13. Torren
13
TORREN
“How was the ride?”
Callie whips her head in my direction, shock covering her features as if she’s surprised to see me. The expression is wiped away within seconds, though, and she takes the last few steps off the bus and lands on the pavement beside me.
I take her suitcase with one hand and sling my other arm around her shoulder. She stiffens briefly before reluctantly relaxing into my hold. Once she does, I can’t help but notice how perfectly she fits into my side, like our bodies are compatible puzzle pieces. Her curves fit my edges, and for a second, I want to hold her against me more tightly.
The thought makes me put more distance between us.
“Fine. I slept the whole way.”
“Did you get on good with the girls?”
She shrugs. “Sure. They pointed me to the bedroom, and I didn’t see them again until Mabel woke me up to tell me we were here.”
“I’m glad you got some rest.”
She nods, but she doesn’t say anything else as I guide her from the bus and into the five-star hotel with Damon following behind us. The band has stayed at the hotel several times while touring, and we always return because they have top-notch security, and they take the privacy of their guests seriously.
“The whole top floor is ours,” I tell Callie. “You have your own room, but it’s in a suite with Sav and Mabes. I hope that’s okay. ”
“And if it’s not?”
“Then we get you your own suite,” I say pointedly, and I mean it. We’re prepared to rent out another whole floor for her if we need to. “Did you happen to go through anything in your room on the bus?”
“The only thing I paid attention to was the bed.”
I huff a laugh and lead her through the hotel lobby. A bellhop greets us, then the attendant at the front desk, but no one else pays us any mind. I can almost pretend I’m invisible. It’s how I prefer it these days.
“Did you meet your security detail?”
“I did. Craig. He seems... large .”
I smile to myself. Craig Walton is six-foot-seven and solid muscle. Large is putting it mildly.
“He’s great at his job. He’ll keep you safe.”
Callie nods, but she doesn’t respond. I’m sure this whole thing is overwhelming, so I don’t attempt further conversation.
We round the corner and run into Jonah waiting for the elevator with his security. He greets us with a nod, and I don’t miss the way his eyes linger a little longer on Callie. He waits for her to return his nod before he glances back at me.
“They went up. I stopped to smoke.”
“Okay...”
Jonah’s never felt the need to explain himself to me, so I get the feeling it was for Callie’s benefit. Why, I don’t know. I arch a questioning brow, but his face stays blank. He’s always a goddamn statue—impossible to read unless he allows it.
When the elevator opens, we step inside and ride it silently to the top floor. Jonah heads to our shared suite without a word, and I walk Callie to hers.
“I’ll be back in two hours to take you out,” I tell her, and she glances up at me nervously.
“Take me where? Your show isn’t until tomorrow night.”
“A date, obviously. We have to make public appearances, remember?”
She chews on that plump bottom lip of hers, straight white teeth denting the pillowy surface, and stares at something over my shoulder. “How much PDA are we talking?”
“Nothing big. We’re going to dinner. I have reservations at eight. ”
Her eyes go wide, and she whips them back at me. “I don’t have an outfit for somewhere that requires reservations. You saw my apartment. You know about my jobs. Hell, I’ve even allowed myself to be pimped out to you, for god’s sake. What makes you think I go to places with reservations ?”
My lips twitch with the need to smile, but I don’t. She’s cute when she’s frazzled, and I don’t want to think she’s cute.
“If you check the closet in your room, you should be able to find something,” I tell her, and she blinks rapidly at me. Before she can open her mouth to question it, I take two steps backward. “I’ll be back at seven thirty.”
I turn on my heel and head to my suite, running the day over in my head. Since our little photoshoot in Sav’s driveway, I keep coming back to the light, fresh way Callie smelled. Every time I successfully direct my brain to something else, it somehow manages to revert back to her scent. Like a damn dog. It’s all I thought about for the six-hour bus ride. Her scent, and the soft, sexy way she felt under my hands. The way her breath hitched. The way her lips parted. She acts like she can’t stand me, but her body language when I touch her says something else entirely.
I find Callie James attractive and extremely intriguing, and that’s not a good thing. Attraction is harmless. I’ve been attracted to a lot of women. But attraction paired with intrigue? That’s dangerous.
I let myself into the suite I share with Jonah and find him already smoking another cigarette on the balcony. I take out my phone and text Sav.
Me
Jo’s chain smoking again.
Sav
Watch him.
Me
No shit.
I wait a few seconds for a snarky retort, but when one doesn’t come, I sigh and stick my phone back in my pocket, then walk to the balcony.
“You good?” I ask as I step through the door. He doesn’t look at me when he shrugs .
“Been worse.”
“Not what I want to hear, Jo.”
“It’s what I got for you.”
I sit in one of the chairs and prop my feet up on the wrought-iron table. He flicks his eyes toward me and takes a drag from his cigarette. I wait him out.
“So, Callie...” he starts, then trails off.
He doesn’t say anything else, but I know what he’s asking, and my immediate answer surprises me.
“No.”
“No?”
I shake my head. “This is too important. I don’t want to do anything to blur the lines,” I explain, but there’s a whispering suspicion in my head that it’s not the whole reason.
