by Fiona Cole
“Ms. Hearst, we can’t leave them,” he explained calmly.
“Then I’ll get a fucking Uber,” I growled, preparing to face the guys after I tried to run.
“No,” the female guard driving stopped me. “Graham and Vince, you two ride with the guys, and I’ll take Ms. Hearst back.”
I met her understanding eyes in the mirror, and she nodded. The two guards hopped out, and thankfully, Parker didn’t push in. We watched them talk in a circle with big hand gestures and scowling faces before piling back in the car.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“They’re great guys, but sometimes, you just need some space,” she said in understanding. Thankfully, she stayed quiet the rest of the drive and ignored any sniffles that slipped free from the back.
Taking deep breaths, I wiped at my damp cheeks and pulled myself together as we rounded the corner to the bus. I considered asking her to take me to a hotel for the night but knew we had to work on the music in the morning before they got ready for the show.
Fuck. I could only imagine how well that would go. Wincing at the thought of sitting with them to write some ballad, I fought to keep from banging my head on the window. What the hell was I thinking taking this job? I’d been naive, thinking we could just move on without anything from the past coming back to haunt us. I’d only been successful over the years at avoiding it because of therapy and my complete lack of surrounding myself with anyone who knew what had happened. But working with them was like jumping into the thick of it and keeping my eyes closed, trying not to bump into anything—and asking them to do the same.
Wanting to get on the bus before them, I considered my options. For now, I’d hide away in the back. It was the only place with something more than a curtain to separate me from them. Maybe tomorrow, I’d think more clearly. Maybe I could leave and just demand they work with me virtually, or I could send them songs to do with whatever they wanted. Anything sounded better than sitting around and trying to create magic.
I didn’t bother washing my face—just grabbed my bag and a change of clothes and darted to the back. I’d been in there all of five minutes before the slam of car doors announced their arrival. Their deep voices murmured, and I clung to one of the square pillows to release some of the adrenaline pulling my muscles tighter and tighter.
“Did she leave?”
“Swear to God, if she ran.”
Parker. I remembered his message from New Years and how he accused me of always running. And maybe I did, but I never ran from a good thing.
More doors slammed until the one to the bus opened and closed. Footsteps moved down the hall, and I held my breath, almost jumping out of my skin when the handle jiggled before a knock.
“Nova?” Parker called.
But I didn’t answer. It was obvious I was here, but I didn’t have anything to say.
“Nova, can you come out?” Pause. “I want to talk about what happened.” Another pause. “Please.”
“No.” The last thing I wanted to do was talk about it. I never wanted to talk about it. I never wanted to think about it, and talking about it required thinking about it.
“Nova, come on. Open the door,” he said with less patience than before.
“No.”
A rumbling growl let me know he’d reached the end of his rope. “We’re done avoiding this. It’s been a tense month, and hiding doesn’t help anyone. We have an album to write, and we’re not flowing like we usually do. You do not get to run. Not this time.”
I don’t get to run? Not this time?
The words burrowed into my chest, twisting and burning, scraping past old wounds, opening them back up. It tugged off the sheets hiding the emotions I left hidden in the corner—the hurt, the anger, the resentment.
I didn’t get to run?
How dare he.
Tossing the pillow aside, I shot from the couch and yanked the door open to an angry storm over an ocean, looking back at me. I fumed, meeting his glare.
I didn’t get to run?
I stepped close, but Parker didn’t back down. “You. Left. Me,” I growled.
“You all left me. You convinced me it would be okay—that it would all be fine. And I believed you.” My body vibrated with the words. Like the effort to hide them from even myself had been so great that now that it was set free, it couldn’t handle the strain anymore. “You promised. And then you left.”
I hated the way my voice cracked. I hated the small hallway with Parker crowding me. I couldn’t stand it, and I needed more air. I needed more space. It was too much, and I needed out. I stomped past and made it just past the kitchen when a strong hand gripped my arm. I whirled around and slipped into the self-defense training I’d had to take for years to feel stronger. I twisted my wrist, stepped in, and pulled my hand toward me, thrusting my elbow up and breaking his hold. But I didn’t back away.
Parker stared with wide eyes, holding his wrist.
“Nova…”
“And then you left again. Except this time, you didn’t come back.”
“We did come back,” he defended.
“Not when you promised,” I almost shouted.
“You told us to go. I offered to wait, and you still told me to go,” he shouted back.
“I didn’t mean go forever.”
His shoulders dropped, and he lowered his voice, almost pleading. “We tried, okay?”
“Yeah, well, trying wasn’t enough—not the second time around. And I wasn’t okay enough to wait for a third time,” I admitted, hating when the first tear finally broke free, quickly followed by another. “I was hanging on by a thread.”
He paced to the end of the bus before turning around and pushing both hands through his hair, tugging on the ends.
The confession rocked him, and I was too tired to care how vulnerable I was making myself by admitting it all. The last time I saw them before they left, I’d been a shell, unsure of everything, unsure of what I’d look like a week from then. So, I’d told them it was okay. I told them to go. I hadn’t been prepared for them to not come back.
