by Jayne Frost
When I heard his truck rumble to life, I chanced a peek, and found Zoe waving like we were old friends.
I waved back.
Once they were gone, I twisted around and did a quick sweep of the car, checking the floorboards and the backseat for anything I might’ve missed. After patting the dashboard one final time, I pushed the door open. Sunlight poured in, dancing off the surface of my lucky penny, suspended from a piece of twine on the rearview mirror. Out of habit, I rubbed the coin between my thumb and forefinger.
Years ago, I wore it around my neck. Until the night my dad ripped it off when he was trying to keep me from choking the life out of him outside the trailer. I didn’t realize it was gone until I got to Sean’s house. At the time, I thought the coin was the price I had to pay for my freedom. One penny, some cracked ribs, and a few dozen bruises. And strangely, I was okay with that.
But then a couple of days later when I snuck back to get my things, I found the penny in the gravel by the steps to the trailer. And though I should’ve been happy, all I could hear was my old man’s voice.
“Your life ain’t worth a red cent, boy. Don’t you ever forget it.”
Brought back to the present when someone touched my shoulder, I met Anna’s wide eyes.
“What did you do?” she asked. My back stiffened in defense, a knee-jerk reaction. But then her fingers shot to my hair, sifting through the strands. “You cut your hair?”
I chuckled. “Oh … yeah.”
Sean and Cameron wandered up, bags in hand, wearing identical looks of surprise. Or horror. Probably horror.
“Dude,” Sean said, wrinkling his nose. “Why would you do that?”
A smile wobbled on Cameron’s lips. “You look kind of like my accountant.” He cocked his head. “Do you do taxes?”
And just like that, the dark cloud lifted. Plucking the lucky penny from the mirror, I slipped the twine over my head and discreetly tucked the coin under my T-shirt. “Very funny,” I said, unfolding myself from the seat. “Let’s get this show on the road. We’re burning daylight.”
Two hours after everyone arrived, and we still hadn’t moved. The delay only served as a stark reminder that nothing was in the band’s control. This was Tori’s show. And that was my fault, since I’d given her the power by signing the plea agreement.
But did she really think she could jerk us around like this?
The curtain on my bunk rustled, and Sean’s five-year-old daughter peeked her head inside. Like always, it only took one look at Willow’s little face, and the tension ebbed from my body.
“Come watch me pway, Unc Lo.”
She tugged at her hearing aid, a habit she’d picked up recently. I wondered if she’d only just realized that they were there. Willow was born almost completely deaf, but for the last few months, her parents had been taking her for tests in preparation for the surgery that would restore her hearing.
“Sure, baby.”
I let Willow lead me to the sofa in the common area where everyone was sprawled out on the two couches facing the big screen TV. Everyone but Tori. Curled up in a captain’s chair with her legs tucked beneath her, she stared out the window like we weren’t even here.
Two can play at that game, princess.
Plopping down on the sofa, I kept my back to her. Cameron set his phone on his knee and nudged me with his elbow. “What’s the hold up?” he whispered. “Weren’t we supposed to leave, like, an hour ago?”
“This ain’t my barbecue.” I flicked my annoyed gaze to Tori. “Ask our manager.”
Cameron slanted his eyes in her direction, and I swear he shuddered. “Nah. I’ll just call Chase. He’ll give me the scoop.”
He pushed to his feet, and I turned my attention to Willow. “Whatcha got there?” I asked when she thrust a CD case at me.
“Zewlda.”
Glancing over the elf on the cover, I scratched my head. “O-kay.” Making eye contact with her daddy when she skipped off to load the game, I lifted a brow. “No Halo?”
Sean chuckled. “She’s five, dude.”
“Anna confiscated all the war games,” Christian chimed in. “We’re stuck with Zelda, Mario, and Luigi.”
I grabbed some chips from the bowl on the table. “Sounds kinky.”
The guys pressed their lips together to keep from laughing, but Anna wasn’t amused. I smiled at her innocently as Willow scooted onto my lap to begin her quest.
