Chapter Fifty-Six
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
GEMMA
Bringing Bonnie home started out with my stomach in whole knots that I couldn’t shake. The entire drive, I feared she would walk into that new space, realize she’d made a horrible mistake, and run.
I could not have been more wrong.
Liam drove Andi and Wren back early this morning so they could finish decorating and prepping the place while the band brainstormed for the RagnaRock gig.
It’s after dark when we eventually arrive at the new building. I park the motorcycle in the parking garage, and when Bonnie and I get off, she hesitates outside the sliding doors.
“Okay?” I ask her.
She fumbles with her fingers. “It’s just that… what if this place doesn’t feel like the old one? Like what if I forget? What happens if I walk into this space, and I forget everything the walls at the old place reminded me of?”
I step in front of her and take her hands. “Then we help you remember,” I tell her. “That’s one more reason why you’re here. With your friends. So, you can call on anyone you need, at any time. I’ll drive Zeb’s ass here myself if you want him.”
She scoffs. “And you’ll be here?”
“Yeah.” I take her bag from her arm and huff it over my shoulder, then take her hand to lead her inside. “I can even stand at the end of the bed and watch you sleep if that’ll make you feel more at home.”
Bonnie snorts. “You know what? It might, actually. That’ll give me some normalcy.”
I grin back at her before hitting the elevator up button. “Done.”
The elevator doors open then, and we step inside. I have to use my card to get to her floor, and I hand Bonnie her own keycard when I pull it out.
“God, I wonder what Andi and Wren have done with decorating,” she says, and the nervousness in her voice is apparent. “Hopefully if Wren put plants in there, they’re ones I don’t have to do much with.”
“She likes plants?” I ask.
“She’s obsessed with plants. One of her long-term fixations,” Bonnie explains.
We reach her floor. The elevator doors open to a foyer that makes me immediately grin at how very Bonnie the room is. Purple walls, gold accents, classic artwork that looks like it’s been graffitied framed on the walls.
“Oh my god, I love those two,” Bonnie says, beaming.
I hold out my hand with her key, and as Bonnie takes it, she inhales a deep breath.
“New beginnings, right?” she says, peering back at me.
“Just another chapter,” I say with a shrug.
The moment she unlocks the door and twists the knob, a glitter and confetti cannon goes off.
Bonnie yelps and jumps back, though not before balloons begin falling from the ceiling. An absolute cackle leaves her as we both drown beneath all of the surprise party decorations.
And before we can catch our breath, the elevator opens up with the rest of her family.
I take a step back and settle into the kitchen as Zeb brings in a load of groceries, and as I put them away, all I can do is watch in awe as they give her the tour.
My happy rockstar.
Three weeks are a blur.
Three weeks of sneaking kisses from her between meetings, rehearsals, and recordings. Three weeks of coming home to Bonnie at night and not having to sit in the chair to watch her sleep, of holding her at night and talking to her about life, music, conspiracy theories, and whatever movie she has to have on to help her sleep. Three weeks of seeing her have both highs and devastating lows, and fucking loving that I get to be there to help her out of it while also knowing when to step back if she needs her friends over me.
My ego isn’t so fragile that I’d ever get upset about that. I’m not the only person in her life who’s seen her at the bottom. I’m not the person she’s looked to for comfort in the past. She has her friends, and I’m okay with being the one simply holding her hand if that’s what she needs.
I feel like the absolute luckiest person alive, not just for the fact that I get to kiss and touch Bonnie fucking Miller anytime I want, but also that I get to witness the absolute magical insanity that Young Decay is made of.
I’ve never seen a band work their asses off so hard and be so damn happy about it.
But that’s Young Decay.
I didn’t know life could feel this free or have this much joy. Every morning, I wake up feeling as if I’m no longer pretending. And every night when I go to sleep, Bonnie is in my arms. With so much going on, neither of us have had much time to think about that last phone call. It isn’t the only time Rad has called either. Still, we’ve let it ring instead of answering.
I’m done giving Rad the attention he thinks he deserves, and it might backfire like hell, but I’m ready for it. She’s ready for it. Together, with this little family, nothing can touch us. I’ll get her the revenge she craves, the revenge that’s rightfully hers. First, though, I’m focusing on her happiness. I’m focused on getting this band through each day, on getting her from sun up to sun down without thinking of a drink or becoming fearful that this won’t last.
And I’m convincing myself every single day that she actually wants to be with me.
She wants me, no matter what.
Because she still hasn’t run.
She’s so much more herself in the new place, and I can’t discern if that’s because she’s near her friends, if she isn’t looking over her shoulder, or if it’s something else.