Admitting it all rocked me too, and my muscles ached with the effort it took to stand. Stumbling back, I fell back on the couch.
“We were selfish, okay?” Parker finally barked, like the admission barely snapped free. “We were selfish dumb teenagers, all running from something. At least, they were running.” He winced and ran his hand over his jaw. “And I just…I felt so much pressure to fucking make it. This was our chance, and I took advantage of how much you supported me. They looked to me to make the final decision—I was the only one that had someone to go back to—and I fucked up. I had my mom messaging me, and the managers pushing for more shows, and the guys happy, and I just…I…I didn’t know what to do. I was selfish.”
I hated that I understood. I hated that it hurt me to see the hurt in him. I hated that I never took the time to think about what it cost him to make those decisions.
Because I’d been a selfish teen too.
But my selfishness never hurt anyone else.
I squeezed my eyes shut, chewing my lip, trying to figure out the back and forth knot twisting inside me. The bus sat silent, and I didn’t know what to say when he admitted he was wrong.
“And you never gave me a chance to fix it,” he said, some of his frustration slipping back in. “I’ve lived with it every day and never got a chance to make it right. I always wondered what the hell happened or if you were okay. Not that I’m trying to compare my guilt to what you went through, but you were my family, and maybe…” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “And maybe that was too much for me to understand as a selfish asshole. I let you down so much, and I didn’t know how to fix it, and maybe I used it as an excuse to stay away, but once I did figure it out, you were gone.”
“Yeah,” I choked out, trying to wipe away the tears that wouldn’t stop. “I didn’t know how to handle it either. And no one around me knew. I was alone. I was alone with everything, and I didn’t know
what to do.” I hated how I talked in circles, but it all fumbled out in a mess of words.
“I’m sorry,” Parker whispered. He paced back in front of me and held his hands out in supplication. “I’m sorry for it all. I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry I was a selfish kid who didn’t know a lie when I saw one. I should have called you on telling us to leave. I should have called bullshit and stayed by your side. I shouldn’t have left.” He dropped to his haunches and looked up at me with watery eyes. “Not a day goes by, I don’t think of it. Not a moment I don’t think about what happened to you when you were taken—”
“Don’t,” I cut in. It’s one thing to talk around it, but I never talked about it because there was nothing I could do but satisfy someone’s morbid curiosity. “It’s done.”
I sat there, slouched and exhausted from releasing the tension I held back in hopes that if I didn’t acknowledge it, it wouldn’t exist.
Parker slowly reached his hands for mine, and I let him. “I’d never been so scared. I’d never felt so incompetent. I couldn’t help but think you were better off without me because I couldn’t keep you safe like I promised. So, maybe I ran first.”
“I never wanted to be without you,” I whispered. “I loved you.”
“I loved you too, which was why I thought I was doing the right thing.”
I squeezed his hands tighter in mine because there wasn’t anything left to say. We’d both made mistakes. We both fucked up. We’d both been a little selfish and doing the best we could with the nightmares that weighed on us.
I just didn’t know what to do now. We sat in silence, the bus like a battlefield littered with our argument, unsure of how to clean up and make the next step forward.
But like finding a gem amongst the rubble, Oren called through the cracked door from outside, lighting the way.
“Well, just to clarify,” he announced. “I loved you too.”
I jerked toward the door to watch it open, and the guys piled in with hesitance and somber faces. They must have waited outside.
Ash rested his hand on my shoulder. “We’re sorry. We’re all sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” I said. No matter how small a part I played in this, I needed to accept that I’d done damage too.
“How can we make it up to you?” Brogan asked.
I looked to each of them. “Just be here now.”
“We can do that,” Parker confirmed.
“And let me have the cushy bunk,” I added, barely holding back a watery laugh.
“Aww, c’mon,” Brogan groaned. “I’m the biggest one here, and it’s the only one with the extra length.”
Getting my smile under control, I fought for a blank stare and shrugged.
“Fine,” he reluctantly agreed. “But only for you.”
“Awww,” Oren cooed, standing. He stepped over and pulled me into a hug. Each of the guys followed suit until we stood in the middle of the bus, holding on to each other. And I had to admit, it was the safest I’d felt in a long time.
I was home.
“Anyone want to play spin the bottle?” Oren asked.
“Yeah, but this time it’s truth or touch my boobies,” Ash said, wagging his brows.
I shoved my way free, laughing. “You guys are the worst.”
“By worst, you actually mean best, right?” Ash asked.
“Maybe,” I conceded.
“Yes,” Oren shouted, throwing his hands up in victory.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m tired as fuck,” Parker said.
We all agreed and headed toward the back.
“Brogan, you can keep your bunk. I just wanted to see you sweat. It was reward enough.”
“Cruel woman,” he grumbled.
That night, Parker didn’t bother waiting for everyone to fall asleep before he crawled up into my bunk. And I didn’t bother to hide how I tucked myself against him and curled up perfectly in his arms to fall asleep.
I told him I loved him then, but safe in his embrace, I wasn’t sure I ever stopped.
