Chapter 40
40
REMI
Footsteps fast approach from behind as I rush down the hall toward the venue’s exit. I glance over my shoulder but keep walking, despite my shadow’s long strides after me.
“I can’t right now, Colt.” My voice shakes. My chest hurts. I feel seconds away from collapsing.
So many thoughts swim and swirl, mixing with the old ones. Anytime I try to latch onto an emotion, another sweeps me away. Foster was there at the lake. He came for me. Then he didn’t tell me. And made me easy to find by ditching my phone. He knew Sage. He blamed me for Chase’s accident.
Colton falls into step beside me. “We don’t have to talk, Remi. I’ll just feel better if I know you’re safe on the bus.”
A tear slips before I wipe it away. “Thank you.”
Fans are unable to access the back lot with the adjusted security measures, deeming the escort unnecessary, but I appreciate it all the same. Especially since he doesn’t say a word.
The night air chills my skin once we step outside, and I slow partway to the bus. I close my eyes, breathe deep. A warm presence lingers. I wouldn’t be surprised if Colton eases closer specifically so I don’t get cold. I shiver anyway. More from a decrease of adrenaline and emotion.
“Here.”
When I look over, he’s yanking off his sweatshirt. I glance at the bus, then back to him, and he tilts his head.
“You look like you need a second.” He shoves the sweatshirt at me. “Take it. None of the band will come out without me knowing.”
With a halfhearted smile, I push my hands through the sleeves. I only wear half of it, warming my front.
He strolls over to lean against the side of the bus. His expression stays harsh, body language rigid.
“You heard us,” I say.
He nods, pursing his lips. “I heard enough.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. Are you mad at me?”
“Not really. I’m fucking livid at Foster, though.”
I’m about to tell him it was me who didn’t want to tell him, but he sighs and tips his head back.
“No one ever told me your name after they got back from Europe. Just that some chick broke Foster’s heart, and he went after her . And then everything went to shit. Months went by with Chase in his recovery. There never felt like a good time to bring up the ghost girl. The one time I did, Foster asked if I’d do him a solid and forget about it entirely.”
I nod, crossing my covered arms as I go to lean beside him. He angles his face to see me, solemn and with a haunting devastation to his eyes. Suddenly I wonder if it’s always existed, and I haven’t noticed until now.
“I’m sorry for what happened to Chase, too.” I pick at a loose thread on the sweatshirt’s hem. “I can’t imagine what you went through.”
His gaze lowers. “Yeah.”
We fall silent, and I stare up at the sky even if the city lights block the stars. The pang in my chest grows as I think about the extent of the damage caused—one moment catalyzing so many others. It all comes back to me.
When I ran from Daniel, I set so much suffering in motion.
After a few minutes, Colton straightens, listening to someone through his earpiece.
“Be there in a few,” he tells them. He tips his head toward the bus’s door. “We can come back out after everyone else is on the bus if you want.”
I shake my head. “I’ll be okay.”
And I am. Until I climb the ladder and crawl under the blankets. Then I’m not okay for a while.
* * *
When I wake up—though I barely sleep—the erratic emotions from last night have dulled to a soft blur.
The last couple weeks of challenging myself to not hide from the past so much, I imagine, make a difference in how I’m coping with the new information. The reawakened anxiety that accompanies it.
No panic attacks though.
It’s early, so I expect everyone to still be asleep. But when I descend, all the emotions surge again. Foster’s on the couch in sweatpants and no shirt. He’s facing me, his back against the arm, both knees bent to prop up his notebook as he writes.
He flicks his eyes up to me and slides out an earbud. The apprehension’s evident in his face while he waits for me to decide how the scene unfolds. I feel the new tear, which first developed last night. Hearing the strain in his voice when talking about Chase had part of me wanting to run into his arms. But the other part can’t reconcile how he played a role in what nearly cost Roman his life—and broke me in ways I never thought possible.
Suffice to say, I hate this tear as much as the old.
Especially since Foster’s no more at fault now than five years ago—I’m still the root.
“I don’t know how I feel,” I admit.
He nods. “You don’t have to know. You just need to feel it.”
What I feel is the tug. To him.
So I follow it.
