16. Jace
16
Jace
The crowd’s roar fades to white noise as my eyes lock on Mallory. Even from across the stage, I can see the tension in her shoulders, the forced smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Something’s off, and I’m itching to fix it.
Right now, though, it looks like she would rather be anywhere but here, and I wonder if it has anything to do with her being late to the interview she had set up for Sweet Surrender. I’m not sure why they would be upset because, according to her, she ended up sending everything they would need through email, so it wasn’t exactly mandatory for her to be there.
While Evan strums his solo, I keep my attention focused on the opening in the curtains where Mallory is standing. If I wasn’t watching her so closely, I’d miss the fact that she’s nodding her head back and forth along with the chords of Evan’s guitar — at least she’s enjoying the music, even if it doesn’t seem like the case.
Right before Evan’s chords come to an end, signaling the start of my solo, I catch sight of Julia as she comes to a stop at Mallory’s side. I blow out a breath of relief when an enormous smile overtakes Mallory’s face, her arm wrapping around Julia’s waist as she pulls her in for a hug, and I put all my focus back on our show.
It doesn’t last long, though, as I think of ways that I can relieve some of Mallory’s stress. For a moment I’m too caught up in my thoughts that I strum the chords of my guitar wrong, the sound echoing through the stadium and making me flinch. Brent snaps his attention to me, eyebrow raised slightly, and then he saves the day by talking into the mic and getting the crowd hyped up for our next song.
Mallory deserves a night free from stress, a chance to breathe and just be. Before I can second-guess myself, I make a silent vow. I'll be the one to give her that respite, even if it's just for a few hours. Our deal, our carefully constructed boundaries, they all fade into the background when I think of her smile.
As I play through the rest of the set on autopilot, a warmth spreads through my chest. This isn't just about alleviating Mallory's stress anymore. It's about how she's seeped into every aspect of my life, coloring my world in ways I never expected.
Shit. Who am I kidding?
The truth slams into me like a spotlight. Mallory makes me feel like the luckiest man alive. Not because of our arrangement, not because of the physical connection, but because of who she is - her strength, her determination, her vulnerabilities.
I'm falling for her, hard and fast, and for the first time in my life, I'm not sure I want to retreat to safer ground.
***
When we exit the stage one after the other, I frown when I notice Julia is standing alone and make my way over to her. She eyes me curiously, then smirks and glances over my shoulder at Brent.
“Amazing, as always,” she whispers with a loving smile aimed at her husband, her arms wrapping around his neck as he pulls her against him. “You never fail to impress me.”
Watching the two of them together only makes me crave the moment for myself that much more, and I imagine Mallory as the woman waiting for me as I stalk off stage, desperate to be near her once again. It’s not a bad image, and I crave it the longer it lasts, but I shake it from my head before clearing my throat.
“Uh, did Mallory head out?”
Julia glances at me, a knowing gleam in her eye that has me on edge, and she nods. “Yeah, said she wasn’t feeling great tonight.” When I don’t answer, she sighs and leans closer to me. “If you ask me, I think it has everything to do with Hilary. That woman does nothing but glare at Mallory, and I’d be stressed too if I were her.”
“Right,” I mutter, then glance down the hallway that leads to our dressing rooms. “I’m gonna get changed, then head to the hotel. I’m beat.”
It’s not a lie, but also not my plan when I get to the hotel. I have already firmly set up everything I want to do in my head, and I’m excited to see Mallory’s reaction to it all.
***
The adrenaline from the concert still courses through my veins as I make my way back to the hotel, my mind racing with plans for the evening ahead. The weight of the bags in my hands is a reminder of my mission - to bring a smile back to Mallory's face.
As I step into my room, the quiet solitude is a stark contrast to the roaring crowd I left behind. I set the bags down with a sigh of relief, the soft thud a punctuation mark between the chaos of the show and the intimacy of what's to come. My fingers tingle with anticipation as I begin to unpack, each item a piece of the puzzle I'm piecing together for Mallory.
I’m just thankful that most of the large cities we play at have stores open twenty-four hours, so it wasn’t difficult to get to one of them for all the supplies I’d need tonight. I grab the bottle of wine I purchased, then a bucket, and head back out into the hall to find the ice machine they keep by all the rooms.
It only takes me a few moments to fill it up, but I still worry that one of the guys is going to walk out and wonder what the hell I’m doing. I steal one quick glance down both ends of the hall, double-checking that I’m still alone, then step back into my room and shut the door behind me.
Once I’ve filled the bucket with ice and submerged the wine, I head back to my bags of supplies to set up the next thing.
I’m not a romantic guy, but I know women love taking baths, and I thought Mallory would appreciate a relaxing one. I got a sound machine that plays unique nature sounds—rain falling, ocean waves, tropical storms, and plenty of others—and a stress-relieving bubble bath I’m hoping works like it says it should.
I carry the sound machine into my large bathroom, set it up on the shelf next to the sink, then set the bubble bath at the edge of the tub. Once I know she’s on her way, I’ll start the bath and dump a healthy dose of the bubble bath into it. Before it gets too late, or she decides to go to bed, I quickly send a text to Mallory for her to come to my room in about thirty minutes.
