now.”
“No.” She pouts.
“Lyric, I’m going to count to three, and you better—”
“She always gets what she wants,” she stammers before running away and stomping up the stairs.
I let out an exasperated breath. I’ll deal with her later. Right now I need my youngest to stop crying.
“Come here, baby girl. Momma’s right here.”
I open up my arms to her as I kneel on the floor next to her, and she wraps her arms around my neck. Wet tears run down her face and into my hair as I hold her close.
My heart breaks for both my girls. And it’s my fault. I’m the one that kicked their father out. I was the one who said I wanted a divorce. And I’m the one that battled for custody. I never let him have a chance. Not after that final straw.
But I know my girls miss him. Brixley says it all the time, and Lyric is telling the truth when she says Brixley cries for her dad—it happens nearly every night. But I don’t have it in me to let him see her. Maybe that makes me a bad parent. But I worry about how he will act around the kids. When he wasn’t using, he was so good with them, but near the end, the drug use got bad, and he nearly lost everything because of it.
I hold Brixley in my arms until her tears diminish. I know she is hurting, and I don’t know how to fix it. I am so used to fixing problems all day, yet parenting is something I never expected. It’s so much harder than I thought it would be. And now being a single mom is even harder.
I hear Lyric still stomping around upstairs and know I need to go talk to her. She has been getting so angry lately, and I don’t know why. She’s only six. Yet she carries the weight of the world on her shoulders. I know she is angry with her father, and maybe she is angry with me too. I think she misses her dad more than she lets on, but she won’t talk to me.
And I shouldn’t be at the point where my daughter won’t talk to me. She is six not sixteen. Maybe she just needs to see her dad and then everything will be okay. Except I don’t know how her father will act around her when he is around. The guilt he feels weighs him down, I know that. But I am more worried about the state he’ll be in. His drug use has gotten worse, and I fear one day I am going to get the call I never want to get.
3
ROAN
The beat of the music matches my heart rate as we chill out in our practice space. We are preparing to leave for the European leg of our tour. It’s only a short break after the US leg so we aren’t too concerned about our performance, but we still like to practice at least three times a week.
Silas has some new metal band’s music playing, and I can’t help but get lost in the drum beat as I smoke a joint I’m sharing with him.
It seems like I’m high nearly every day, whether from weed, coke, or heroin. But I need it to get through each day. My depression is hitting an all-time low. At least I’m pretty sure it’s depression. I’ve never gone to a shrink mostly because I don’t want to talk about my problems. And I seem to get by just fine on my self-medication.
But things are getting worse. Part of it is that all the guys are happy right now. All in loving relationships, and it’s hard to watch. I liked it when we were all drowning. When we all had something weighing us down. But lately it’s just been me, and I can’t help but feel guilty over the fact I’m dragging the guys down with me into this hole of my life I live in.
I never wanted to be this way, but things have just gotten worse over time. I know it’s my fault, I know I should have been a better friend, a better husband, a better father. But I wasn’t. And I can’t change the past. And I’m not even sure I can change the future.
I take a long drag of the weed and pass it back to Silas.
“Do you think we should change anything about the setlist?” Wilder asks.
I don’t really care about participating in this conversation so I just sit back and let them figure it out on their own.
“If anything, maybe shake up the encore. I know we play some of our biggest hits during it, but what if we play some of our favorites instead and then end with Dying Breed?” Knox chimes in.
“That could work,” Jackson says. “I think we don’t play enough of our favorites. Maybe mix it up for each show.”
“You mean, play a different song every night?” Silas asks as he hands me back the joint.
“Yeah I think it would be fun.”
“Or a lot of work.”
“I think it would give the crowd something to look forward to.” Wilder adds.
“Roan, what do you think?”
I open my eyes and lift my head from the back of the couch. “Whatever, man, I don’t really care.”
Jackson gives me a look, and I know he doesn’t like my nonchalant attitude. “Come on man, let us know what you think, we are a band here.”
“As long as the crew is good with the changes, that’s fine with me.” See look, participating.
“I’ll give Riot a call and see what she thinks.”
Great, the last person whose voice I want to hear.
Jackson places the phone on speaker mode as it rings my ex-wife.
“Hey Jackson, I’m kinda busy—”
“Mooommmm!”
The sound of my daughter screaming in the background pierces me through the heart. I miss my kids so much, but after what I did, Riot has really pulled the reins back on me seeing them.
“Go play with your sister.” Riot’s words come out muffled as she is no doubt juggling the phone. “Oh god, I’m so sorry Jackson. I have no idea why I thought homeschooling the kids was a good idea.”
She is homeschooling them this year?
Jackson smiles as he stares at the phone on the coffee table. “Don’t worry about it. You’re on speaker by the way.”
“Of course, y’all had practice today. What’s going on?”
Silas clears his throat. “This idiot here thinks we should change up the setlist every night for the encore.”
“Interesting,” Riot answers. “That would definitely be something different than what you’ve been doing.”
“It’s a lot of work.”
“Silas, stop being a lazy fuck,” Knox says.
“What? It’s a lot of work to remember a new song every night.”
“What about the crew? Do you think it will be too much work for them?” Wilder asks.
“I’m sure they can make it work. I really like this idea, guys. There are still some shows that aren’t sold out yet, but I bet this will sell out the rest of the tickets when fans can see something different every night from what’s just been streaming across the internet.”
“So it’s settled then,” Jackson says as he picks the phone up off the table. “Thanks, Riot, talk to you later.”
“Y’all making me work hard,” Silas whines. “This handsome face has to do more than just stand there and look pretty.”
Knox punches him in the arm as a smile forms on my face. “You know sometimes you have to be more than just a pretty face.”