A few minutes later, Cameron reclaimed his seat. “The driver’s held up,” he said. “Could be another hour.”
I tamped down my irritation, because really, where else did I have to be? Our show wasn’t until tomorrow night. Settling back against the cushions, I watched Willow’s avatar running through the forest. There were worse ways to spend the morning.
When lightning flashed outside the window, Christian turned his phone in my direction. “Check it out. We’re going to catch the outer bands of that tropical storm.”
Green and red swirls danced on the screen, cutting a swath across the southern half of the state. If we would have left on time we’d be ahead of it. “Perfect.”
I turned to glower at Tori, but her chair was empty. Something about that didn’t sit well with me, but I didn’t know why. Slowly, I pushed upright and repositioned Willow on the cushion beside me. “Be right back, baby.”
Under the guise of stretching, I stood up. And that’s when I saw Tori, standing in the parking lot, fat droplets of rain soaking her hair and clothes. I was out the door in a second, splashing the newly formed puddles as I stomped toward her.
“What are you doing?”
She didn’t answer. Didn’t move. Just stood frozen with her face tilted to the angry sky, blinking the rain out of her eyes. Shaking off the heavy feeling in my chest, I gently took her arm. “Tori, what the hell?”
As if she just realized I was there, she jerked her gaze to mine. “It’s raining.” The words trembled as they fell from her lips. “It’s not supposed to rain.”
Another bolt of lightning flashed across the darkening sky, and a shudder took her whole. She shifted her gaze to the bus, and it was like watching someone’s worst nightmare come to life.
Taking a step to block her view, I cupped her cheeks, forcing her to focus on my words. “You’re all right.”
I wasn’t sure why I said it. Tori was about as far from all right as a person could get. But she nodded. And I nodded back.
Infusing as much calm into my tone as I could manage, I said, “We need to get out of the rain.” Her eyes widened, and she shook her head, sending a torrent of tears sliding over my fingers. “Listen to me.” I stroked her cheek with my thumb, and she stilled. “How about we sit in my car for a minute. Would that be okay?”
The tension in her jaw eased, and she found her voice. “Just for a minute.”
Once I got her settled in the passenger seat, I crouched so we were eye level. Swept away by the torment churning in her amber gaze, I barely felt the rain that continued to lash at my skin.
“It wasn’t supposed to rain,” she said softly.
And I wasn’t sure if she meant today or if she was locked in the past.
I tucked a wet lock behind her ear. “Sometimes things don’t happen according to plan.”
She nodded, a little color returning to her cheeks. Embarrassment replaced the desolation in her eyes, and I knew she was a moment away from shutting me out. Before she did, I needed a plan. An option that didn’t include Tori on that tour bus.
“I’m going to grab a couple of towels,” I said as I hauled to my feet. “Be right back.”
Through the curtain of rain, I spotted Cameron eyeing me from the window as I trudged toward the silver beast. He met me at the door.
“What’s going on?” he asked, following me to my bunk.
I slid the strap on my duffel over my shoulder. “The bus is too fucking crowded. I’m going to drive.”
“Drive?” Confusion laced his tone. “What about Tori?”
After grabbing my guitar case and Tori’s rollaway from the opposite bunk, I finally looked Cameron in the eyes. “The princess isn’t letting me out of her sight. She already parked her ass in my car.”
I didn’t lie to my boys. Not usually. But what else could I do? Tori was only on this little adventure because of me. I owed her this bit of solace. Of privacy.
I patted Cameron on the back as I scooted past him. “Explain it to the guys. I’ll see y’all in Oklahoma.”
11
Shivering, I rubbed my arms. But it didn’t help. The chill came from within, bred from my own defeat.
In the end, I couldn’t go through with it. Not to save my business. Or preserve Rhenn and Paige’s legacy. I’d have to leave the heavy lifting to Taryn. Again.
She’d offered to take my place on the tour, even if it meant leaving Chase for three months. But I’d refused, claiming that I didn’t need anyone’s help. I guess I was wrong.