That should be plenty of time for the wine to cool against the ice and allow me the time to get everything else perfected as well.
I snatch the bag full of candles from the floor, then make my way back into the bathroom so I can look around and determine where they will sit. There’s a large window above the toilet, so I put a few along that and turn around to make a line of them along the sink. My last spot to put them is along the tub’s edge, which seems like the perfect spot for me, and once I’ve got them situated, I take a step back to inspect my work.
The ones sitting along the window and sink look out of place, so I drop them into the bag and take them back into the bedroom with me. I nearly smack myself in the head when I open another bag and find the blocks of cheese I purchased staring back at me, so I scurry along the floor to stash them into the mini fridge until I’m ready to cut them.
Although the robes our hotel provides are nice, I felt like Mallory deserved something a little more luxurious, so I grabbed a better one. I pulled the thick, fluffy fabric out of the bag, tossed it over my arm, and walked back into the bathroom so I could hang it on the hook behind the door.
When I take in the picture before me — the candles, sound machine, bubble bath — a frown forms on my face.
I'm struck by the unfamiliarity of my actions, a wave of vulnerability washing over me. I've never done this for anyone before, and I never cared enough to try. The care I'm putting into every detail is foreign, yet it feels right. This desire to see her smile again, to ease her burdens, is exhilarating and worrisome all at once.
As I arrange the candles and set out the wine, I'm forced to confront the truth I've been avoiding. I thought I was just scratching an itch, but now I'm building a home. It's about connection, about wanting to be the person who makes her day better. The realization sends a jolt of panic through me. This level of caring wasn't part of the plan.
So what would make me try to relieve her stress? This isn’t something I’m supposed to do. It crosses a line and shows that I care.
Maybe I do care.
I shake my head, foot tapping nervously onto the hardwood flooring, and scrub a hand down my face.
Caring would be bad. It means that I’m feeling things I shouldn’t be. My heart thuds loudly at the prospect, but I do my best to ignore it and back away from the room.
Even if this is over-the-top, I can’t back out now — I’ve already got Mallory coming to the room, and it would be weird to send her away. She would know something’s up and likely come anyway to check on me.
What if she doesn’t like any of it?
First, I worried about how this would make our situation look, and now I’m concerned about her liking it — I really need to figure out where my head is at, and soon. There’s one more bag left, so I carefully pick it up and take it into the bathroom, where I spread the contents out along the bathroom sink. I place them as neatly as possible along the edge, then stare at everything with a furrowed brow, and it isn’t until my phone beeps that I jump into action.
She’s going to be here soon, and I didn’t even start the bath.
After I double-check that Mallory’s actually going to pay me a visit, I hurry over to the tub and start running her water. It doesn’t take long for the bubble bath I dumped inside to start creating bubbles, and I give myself a mental pat on the back while smiling. There’s a remote for the sound machine, so I click the power button and set it at the edge of the tub where Mallory can reach it.
The next thing I do is light all the candles scattered around the tub, with enough time to spare for me to get any garbage thrown away. Just as I wipe sweat from my brow, since I’m nervous as hell now, there’s a soft knock on my door that echoes four times. I take a deep breath, then carefully make my way over and pull the door open with a smile.
She takes a moment, eyeing me curiously, then steps into the room.
“What was so urgent you needed me to come here tonight?” Her voice isn’t soft like it normally is, which is enough to show me she’s got a lot on her mind.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “Just trust me, sweetheart.” The words come out softer than intended, loaded with an emotion I’m not ready to name.
Her eyes meet mine, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through her defenses. It’s enough to make my heart skip a beat.
I walk up behind her, press a tender kiss to the side of her head since I can’t get enough of her, and roam my hands down the length of her body until I’m fisting the fabric of her shirt. She tries to pull away, likely to tell me that we’re not doing this right now, but I keep my hold on her tight and force her to look me in the eye.
Her gaze softens, even though there’s still a million other emotions running throughout, and she relaxes into my touch while I strip the clothes from her body. Once she’s bare to me, I take a moment to look her up and down slowly — something I never tired of doing — then I point toward the bathroom.
“Go wash up,” I whisper.
“I already showered.”
I smirk. “Humor me, then?”
She rolls her eyes but starts toward the bathroom without another word. When she gets to the door, her steps pause for a moment as she listens to the noises coming from the other side. Then she looks over her shoulder at me with a brow raised. I don’t answer, though, which forces her to push the bathroom door open.
I hold my breath as she reaches for the doorknob. In this moment, everything hangs in the balance. As the door swings open, I realize I’m not just hoping she likes the surprise. I’m hoping she understands what it means - what she means to me.
There’s an audible gasp, and I rush to follow her. As I watch her take in the scene - the candles, the bath, the thoughtful details -I’m struck by a realization that shakes me to my core. The look of wonder on her face, the way my heart swells at her reaction - it’s undeniable.
I'm falling, yes. But for the first time in my life, I don't want to stop the descent.