18. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
F or North’s entire career, he’d lived for moments like this. The crowds, the spotlight, the smooth rifts from the guitars vibrating in his bones, the beat of the drums quickening his pulse. Off the stage, he simply existed. He wasn’t always confident about the songs he wrote, so he went with whatever the band came up with.
Tonight, they’d pushed him to sing one of his own. A ballad he’d written during his lowest point over the summer while he was remembering his time with Tate. He wasn’t sure why he’d shared the lyrics with the band, or listened to Annette getting all excited and playing a few notes as she composed the whole thing in her head. Between her and Quinton, they had something decent by the end of the day.
But he kept pushing back recording. Second-guessing if it was the sound he wanted out there.
A part of him he wanted to give the world.
If Tate was still sleeping in his arms, North would’ve come out here and belted out the damn thing, let the crowd feel his pain, his hope, and leave them knowing things might get better.
But he didn’t know that they would.
One phone call and Tate wouldn’t look at him anymore. He snapped or glared when North stood too close. The man who’d cried in his arms, the man who’d asked for his friendship, was gone. Even Brave and Malakai noticed and their defeated looks only had him sinking deeper into the pit he’d been in when he’d written this song.
There was no fake happily-ever-after to feed to the fans. No illusions.
And sometimes that was needed too. The cold reality that you somehow survived without knowing there would be an end to the pain and sadness. Of course there would be. There had to be. And yet, when you were right in the depths of hell, all the pretty words and sunshine and butterflies seemed a mockery.
Don’t tell me I’ll be okay.
I don’t believe you.
I don’t need your lies.
I just want to be close to you, one last time.
He let all the raw pain seep into the words as he brought them to a whisper, bowed his head as the drums faded and the guitars went silent.
There was no cheering. No clapping. He pressed his eyes shut, afraid he’d taken too great of a risk letting the fans see this side of him. Given them music they hadn’t asked for.
A hand on his shoulder brought his head up and he turned to Annette, who was smiling at him. She jutted her chin at the crowd, who were holding up phones and lighters. Not the reaction he usually got, but one that meant so much. He’d connected with them on a different level.
And they were thanking him for it. Showing him they felt it too.
“This is your moment, North.” Annette rose up on the tiptoes of her spiky boots and kissed his cheek, speaking softly. “You gave me mine. The one I needed and I finally get to return the favor.”
He shook his head and hugged her with one arm, bowing as the silence broke and roaring cheers filled the venue. “I got all the attention for way too long. You deserved the spotlight. I’m fucking happy the fans finally see what the band did long ago.”
Her lips curved. “Yeah, you got the attention. The wrong kind.” She gave his shoulder a little shove. “Now they get to see you’re human. Deal with it.”
Rolling his eyes, he waved her away and went back to the mic. “Los Angeles, you’ve been fucking amazing! Thank you for starting this tour off by bringing the goddamn energy!” He waited as they screamed at him, holding up devil horns. “Now for who you’re really here for.” Another pause so the hardcore XVI Hours fans could shout their protests and the rest could begin their chants. “Make some fucking noise for Winter’s Wrath!”
He might as well have started a damn riot, considering the noise, but he gave one last bow and jogged off the stage with his band. Winter’s Wrath’s set up was complex, so it would be a bit before they actually went up while the crew rushed around behind the lowered curtain and set up the lights and smoke machines and the enormous blue flaming Winter’s Wrath logo.
Tate might not want him here, but he had every intention of watching the show from the shadows, then ducking out before Tate could see him. Yeah, he was a damn masochist, but who cared? If this was the only way he got to see the man, he’d take it.
A hand on his shoulder stopped him before he could slip behind an equipment case. He frowned as Vanessa drew him back. “XVI Hours is going to the hotel now. I need you all checked into your rooms and staying there for the night.”
Wait… what?
“The band’s going to the afterparty. I was just gonna—”
“No. I’m sorry, North, but you’re paying me to keep you safe. I need you to trust me.”
The old him would’ve told her to fuck off. Hell, after a few drinks he might be tempted still, but…he respected Vanessa. She wouldn’t be doing this if there wasn’t a reason.
He glanced back at the stage. The crew was still working. Tate was nowhere to be seen. And once they were at the hotel… There wasn’t another show for two days. Tate had gotten good at avoiding him on the bus . He’d even taken over Kace’s bunk.
North hunched his shoulders, feeling like the biggest loser for obsessing when he’d damn well known better than to let the man back in. His talk with Malakai had given him a purpose. He’d actually believed he just needed to wait it out and Tate would eventually open up.
Instead, he’d been iced out completely.
“North, I’m sorry. I know…” Vanessa paused, then shook her head. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
He shrugged, then followed her to where the rest of the band was waiting in the hall. They went through the back door and got into one of the big, black stretch hummers that they’d rented to bring them to the afterparty. A treat to celebrate their first leg of the tour.
At least they all got to be comfortable before they were sent to their rooms like naughty kids. He sighed and rested his head on Kace’s shoulder.
Then tipped up his chin and gave the man a devious smile. “Since we’re grounded, you wanna get some drinks and try that thing you asked me about that time?”
Kace’s cheeks went red. He looked over at Quinton and Orion, both who were purposefully ignoring them. Annette let out an irritated huff and gave North one of her ‘You’re being an asshole’ looks.