As I pulled out my phone to tap a message to my best friend, shame settled over me as thick as the soot and ash that I could still taste on my tongue.
You were right.
Thumb hovering over the send button, I stared at the three little words. My white flag of surrender. The final nail in the imaginary coffin that kept me from moving forward.
The trunk slammed, pulling me from my thoughts, and I set the phone aside.
A second later, the driver’s door opened with a creak, and Logan leaned in, water dripping from his chin. “Watch your head, princess.”
I ducked in time to avoid getting beaned when he swung my rollaway over the seat. Sliding behind the wheel, he tossed a Caged T-shirt into my lap.
Confused and still a little dazed, I brushed my fingers over the lion’s head logo. “What’s this for?”
“Thought you might want to change out of your wet clothes.” He finished adjusting the mirror, then looked over at me, his gaze falling to my chest. A slow smile quirked his lips. “On second thought …”
I glanced down at the white blouse plastered to my skin, my sheer bra and erect nipples clearly visible through the sheer fabric.
My arms flew up to cover myself. “I’m wet.” Logan’s smile grew, and I felt the blush detonate on my cheeks. “I mean … I’m cold.”
He arched a brow as he fired up the engine. “If you say so.”
As he slid the column shifter into drive, my hand darted out to grab his arm. I didn’t need Logan to drop me off at Twin Souls like I was a defective product he was returning for an exchange. “I can get my own ride.”
He turned to me, and I felt his gaze like fingers on my skin. A light shining on all the cracks. The hidden seams, smoothed by time, but still present.
“Is it the rain or the bus that scares you?” he finally asked.
I lifted my chin, ready to tell him that he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. That I wasn’t afraid. But then I recalled him standing in the rain cupping my cheeks as he tried to coax me back from my nightmare with only his words.
“You’re all right.”
There was no use hiding now. He’d seen it all.
Tracing a groove in the upholstery, I slid my fingernail along the stitching. “It’s not the rain.” The weight of Logan’s stare forced my gaze to my lap. “I mean, it’s not just the rain.”
Unspoken questions swirled between us like the winds of the storm outside. But instead of asking anything more, he just nodded. “Buckle up.”
Logan’s tone held none of the sarcasm I’d come to expect. And that was almost worse. I didn’t need or want his pity.
After my seat belt was secured, he pulled out of the space with greater care than I would’ve expected. Being that I was a nervous passenger, I was grateful for that small favor, even if he wasn’t aware he was doing it.
As he turned onto the side streets, heading north toward Sixth, I pulled my phone out. My unsent message to Taryn waited in the box, but I didn’t have the will to send it. Screw it. We were ten minutes from the office. I’d explain when I got there.
Letting my head fall back, I closed my eyes, lulled by the hum of the powerful engine and the rain on the windshield. Moments later when the car surged forward, I jolted, swinging my gaze to Logan. “Why are we getting on the freeway?”
His eyes found mine for only a second before returning to the road. “How else you planning on getting to Oklahoma, princess?”
12
I hadn’t thought this through. Not even a little bit. Shoot first, ask questions later. That was always my jam. Only this time, I was the one who took the bullet. Because here I sat, stuck in a car with a woman who, up until a couple of hours ago, couldn’t stand the sight of me. Not that anything had changed in that regard.
Except that it had.
Something shifted the minute Tori let me behind her walls. It wasn’t just the grief and desperation peering from the corners that struck a chord, but her mad strength and resolve. And also my guilt for putting her in this situation, even if she should’ve known better.
I couldn’t just abandon her.
Only now, my decision seemed less heroic and more like the act of an impulsive teenager. Tori had a million people waiting in the wings to help her if that’s what she wanted. She didn’t need me.
Leaning on the gas, I put more distance between us and the raging storm. By the time we reached the northern tip of Williamson county, the clouds were a black smudge in my rearview mirror.
With nothing but blue skies and open road ahead, I eased off the accelerator and chanced a peek at my passenger.
