He exhales slowly. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay. I can make it five more days.”
“Technically four, babe. I’ll see you in LA.”
He opens his eyes again to stare right into my very fucking soul. “Only four more.”
“You got this.”
I watch him drift, can practicallyfeelhim crashing. His eyes go half-lidded, lashes fluttering, breathing evening out.
And I stay right there, whispering soft promises until he falls asleep and I’m sure he’s safe.
I tell him how fucking much I love him.
I tell him how crazy I am about him. That I’m not whole without him.
I tell him he has my heart, all of it, and I’m not taking it back.
I go on and on, voice low and steady, until I’m sure he’s really out—face relaxed, chest rising slow and even—and only then do I finally let the silence take over.
SIXTEEN
IgroanasIwakeup. My body feels like it got run over by a truck and got dragged behind the vehicle for a couple of miles. Not that I’ve ever experienced that, but shit,allmy muscles just hurt.
Especially the ones that shouldn’t.
When I rub my face, my elbow catches on something hard next to me on the sheets, and I turn my head. Missy’s phone.
And I’m in Ashers and Ava’s bedroom.
Shit.
I groan again, louder this time, when it all comes rushing back. I made a complete fucking fool of myself in front of her. For allthe years we’ve been besties, she’s never seen me naked. Not likethatanyway.
Ikindawish I didn’t remember everything about last night, but my call with Tyler? That was so fucking hot. It’d be adamn shameto forget that happened.
Could’ve gone without the memory of Missy barging in while I was knuckle-deep in my ass, though. Or the part where I held up my dick and asked if she thought it was crooked. Real highlight of my life.Fun times.
It takes me a while to sit up. Limbs stiff, head pounding, cursing under my breath as I nearly topple backward like a sack of potatoes.Shit, I hate drugs.
Thank fuck there’s a bottle of water on the nightstand—thank you, Missy—and I reach for it like it’s the Holy motherfucking Grail. But once I move, my bladder is demanding fucking attentionright the fuck now.
I swear some more as I grab the bottle, and hobble—naked—toward the tiny, shitty bathroom on this stupid moving bus. And yeah, it’s fucking moving. Which means every crack in the pavement, every bump and dip in the road, feels like it’s vibrating directly into the marrow of my bones.
This is hell. Tour bus hell. My ass hurts. My brain hurts. Mysoulhurts.
My mouth is parched, my head’s going bonkers—I keep blinking just to refocus—and my bladder is one more fucking jostle away from bursting.
Needless to say, I’ve felt better.
I do, however, think I’m pretty damn awesome when I manage to relieve myself and hydrate at the same damn time, downing the water bottle like my life depends on it.
Nope. Couldn’t wait. My throathurts.
Once it’s empty and I can finally swallow without wincing, I wash my hands and peek around the corner, relieved the hallwayis still empty. A foot with pink-painted toenails sticks out from behind the curtain of my bunk, and I wince.Shit.Ava and Asher must’ve had to crash in there after last night.
As quiet as I can not to wake them up, I quickly snatch a pair of joggers from the cubby where I keep my clothes, hoist them up, and stumble out toward the living area.
Jodie, our manager extraordinaire, is already stationed at the tiny breakfast nook, typing furiously on her laptop and looking way too fucking perky for this hour. She’s got tea. She’s got makeup on. She’s wearingactualclothes. I kind of hate her.