I’m fighting like hell not to jinx it.
The sun is rising to the right of the RagnaRock stage.
I knock on Bonnie’s trailer door to take her to soundcheck. I’ve already been up two hours—a run, check-in with Rock and the venue security. I left Bonnie very sleepily sitting up in the bed, hair matted to her head, a cup of coffee in one hand.
“Bon? You ready, rockstar?” I call out.
She opens the trailer door, and I trip off the bottom step at the sight of her.
Jesus fucking hell.
I think I died standing at the bottom of these steps.
No, I know I’ve died.
I know I’ve died because there’s no way she’s walking out of that trailer dressed like this—like this and not in her usual sweatpants or cropped hoodie like she normally wears to soundcheck.
Shit, is she planning on going onstage like this later?
She’s wearing a tauntingly short, frilly little black sundress with daisies on it, wide fishnet tights, and her clunky, knee-high combat boots. I barely even notice her accessories for the way the dress shows off her tattoos and petite figure.
I thought those other outfits would be the death of me, then she had to go and put on a goddamn sundress.
I think my knees might be touching the grass.
Wait, no that’s just my fingers as I’ve squatted down, legs too weak to stand upright.
“Jesus, fuck, Bonnie,” I say, swiping my face.
She huffs. “What? You don’t like this?” she asks, innocently picking up the hem like she has no idea how devastatingly hot she is right now.
“I…” I blink as she comes down those steps, attempting to swallow. “I need you to change,” I tell her. “This dress is a security risk. I’ll end up fighting someone.”
A smile slips onto her lips. “That argument is not selling me on changing,” she says.
I scoff. “Yeah? You want to see me throat-punch someone for staring at your ass too hard at some point today?”
She reaches me, and I still haven’t found the strength to stand. Her fingers drag through my hair, and I lean into her, unable to resist my teeth dragging against her thigh. I kiss her legs over and over as I cup my hands on the backs of her thighs, and when I eventually look up at her, the delight in her eyes is enough to keep me exactly where I am.
“Maybe I do,” she says. “Or maybe I just like seeing you this out of your mind over me.”
“Oh really? This was your plan?” I ask.
“I’m thinking about not wearing underwear later, too,” she says, head tilting.
Shit .
“Maybe I’ll give you my stool after the show… you can lick the wetness off of it from me thinking about you all night.”
My eyes flutter, and I swallow at the tease, forehead pressing to her thigh.
“Also, I found my wearable vibrator,” she says, her voice so even and nonchalant that it’s making my jaw tick. “That could be fun, too.”
I find the strength to stand, and when I’m hovering over her, she pulls her drumsticks out from behind her back, pretending as if she’s just turning them the same way.
And all I can think about is how pretty they looked pumping in and out of her.
I’m biting the inside of my mouth when she beams up at me.
“What?” she asks, head tilting.
“Get your ass back in that trailer,” I deliberately tell her.
“Why? Aren’t we late?”
I grind my teeth and look down at my phone.
“Fuck,” I mutter, my hands suddenly itching to get her ass-up on that bed.
“Oh… Poor Gemma,” she taunts. “Babygirl, are you sad?”
I start to wrap my hand around her waist, yet she steps out of my grasp.
“Hm. I’m not really feeling being touched right now,” she says, shrugging. “Maybe later. I should focus on the show. That’s what you said this morning, right? Try not to get distracted?”
“You know that’s not what I meant,” I mumble. “I told you that because I didn’t want you to worry about… other things. Did you not get that?”
“I thought you meant everything,” she says, blinking innocently.
She walks by me, arm brushing mine, and I’m rooted in a stupor.
“What is happening?” I ask.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, and I glance over my shoulder at her.
“Bonnie—”
She pivots and starts dragging her fingers over the sticks in a way that makes me swallow. “Dude, I’m kind of hungry, too.”
My brows raise. “You didn’t eat any of the food I left this morning?” I ask, now personally offended.
Her lips press into a thin smile, and she shakes her head. “Nope.”
“Babe, you know you forget to eat. That’s why I sat it on the bed,” I say.
“You should have been more specific instead of just leaving the food out.”
I clench my teeth, almost smiling at her purposefully taunting me.
“Did you just wake up on the bratty side of the bed this morning?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I woke up in your arms, so is that the bratty side?”
“It won’t be after today,” I mutter under my breath.
“What?”
My eyes roll up from staring at her legs, and I lick my lips when I see her smirking. “Are you going to be like this all day?” I ask.
Her shoulders draw up as she walks backward, and it’s so fucking cute that I can’t help my tight-lipped smile, the shake of my head.
“God fucking dammit,” I say to myself.