Nineteen
Nova
P A S T
“Please, please, please, please.” Oren bounced from foot to foot with his hands clasped together, his puppy dog eyes fully in place.
The other guys stood around waiting for my answer expectantly.
“I’m not even supposed to be in here. If they find out I’m seventeen—”
“Psh,” Ash cut in. “Bear knows how old you are and doesn’t give a shit.”
Oren went back to the annoying begging. “Please, Nova. Please, please, please.”
I looked to Parker for help. “We need the edge,” he explained instead of helping. “The other bands are good, but if we had a girl singer with us, we’d leave no room to beat us.”
“I never should have come to this battle of the bands,” I muttered. Singing at a karaoke bar was one thing, but in front of their fans and judges with a real prize on the line added an expectation I didn’t know if I could handle.
“Your voice is epic, and no one else has a girl singer,” Ash said.
“And you know all the songs. You’ve sung them a million times at practice,” Brogan added.
“Yeah, but these songs aren’t duets. How the hell do you expect me to work around that?” I asked.
“Uhhh…I guess it’s a good thing you and Parker screw around all the time making them into duets,” Ash explained like I was dumb.
“That was only a couple of times,” I grumbled.
“Enough for us. Besides, you guys have a freaky-deaky connection thing going on,” Brogan said. “Probably that brother-sister bond.”
Ash snorted, and I cringed.
“We are not brother and sister,” Parker growled.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I said, mostly to myself.
Parker turned to me, sucking all the oxygen from our space when he slid his hands against my cheeks and tilted my face up to his. The world faded just like it always did with him. All I saw were his deep blue eyes. I held on to his wrists, finding comfort in our connection—in the soft skin on the inside of his wrists, where I found the soothing beat of his pulse.
“Nova,” he whispered just for me. “You can do this. We can do this. I’m right there with you.”
We may not have repeated that night—agreeing to not push the limits, but there was no denying the relationship between us. I didn’t know much about intimacy, but the moments between Parker and me left me bare—stripped to nothing but me. I couldn’t fathom anything more honest or close.
He made me better—brave. Hence, why when I would shy away, all he had to do was hold out his hand, and I trusted him enough to step into his light.
Just like I would now.
“Okay,” I agreed with a nod.
His smile lit up my world, and it took all I had to remain rooted to the ground and not press up, closing the gap to latch on to his beautiful mouth. Not a day went by that I didn’t remember how perfect they’d tasted.
The guys whooped and high-fived.
I bounced around and shook out my limbs, waiting for them to call our name. I went out back and warmed up my voice. I’d never had professional training, but I knew my body well enough to know that first note was always hard to hit with cold vocal cords.
But all my nerves were for nothing. When I got on that stage, thirty seconds into the first song, the crowd faded. First, I lost myself to Parker, meeting his gaze during the first chorus as we locked into the perfect harmony.
Then, as we moved through the set, I lost myself to the music like I did with my art. I relaxed and danced to the beat Oren kept on the drums, played air guitar with my back pressed to Brogan. Jumped around with Ash and Parker during their most upbeat song. It was like any other practice of goofing around and having the best time.
I loved it. And I wouldn’t have had it without Parker pushing me.
When the set ended, I bounced off the stage and was hoisted up into Oren’s arms, and twirled aroun
d.
As soon as he put me down, another set of arms wrapped around me from behind. “Kickass, Supernova,” Ash whispered in my ear.
Brogan mussed my hair with his giant palm like I was a dog who did a good job. I was sure my cheeks would crack from so much smiling, and when Brogan shifted out of the way, there stood Parker, watching with pride and awe—for me. Knowing I put that look of wonder on his face had me flying even higher. I patted Ash’s arm, and he let me free so I could run into Parker’s arms.
When I leaped, he caught me. I wrapped my legs around his waist and squeezed for all I was worth.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I whispered.
He smiled into my neck, and we held on for dear life like we were trying to meld our energy into one. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You know when to push me.”
“It’s okay to be in the spotlight, Nova. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
Almost desperate to place my lips on his, I somehow managed to divert and smack a giant kiss to his cheek.
“Hey, where’s mine,” Oren whined.
I blew him a kiss, and he caught it, rubbing his palm between his legs. “Gross,” I said, pretending to gag.
As much as I didn’t want to, I relaxed my grip to get down. What proceeded was the most erotic slide down his body, my mouth inches from his, my breasts scraping along every dip and curve of his chest, and I swore I could feel a slight bulge grazing my core and abdomen.
I whimpered when my feet finally touched the ground, not wanting to part.
“Haunted Obsession,” someone called.
We parted and turned to find a tall, broad man strolling toward us. I almost had to do a double-take because while I’d never met Brogan’s dad, this man looked like he could be Brogan’s dad. But darker. An older, darker Viking built the same way as Brogan.
“Hey, I’m Grant Sommers from GS Productions. I was one of the judges and just wanted to come say how amazing I thought you guys were.”
“Thanks, Grant. We appreciate it,” Parker said, shaking his hand.
They all introduced themselves, and I lingered back, letting them have their moment. Except when he looked past the guys to me. “I didn’t know you had a female singer, too.”