The Rocker's Muse

Reality came crashing down. My throat felt parched as I swallowed. “I don’t like this feeling.” Not sure I meant to say that aloud.

His brows drew in. “What feeling?”

“The after. It was amazing in the moment. But the after? The after will kill me. I’ll be thinking of what we did all night tonight.”

He pulled me toward him. “Then ride on my bus with me, so neither of us has to be alone thinking about it.”

My eyes widened. “Are you crazy? How are we supposed to get away with that?”

“I’ll make up an excuse as to why I need you there, if you want. But fuck what they think. I want you with me.”

“You’re gonna make up an excuse as to why you need me in your bedroom?” I laughed. “And what gullible people are going to buy said excuse?”

“I don’t really give a fuck if they do or don’t.”

“Well, I do,” I insisted.

He wrapped his hand around my hip. “The entire time here with you, I’ve barely thought about my voice. When I’m with you, I forget everything else and just enjoy being in the present. All I want to do is talk to you, look into your eyes, and now…kiss you and touch you. Bring you to orgasm. There’s nothing else I care about at the moment.”

I smiled sadly. “Becoming dependent on someone to forget about your problems isn’t healthy.”

“That’s not why I want to be around you. Forgetting the bad shit is a result of being happy and present.”

“I won’t be around forever, Tristan. And I shouldn’t get close to you like this.”

“Says who?”

Of course, he didn’t understand why I’d messed up so terribly in crossing the line with him. There was a lot he didn’t understand about me. But rather than explain further, I looked over at the time. “We’re gonna be late. We have to get back to the bus.”

Tristan reluctantly got out of bed. He looked concerned as he watched me gathering my things.

“Hey.” He placed his hands on my shoulders. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” My stomach felt unsettled. Surely he could tell I was lying.

But even I couldn’t pinpoint, nor articulate, what exactly was bothering me. It was so many things. The fact that I hadn’t been honest with him. The fact that I wanted nothing more than to stay in this cocoon with him forever. The fact that seeing all those women throw themselves at him would be a lot harder now that my heart was involved. The fact that I might’ve had sex with him if he hadn’t been so in control of the situation today. The list was endless. This was not at all where I was supposed to end up when this tour began.

As Tristan and I waited for our ride outside my mother’s house, he rested his chin on the top of my head and wrapped his arms around me. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to be held by him, allowed myself to feel safe and cared for during this last moment of peace away from the tour.

Because I knew in my heart that everything had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

CHAPTER 17

TRISTAN

After we returned to the tour, Emily went to her bus, and I went to mine to face the fire of my bandmates.

“So, like, what does this mean?” our interim keyboardist, Melvin, asked. “You’re not getting the surgery, so it’s just gonna keep getting worse?”

“Not necessarily. I’m trying to manage it—resting my voice when I don’t have to use it. So all this talking right now isn’t really helping me.”

“Why not just get the damn surgery?” Atticus challenged.

I didn’t want to admit I was scared. But that was the truth. “There are risks to that, and I need to do more research. I’m seeing my doctor when I get to L.A.”

Atticus shook his head. “I don’t understand why you haven’t talked to me about this before.”

“He talked to me,” Ronan added.