“Are you coming?” she asks. “I thought we were late.”
“We would be late if I had my way,” I say as I start walking.
She’s grinning when I catch up with her and the entire way to the stage, I’m debating whether to throw her over my shoulder and take her back to the damn trailer.
Still…
I can’t make us late.
It goes against every “keep work separate” bone in my body, and I fucking hate it.
All I can hear in the back of my mind as we walk is Liam telling me I’m “angry walking,” and I’m pretty sure this time, he’s right.
It’s going to be a long day.
“Let’s go, motherfuckers,” Zeb announces as the three of us hit the stage at the same time.
“Hell yes!” Bonnie jumps and smacks the hand he has in the air when he passes. Zeb sinks his arm around her, and I back up to the edge of the stage where Kade is waiting in the wings.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he says, arms crossed over his chest. “Why don’t you look like you had the most blissful night?”
“Because my girlfriend decided to be a brat this morning,” I mutter, scratching my neck.
Kade laughs quietly. “That’s really cute. Have you slept in the corner of the room instead of the bed yet?”
“I thought about it.”
“You two hear any more from Rad?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I think he’s called, but I’ve told her to ignore it. No one has time for his bullshit. Did he do anything stupid online?”
Kade gives me a crooked smirk, and my shoulders slump.
“What now?”
“He just went on a rant. As usual. Seems like people are getting tired of it, though. Some commenters told him to get over it and stop bitching. He claims he blocked them because he ‘doesn’t deserve their negativity.’”
I snort. “Yeah okay.” I turn and gesture for the report in his hand. “Give it to me. What are we looking at today?”
As Kade begins rattling off some of the things he’s found online, along with the details from venue security, my gaze wanders slightly to the journalist standing onstage and chatting with Reed. He’s the same one who was at the studio last week, and I vaguely remember Wren deciding she was better off staying in her apartment that day.
“Hey, Kade, can you come look at this?” someone calls him.
I stick my hand out for the report he’s made and flip through it as he goes to help one of the other security guys set up their communication devices.
The comments he’s highlighted online are the usual trash. Nothing of a huge concern, some speculating how the band will fare after the last festival’s disaster.
Young Decay made a few social posts hinting at what’s coming today and people have been losing their minds trying to figure it out. I smile at a couple of theories, at the lines he’s printed from music bloggers—which reminds me…
“Hey, Kade, is Liam circulating soundcheck?” I call to him.
“Yeah. No peeks, right?” he replies.
“Right. Thanks. Hey, Stella—” I flip the pages back and fold them under my arm, then jog after the tour manager who looks like she’s about to pass out.
“Hey, Gemma. How is tonight looking?” she asks.
“Good. Nothing that I’m too worried about,” I reply.
“Thank fuck for that,” she mutters. “Avie will be here any minute. He wants to hear them play it through. He was on with Rock half of the damn night tweaking this intro.”
My brows narrow. “I hope he went over that with Mads,” I say.
“Oh, he did. Mads enforces his creative contract quite frequently, and Avie knows not to fuck with him,” Stella replies. “Did you need something?”
“Ah—” A table with snacks and water bottles catches my eye, and I shrug her off. “Nope. Just checking in. We’re good on our end.”
“Great, Avie will be glad to hear it. I’m excited to see this all come together. I hate saying it, but I do think it was a great idea,” she says.
“Same. They’ve worked their asses off on it. I’ll catch you later,” I say, backing away.
“Oh, Gemma, please make sure they stay in their trailers or on the green before tonight. I don’t want them up front,” she goes on.
“Neither do I,” I agree.
Bonnie is spinning on her stool when I eventually make my way up the stairs to her platform, Zeb and Mads working through a couple of things below while Reed sits on the edge of the stage and pours over a piece of paper.
Andi points her phone at Bonnie, and as Bonnie sees her, she makes a V with her fingers at her mouth, then sticks her tongue between them, grinning.
Andi laughs. “Definitely going on socials,” she says, snapping the picture. “Soundcheck shenanigans with Bedlam. So unserious.”
“Always unserious,” Bonnie replies as she spins again.
Her spin slows upon my approach, delight rising in her eyes as if she’s still amused about this morning. I set an open bottle of water and unwrapped granola bar on her bass, brow lifting when I meet her gaze as if that should be enough inclination for her to please fucking eat something .
She holds my stare as she grabs the water, and a small part of me relaxes as I watch the liquid hit her lips.
“Thank you,” I mouth to her.
She puckers her lips and blows me a kiss, and it takes everything in me not to lean over the set and capture her mouth with mine. Still, Rock is calling for a run-through, and I’m not about to hinder it.
I happily back out of their space.