Chapter 31
31
FOSTER
I was wrong.
Not a first, but by far the worst.
And as I stare at a dark ceiling, arms around Remi, her head and breaths on my chest, I’m trying to figure out how long I can keep her. How after all this time it was me who fucked everything. Me alone.
The one thing I could hold on to of her for all these years was sharing the blame.
Not anymore. Not ever.
Guilt’s still there, though—and now I have even more to carry.
When my screen lights up, I reach for my phone on the nightstand. Our flight to San Diego leaves sooner than I want. Which is at all. The timing couldn’t be less ideal.
I finally have her and need to go.
In the message Christian sent our group chat, he threatens to drag us out of our rooms if we aren’t by the elevator in twenty minutes.
To avoid running into anyone in the hall, I need to get back to my room now. Until she and I talk, I don’t want anyone else pushing or prying. A lot changed last night, but we still have jagged pieces to sort out.
At some point over the next two days, I need to bring the guys back to Remi’s side. Even without the details, I know she’s not responsible for what happened with the label. I likely called it with Wannabe.
Another piece.
I carefully shift out from under Remi and scrub a hand over my face, standing up. I redress and tap out a text to her while I return to the bed. If I wake her, I’ll fuck her. As tempting as it might be, I hit send. Her phone lights as I lean down and kiss the top of her head. I straighten, stare down at her, and I’ll find a way to keep her.
I can’t let Remi go again.
Even if it means keeping the rest buried away for a little while. Just until I figure out a way to make her stay once she knows the truth. The whole truth.
* * *
Very little competes with performing for an amped-up crowd. The stage grows and the seats multiply, but the heart remains unwavering. I lived for it then, now, always.
Playing the benefit concert isn’t any less potent of a high.
Between the crowd and those watching the live stream, they blow through all of our incentives for donating—they have all night. We started by playing behind a white curtain hung from the ceiling with lights behind us, casting our shadows for the crowd. It only fell after they hit the first goal. For the others, we each answered an audience member’s question, only kept playing so long as they met secret mini-goals for a song, and matched everything raised through another.
Then they unlocked the stripped version of “Haunted” to finish out our set, and the donations are still pouring in as we walk off stage. Felix claps both hands on my shoulders from behind on our way down the stairs, but Dev jumps on his back, so I duck from under them.
They and Colt are planning some epic night I have no intentions of joining. I need to shower, and after coming down off the high, I want to try for at least a few hours of sleep before our early morning flight back to Texas.
We stop for photos with the fans who won chances to be backstage and interact with the camera streaming online for extra behind-the-scenes shots.
We’re heading to our dressing room when someone shouts down the hallway. Sav Loveless comes bounding toward us, fucking beaming and ready for The Hometown Heartless to close out the show.
She slows once we turn around, walking the rest of the way. “I wanted to thank you again for helping last minute. You guys killed it.”
“The way your team put this together is incredible,” I tell her. “We should be thanking you for letting us be a part of it.”
“Like it was even a question given the year you’ve had.” She glances over her shoulder as a guy saunters up behind her. “Did you get ‘Haunted’?”
He nods to her, then at us.
“This is Levi,” she says. “He was on camera duty. I’ve wanted to hear an acoustic ‘Haunted’ since I saw the video of your Toronto show. I almost demanded it in my post. The song hits different—raw and moving. Mac Records should have been begging you for the unplugged version. Clearly, they’re idiots?—”
“Savannah.”
She flits her gaze toward Levi. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
His lips twitch, and she’s back to us.
“We wrote it to be acoustic,” Dev says, and Felix adds, “We wanted to release the original as a bonus track, but they shut it down, wanting to wait to maximize profits or some shit.”
Sav throws a look at Levi that screams, told you so . But I’m stuck on what she said before.
“You were the one who posted the video and tagged us? Not your team?”
She nods, a smirk forming. “And I’m going to post this performance with a middle finger emoji, tagging Mac.”
“She’s not,” Levi interjects.
Sav shrugs. “I should.”
I chuckle. “Won’t be mad if you do.”
She smiles like she really might, and out of all the rumors about Sav Loveless, one is definitely true. She’s a force.
“Savvy.”
She and Levi both half-turn to Torren King down the hall. The bassist raises his arms and drops them.
“I think they want you, rock star,” Levi says.
Sav’s lips perk up, a familiar spark surrounding her. I bet the exact feeling courses through her as the one racing beneath my skin every time I’m about to go on stage.
We exchange goodbyes with Levi before he heads toward the rest of The Hometown Heartless.
“Enjoy the end of your tour.” Sav starts backing away. “Whenever you’re ready to stick it to Mac Records, you have my number.”
“We do,” I mumble as she turns around.
Her silver hair swings behind her as she jogs back to her band, and Felix slaps me in the chest, grabbing the front of my shirt.
“Did that just fucking happen?” he asks.
“No chance.” Dev sighs and hangs his head. “It has to be group hysteria.”
But I smile and knock Felix’s hand away. “Nah, we’re lucid. But you’re right. It didn’t just fucking happen.” I spin and slap a grinning Colt on the shoulder on my way past him. “We made it fucking happen.”