This Is Not the End - Sidney Bell

Also available from Sidney Bell

and Carina Press

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The Woodbury Boys

Loose Cannon

Hard Line

Rough Trade

Also available from Sidney Bell

Your Mileage May Vary

This Is Not the End

Sidney Bell

For Sasha, who deserved a dedication long before now, and who loved Anya even when I was convinced no one else would.

Contents

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Excerpt from Forgiven by Garrett Leigh

Part One

Anya

“Why haven’t you ever fucked Cal?” Anya asks her husband one afternoon in the kitchen, musing aloud around a mouthful of undressed spinach salad. She’s trying to shuck the last of the post-baby weight now that PJ’s been mostly weaned. She doesn’t have to be as rigorous about her diet anymore—one of the best benefits of being behind the camera instead of in front of it these days—but fashion can be a shallow industry regardless of where you’re standing. Being a woman is a ridiculous endeavor sometimes.

Zac, trying to coerce PJ into taking a few more bites of unappetizing green goop, splutters, turning his body like he needs to protect their son from the question.

It’s not the sex part—they talk filthy all the time around PJ, who is an infant, for crying out loud, and doesn’t understand. No, it’s the Cal part that has Zac flustered, and Anya leans against the counter, amused and intrigued.

He gives her a dirty look. “Why would you ask that?”

She snorts. “Do you think I’m stupid? Or blind?”

“Don’t,” he says warningly.

She softens her voice. “Did something happen?” Maybe Zac made a move and Cal turned him down. Or perhaps Cal is homophobic. She’s seen no evidence of it, but then, despite how present he is in her life, she doesn’t know him well at all. Cal has mastered the art of saying many things while saying nothing at all.

All she has to go on is the way she’s seen Zac and Cal together, and that’s not enough to give the truth away. They’re blurred where their edges touch—bandmates since they were teenagers, riding the wave of global success together. While the hired guns for tour come and go, Zac and Cal are Hyde, will always be the foundation of it, and everything they’ve built in their lives is a result of that. They’re a weird amalgamation of friendship and professionalism and artistry and family and—somehow—strangers, all at the same time. She can’t make sense of them.

She is certain they’ve never had sex, though. Zac is different with someone once he’s fucked them. Casually possessive, certain in his authority. If Cal had ever yielded, even once, even just for five minutes a decade ago, she would see it. It’s one of the things Anya finds most attractive about Zac, the way he orbits around the people he considers his. He unashamedly needs them, demands that they need him back, and sees no weakness in showing it.

Zac doesn’t answer her question. He only busies himself with the baby.

“He can’t be straight.” She frowns. She can’t try to get Cal to put out for Zac’s birthday if he’s straight. Even she’s not that much of a jerk. “Is he? He’s at least bi, right?”

“I don’t know, actually.”

“You don’t know? He’s your best friend and you’ve lived practically in each other’s pockets for almost two decades, and you don’t know?”

“He’s weird about that stuff,” Zac says defensively. “He’s private. Stop picking on me.”

“You’re being very dramatic about this.” She takes another bite of spinach. Ugh. Bland, bland, bland. She eyes her husband’s long, lanky build with no small amount of jealousy. He can eat whatever he wants and never gain a pound, of course.

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’m the dramatic one.”

“He is your type, though. You’d fuck him, right?”

He scowls in her direction. “You really think I’m hard up enough to warrant this conversation?”

“I know you’re not,” she says dryly. The carpet burn on her ass still stings from when they’d fucked on the living room floor two nights ago. “I was just thinking that your birthday is coming up. You already have everything else you’ve ever wanted.”

Zac dumps a handful of dry cereal on the tray of PJ’s high chair. “That’s a good thing, in case you couldn’t tell.”

“Besides, I’ll admit I’m a little curious as to why you haven’t done it already. He’s nice to look at.” She gives him a sly smile. “The cheekbones, Zac. Like that dancer in Hong Kong during the Mission tour? In the back room.”

His expression shifts. He’s thinking about it.

“Only Cal’s are better.” She licks her lips, about as subtle as