Tori gazed out the side window, nervous fingers working the fabric of the Caged T-shirt balled in her lap. The sun poured in from all sides, kissing her pale skin and the raven hair that fell in soft ribbons around her shoulders. There was no denying her beauty, but this messier version was far more alluring.
When her phone buzzed for the umpteenth time, I shoved my dirty thoughts back in the box.
After a brief look at the screen, Tori discreetly hit ignore and returned her attention to the scenery. Her frown told me I wasn’t the only one with buyer’s remorse. Thankfully, we were less than a couple of hours into our misadventure. Nothing we couldn’t unwind.
I roughed a hand through my hair. “Listen, Tori—” A small gasp tumbled from her lips, and I whipped my head in her direction. “What?”
She blinked at me with wide, honey colored eyes. “The Little Czech Bakery. Can we stop?”
Her face glowed with excitement. Over kolaches. If I’d’ve known that puffed pastry filled with jam or sausage was the way to break through her rock-hard exterior, I would’ve brought a box to every meeting.
“Sure thing, princess.”
She bounced in her seat when I slid the car into the right lane to exit. But her enthusiasm waned as soon as she got a good look at the parking lot. Packed didn’t begin to describe it. Every traveler making the trek between Houston and Dallas/Ft. Worth was here. Or so it seemed.
“Maybe we shouldn’t,” she said, sinking back against the upholstery.
That was a given. The glorified truck stop, with its wall-to-wall people, was a recipe for disaster.
Ignoring the warning bells in my head, I pulled into a parking space as far away from the other cars as I could get.
“It’s all good,” I said, not really sure if it were true. Grabbing a Longhorns baseball cap from under the seat, I tossed it in her lap. “Put that on.”
Running a finger over the frayed orange fabric stretching across the bill, she eyed me speculatively. “What about you?”
On any other day, I’d probably be the biggest celebrity in the joint. But the woman at my side had me beat hands down in the fame department. I was a star. But Tori was rock royalty.
I pushed the car door open with a chuckle. “I’ll take my chances.”
“Wait!” She caught my arm. “I’ve got something in my suitcase.”
Yanking off her seat belt, she scampered onto her knees and then
leaned into the back seat. Her blouse rode up, revealing the ink above the waistband of her jeans. I’d glimpsed the tattoo before, a large piece that took up most of her back. But I’d never had the urge to trace the lines with my fingers.
She wiggled her ass as she rooted around in her bag. Unintentional. But my dick didn’t get the memo. And now I had a semi. Fucking perfect.
Shifting my attention to anything but that swath of skin, I muttered, “We don’t have all day.”
She plopped back into her seat, a TCU baseball cap in hand.
I wrinkled my nose. “Are you kidding me?”
Her tongue darted out as she secured her soft waves in the rubber band she’d pulled from her wrist. “Don’t look at me like that, Cage,” she warned as she yanked her ponytail through the hole in the back of the purple hat. “I’m probably a bigger Longhorn fan than you are. Which makes this an even more effective disguise.” Propping her oversized sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, she smiled. “Don’t you think?”
“It’s fuckin’ ugly is what it is.” But she looked damn cute wearing it. Shoving the orange cap on my head, I slid out from behind the wheel. “Let’s get this over with.”
She joined me in front of the store, a pair of shorts and the Caged T-shirt clutched to her chest.
“What?” she asked, peering up at me.
“I never took you for the kind of girl who changes in public restrooms.”
A laugh spilled from her lips. “Our first tour bus,” she shook her head, smiling, “the bathroom had the most God awful smell. Nobody would use it unless they absolutely had to. I spent six months finding the cleanest restrooms in the country so I could dress without gagging.”
A bell rang when I pulled the door open to the shop. “That’s nothing. Our first bus was about a hundred years old, and the tour lasted a year.”
Tori ducked under my arm, then smirked at me over her shoulder. “Ours was eighteen months. But six months in, our album went platinum and Taryn negotiated a better bus.” Smug, she batted her eyelashes. But then someone strolled by munching on a berry and cheese kolache. “Oh my God, I want that. And a couple sausage and jalapeño too. And …”