Foster moves the notebook aside when I come to crawl between his knees to lie on his chest. He adjusts to accommodate. Once we’ve settled, he kisses the top of my head. My cheek presses against his heated skin, and he sets his music to play through the speakers. His fingers run up and down my back as I absorb everything him and fall asleep.
If dreams were premonitions, mine would be something about lights and tunnels and annihilating trains.
* * *
By the end of the night, my picture’s plastered online.
Nothing concrete, but half a dozen shots of Adams North and the girl on tour with him. No mention of the documentary or my name, but fuzzy images of me with my legs wrapped around him, his hands on my ass. His mouth shamelessly devouring mine. Those are amplified by one of me tucked under his arm when the fans were rough.
It’s the most visible I’ve been. Not only in the last several years but in my life.
“Baby, I’m so fucking sorry.” Foster takes his phone from my hand, pocketing it.
We’re tucked away backstage in a dark hallway, my back pressed to the wall. Christian gave him a heads-up right after the encore and sent him screenshots.
He braces his arm on the wall above me and tips my chin up with his fingers. His pale eyes shift between mine, analyzing what I imagine is a blank look. The rest of me blanks too. My reaction’s not as bad as I expected. Blank beats unable to breathe.
“This is my fault. No one would care if I didn’t maul you when I came off stage the last two shows.”
I swallow, blinking out of the initial shock. “It was bound to happen.”
“No. I promised we’d do this on your terms, Remi. Then I put a spotlight right on us.” He shakes his head, and his nostrils flare. “How can I make this right?”
The answer isn’t one I want to give, but I’m so overwhelmed and exhausted. “I think I should go back to New York.”
His eyes crush closed when he winces. “ Fuck .”
“The key scenes are done,” I tell him. “Xander’s more than capable of finishing up with the other two. He can use my questions for your interviews, and I’ll be back for the last one when the tour wraps.”
“Sounds miserable.” Foster’s lashes flutter open, and he adds, “For me.”
I reach up and drag my fingers over his jaw. Stubble scrapes the tips. “It’s just too much at once for me right now. My feet aren’t even back under me after what you told me yesterday. About you, Sage, the lake, and now I realize why you resented me so much. Because of me, you weren’t there for Chase?—”
“That’s not yours to claim, Remi,” he says, cutting me off. “That regret is all mine.”
I disagree but let him have it.
“Still, I haven’t finished processing what all of it means. Then add the stress of filming and being on the road. And now my picture’s going to be everywhere.”
“You’re safe.” He clutches the side of my face. “If that’s what you’re worried about…”
I flash a small smile. “I know.”
And I mean it. The panic over my photo being public is fading. I just needed the parts of me that believe no one will hunt me down because of them to catch up.
After living in fear, some preservation tendencies never fully vanish. The gut reactions remain, the instinct to run or hide threatens to take hold before all else. Fear is meant to protect us, and sometimes you need to talk it down. I might not have the healthiest dialogue with mine, but it’s at least taking my calls.
I touch the side of his neck. “But if I stay, there will be more pictures. People will be trying to figure out who I am. It’ll probably get more intense since, as far as I know, you haven’t been seriously linked to anyone.”
“No one,” he confirms. “You’re right, though. They won’t stop anytime soon.”
“I’m not ready for that added battle yet. Colton said Felix is having trouble because he’s needing to fight his demons while under a spotlight now. I’ve witnessed him struggling more the longer the tour goes on.”
His head bobs. “I’m watching him. We all are.”
“Good.” I knew he would be, but it feels better hearing him verify. “And like you said, we’ll be under one now too. I can’t do what I need to right now. You’ve already helped me heal more than I ever thought I would. I’m not all the way there yet, but I want to be—I think I can be whole again one day. So much of that has to do with you. I just need to give myself a better chance to get there before taking on the world too.”
The muscles of his jaw tighten, gaze studying me for reassurance or an alternative, I’m unsure, but he must find whatever he needed.
“Shit.” He gently brushes his lips over mine, a resigned sigh following as his thumb sweeps across my cheek. “I meant what I said last night. I’ll let you leave, but I won’t let you go. I’ll find a way to be there, even if it’s in pieces for a while. You know my conditions, Remi—anything you need as long as I keep you.”