I should stop there, but I don’t.
“You like her?” I ask, and Jo takes another drag from his cigarette before answering.
“I could.”
“Don’t.”
His brows rise in surprise. It’s more expression than we’re used to getting from him. There’s a hint of jealousy in my tone that he no doubt heard. It’s completely out of character for me, and I see the curiosity in his eyes.
“Because it would blur the lines ...?” he asks, distrust lacing every word. My nostrils flare at the challenge.
“Exactly.”
I stare at him, daring him to question me further, but he doesn’t. Not because he feels threatened, but because he just doesn’t care enough to try. Jo doesn’t care about much anymore, and right now, I’m torn between letting him drop it and wishing he’d show some emotion other than indifference.
I resist the impulse to poke at him. Even anger is better than this cold detachment. I’d rather him rage out and destroy another hotel room because at least it would mean he’s allowing himself to feel something. But I’m selfish, and I don’t want to be studied by Jonah’s keen eye. His observational skills are better than most. Even when fucked up, his ability to read people is almost scarily astute. I’d rather keep my personal thoughts to myself right now.
We slip back into silence until we’re interrupted by Hammond sliding the door to the patio wide open.
“We have a problem,” he grunts, and then he turns and heads back inside.
I sigh, stand, and follow him with Jonah trailing behind me. The moment I’m through the door, my defenses go on high alert. Sav, Mabel, and Sav’s dog Ziggy are already sitting on the couch in the suite, and they all look like they’re about to attend a funeral. Even the dog.
“What happened?” I ask, eyes lingering on Sav’s solemn face. “What’s wrong?”
Hammond hands me his tablet, some sleezy gossip blog pulled up on the screen. When I scan the headline, my shoulders droop.
“They’re not buying it? Why the fuck not?”
Hammond takes the tablet back and answers me in the matter-of-fact way that he does.
“Because they didn’t see you together for three weeks until you picked her up this morning, and she looks stiff as a board when you’re near her.” He pulls up a photo and shows it to me. One of me walking her from her apartment door to my car. “Frankly, she looks like she’d rather be holding hands with a giant spider than with you.”
“Spiders don’t have hands,” Jonah chimes in, and Hammond sends him an unimpressed side-eyed glance. I’d laugh if I wasn’t so pissed.
“Of course she looks uncomfortable. She was bombarded with paparazzi at eight in the morning. It took us years to get used to it.”
Hammond brushes me off. “The photos I sent out will help, but the seed of doubt is planted now. We’ll have to do everything we can to counteract it.”
I drag my hands over my face. “Fine. The dinner tonight should help.”
“There’s something else,” Sav says, and when I look at her, her face is full of concern. “That article was texted to me from an unmarked number.”
“The stalker?”
She lifts a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Who else? ”
My impulse to go to her, to hold her and protect her, makes my muscles ache. For years, I was the one comforting Sav. I used to be the one she confided in, but I can’t be that guy anymore. She’s chosen someone else to fill that role. But where the fuck is he? I grind my teeth as Mabel rests her head on Sav’s shoulder, a gesture that lessens my anxiety by a fraction.
“Mother fuck. We have got to find this guy and have him arrested.”
“We will,” Hammond says. “We’ve got people on it. But in the meantime, you’ve got to step it up.”
“Fine. I’ll step it up. We’ll be more convincing. By this time tomorrow, as far as everyone in America will know, Callie James and I will be totally obsessed with one another.”
“I don’t like this,” Sav says. “I hate this, actually.”
“It doesn’t really matter what you think. I’m doing what needs to be done.”
Sav shakes her head with a sigh. “Just...be fucking careful, okay? Make sure you both understand what this is about.”
I arch a brow. “Are you worrying about my heart now or hers, Savannah?”
“Can’t it be both?”
“No. It can’t be. You didn’t care about my feelings before. Don’t start now.”
“For fuck’s sake, Torren. That’s not fair, and you know it. I never wanted to hurt you. I’ve apologized a thousand times, but I can’t help how?—”
“You can’t change how you feel. Yeah, I get it, okay? I understand. But you need to back the fuck off. I’m a big boy. I can fucking handle this.”
“Can we...like... not do this again?” Mabel says. “Savannah, stop handling Tor with kid gloves. He can make his own decisions, and it’s the best fucking option we’ve got right now. And, Torren, fucking lay off her. You’re acting like a jealous, heartbroken asshole, and it’s starting to get old. Your relationship was over way before Levi came into the picture, and you know it. Stop ripping open old wounds.”
I clamp my eyes shut and breathe through my nose. I bite my tongue on the need to defend myself against Mabel’s attack. I know all of this. I know everything she’s said to be true. But how can I explain it to her? I don’t feel like this because I want Sav back in that way. I just want back in . It’s been over a year. I shouldn’t feel so fucking lost around her anymore. She was my best fucking friend and now she barely speaks to me.
Things were supposed to go back to normal. To how they were before. With the band. With us. With me . I should be fucking fixed by now, and it sure as fuck shouldn’t still hurt the way it does.
“I’m done with this conversation,” I say finally. “I have it handled. So if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”