Alice dropped her arms and cupped my cheek. “The woman you were always wishing you were with when you were with me.”
“I—”
There was no pain in her eyes. Sadness at the hint of what could’ve been, but not pain. “You don’t have to say anything. I only want you to be happy. You tried so hard to give me all the things I wanted, but you need to make room for the things you want and deserve too.”
My throat tightened, closing so speaking was impossible.
She stared at me with those clear blue eyes filled with caring and concern. Gently tilting my head, she pressed her lips against my cheek and hugged me. The wool of her coat scratched against my chin.
I wrapped my arms tightly around her back. I’d pinned so many hopes on our relationship, and now I’d seen how unfair it had been to her. She hadn’t deserved to be my proving grounds for whether or not I was capable of change, but she hadn’t come in here ready to punch me in the jaw, even after I’d called off our engagement. “Thank you, Alice.”
“No, thank you. Without you, Mac and I wouldn’t have met. I think that makes us even.” There was a sheen in her eyes, but her smile was blinding.
I cleared my throat, truly happy for her. I’d had that feeling once—twice—but it hadn’t been enough. I hoped it was for her. “When’s the wedding?”
She shoved her gloves into her pocket. “At the end of the season.”
“Do I get an invite?”
Her shoes scuffed on the floor. “If you want one, of course.”
We said our goodbyes with another hug, and then I was back in my quiet apartment, all alone. For a long time the quiet had been a comfort, a refuge. It had meant the certainty that danger wasn’t lurking around the corner, ready to breathe fire and leave me a charred mess.
I’d been that dragon for a while. When I’d sat in the empty training camp apartment that I’d trashed, with Bay’s guitar gripped in my hand, I’d realized what I’d become. I’d realized it, but couldn’t do anything to stop it. The spiral had continued for longer than it should have.
The looming Without Grey concert was dredging up all those old memories. My apartment didn’t feel like a refuge—more like a hideout or a place where I’d been banished.
After living with the guys during college, with Knox after we went pro, and then moving in with Alice, an empty house no longer put me at ease. It was a reminder of everything I’d lost.
Now it felt hollow.
3
Bay
The lighting swept across the stage.
Without Grey launched into the second song before the end of their show.
Holden stepped in front of me, trying to hold my gaze through the sea of people on my team and rushing around backstage.
“Two songs tonight. The first will be Back Steps, the second will be selected from this list by a charity auction winner.”
A hand reached down the back of my dress. Most people weren’t used to hands being shoved into their clothes behind a dark stage, but after all this time, it barely registered on my odd radar. Hands were in my hair and someone touched up my makeup. I lifted a foot and straps were fastened around my ankles. I hated these shoes.
An in-ear monitor was put in place. I adjusted it, pressing it in further. The music from the instruments on stage flowed through the earpiece without any delay or crowd noise. I closed my eyes and took a breath. A calm flowed over me—until I was ripped out of it by a sharp stab in my side.
I sucked in a sharp breath, but contained my yelp.
“Sorry, one of your sequins came undone.” Emily clenched two needles and thread in her hand.
I closed my eyes again, trying to center myself.
“Bay, can you open your eyes? I need you to look up, so I can finish your eyes.”
I let out a sharp breath and did as I was told.
“Once the encore is finished, they’re asking for pictures with the charity winner. You can say no, it’s not part of the package, but I want to know what I should say if they ask.” Holden stood beside me with the glow of the tablet lighting up his face.
“What’s the charity?”
The final brush strokes, hair fluffs and dress fixes were finished and I wasn’t being touched for the first time in what felt like hours. Being the center of attention wasn’t always what it was cracked up to be.
He checked his tablet. “It’s a charity focusing on children in domestic abuse situations. They donated over—”
“Of course. How much time will the schedule allow for tonight?”
“This is the last event for tonight, but we have the photoshoot at nine a.m. tomorrow, which means you need breakfast by five to get in your workout and then to hair and makeup.”
“Can’t we go for a just-rolled-out-of-bed look? That’s in, right?” Having so many people around me felt claustrophobic, not to mention being sewn into clothes or pinched by giant metal clothes clips for the perfect fit. Sometimes I just wanted to wear sweat pants, finger comb my hair, and eat Cheetos for a whole damn week and not hear a word about it from anyone. The closest I got was the two days my period arrived and I felt like my internal organs were being ripped out, but on concert nights I had to chuck the hot water bottle by four p.m. and tough it out on stage.
“You’re hilarious.” His reply was deadpanned and flat.
I laughed. “The only thing making it tolerable is knowing you have to be up even earlier than me to get me there on time.”
He grumbled under his breath.
I cupped my hand around my ear, nearly knocking tonight’s makeup artist in the face. “Sorry, I didn’t hear that.”
He cleared his throat and leaned in closer. “I said you don’t pay me enough.”
“You weren’t complaining when you were sipping that champagne someone sent to me last night.”
“Keeping me tipsy is one way to keep me happy.” He shrugged and scribbled across the tablet with his stylus.
My feet throbbed. My little toe screamed at me about the beautiful red-soled shoes covered in glittering crystals that made me at least six inches taller. Even I could admit that they looked stellar.
“Are you good today?” Holden eyed me. They all did.
“I’m fine. I feel good. It’s not even my show. Two songs.” I lifted one knee then the other, psyching myself up. They weren’t here to see me. They were here to see Without Grey. Half an hour and I’d be back in the car, then back to my hotel where I could sleep.
On stage, the sweeps of the lights and strobes ended on the last note as all the guys jumped as one.
Camden took the water bottle and towel handed to him by a roadie who rushed out onto stage. He stuck the mic back into the mic stand and gulped down the water. He dragged the towel down his face and around the back of his neck.
During my shows, I literally had to stand in front of an industrial fan in the wings between song breaks. If I touched my face, I’d look like a demented clown from outer space.
“Testing. Can you hear everything okay?” A disembodied voice spoke through my ear piece.
My stomach did cartwheels into backflips. My fingers went numb. One of the roadies shoved a mic into my hand.