Screw them all, this time he wasn’t. He liked being around Kace. Sure, he’d avoided fucking him because he didn’t want to crush the one person who had his back, no matter what, but…maybe he could make things work between them. Make Kace happy.
“I…” Kace dropped his head back against the seat and groaned. “North, I love you, but we can’t .”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because…” Kace wet his lips with his tongue. “I’m…I’m doing my own thing. Nothing has to change between us, but…but we kept it that way because it worked. I’m here when you need comfort, but I’m not your fuck buddy. Don’t do that to me.”
Quinton let out a low whistle. “About fucking time you stand up for yourself.”
Stiffening, Kace quickly shook his head. “I’m not—I don’t need to. North gets it.”
Like hell I do. North eased away from Kace, feeling all eyes on him. Orion was closed off as always. Quinton looked pissed. And Annette just looked tired.
But what he noticed most was Kace. Kace who’d supported him for as long as he’d known the man, asking nothing in return. He’d accepted North’s touch, him talking dirty with no intention of following through because he was drunk and lonely. They’d gotten high together and fallen asleep in each other’s arms countless times, but sex never happened. It wasn’t needed.
No kind of commitment seemed needed either, but North knew the kind of man Kace was. Which was why he’d never messed with him. He couldn’t return Kace’s love, not the way he needed it, and the love he did have for his closest friend meant too much to gamble with.
That wouldn’t change because he was feeling vulnerable tonight.
What the fuck were you playing at, asshole? Fix this shit.
He patted Kace’s thigh. “I’m a fucking mess. Sorry about that. So you saying we’re not sharing a room?”
“No. I’m bunking with… Someone else.”
Now North was curious, but he wouldn’t press the man. Not when he’d already pulled his dick move of the night. Kace would tell him when he was ready. Once he trusted North to actually be a goddamn friend.
He wasn’t there yet, which was North’s fault.
The traffic was bad, which lengthened the awkward silence. Chewing on his bottom lip, North looked at Kace as his best friend shifted beside him. Then he put his head back on Kace’s shoulder.
“This still okay?”
Letting out a relieved sigh, Kace nodded and wrapped his arm around North. “Definitely.”
By the time they got to the hotel, North was too tired to care that he’d be alone for the rest of the night. He grabbed the backpack he brought along to every show, nodding when Vanessa passed him his keycard and said his suitcase had been left in his room. He got on the elevator, forced himself to remain conscious until he found the right room number, then got inside and dropped on the bed.
This was good. Perfect even. He could raid the liquor stash, pass out, and not have to worry about worrying anyone. Someone would probably come check his pulse sometime tomorrow, but until then he was a free man.
Drinking the tiny bottles of liquor made him feel even more pathetic, so he called room service and got himself a bottle of whiskey and a two-liter of Coke. He heard voices in the hall about twenty minutes later, then a knock. He opened the door, frowning when he saw Vanessa instead of one of the hotel employees. Sometimes, when the bands stayed at fancy hotels, the manager would stop by his room with a complimentary drink or some snacks. He’d kinda hoped this wouldn’t be one of those times, but he’d known he’d have to be pleasant to someone. Put on his best stage smile.
With Vanessa, that wasn’t needed. She handed over the tray and eyed him for a moment. “I mean it, North. You stay here. And next time, ask me or one of the roadies to bring what you need. No one who hasn’t been cleared is allowed in your rooms.”
He took the tray and set it on the table, hurrying back to the door before it could close, frowning as Vanessa turned to walk away. “I take it you’re not gonna tell me what the fuck happened to get us to Defcon 5?”
“I think you mean Defcon 2.” Vanessa shot him an amused look. “And you’ll be told what you need to know tomorrow.”
Nodding slowly, North hesitated before speaking again. “So Defcon 1 would be the worst then?”
She inclined her head. “Yes. At Defcon 1 I’d be dragging you all somewhere that no one could find you and I’d have failed at my damn job because you’d be in immediate danger.”
A chill crept down his spine. “We’re closer to that now though, aren’t we.”
Going still, she held his gaze for a moment. Her lips thinned. “Closer than I’d like to be, but we might have some recourse. So don’t be overly concerned, but it will be easier for me to handle this if I know exactly where all of you are and who’s around you.”
“Copy that.” He didn’t like that she was obviously keeping something from him, but he wasn’t about to make her job harder. “I’ll just be in here.” He nodded toward the table. “Getting shitfaced.”
Arching her brow with an unimpressed look on her face, she waited with her arms crossed over her chest until he backed into the room and closed the door. He went over to pour himself a drink, Vanessa’s expression stuck in the back of his mind stopping him from adding a double shot of whiskey.
Maybe he didn’t need to get stupid drunk. Just enough to take the edge off.
An hour later, nursing his second drink for so long the ice had melted, lazing in bed while some old romcom played on the TV, the lock to his door clicked. He froze as the door opened. Sitting up, his eyes widened as Tate came in, carrying his overnight bag.
The second Tate spotted him, his lips parted. Dropping his bag, he turned to the wall, banging his head against it while muttering to himself.
North rolled his eyes and slumped back on the bed. “Stop that, I’m watching a movie. If you got the wrong room just go fucking tell Jesse.”
Letting out a harsh laugh, Tate glared at him. “Like you didn’t plan this?”
With his eyes shut tight, North shook his head. Sure, he’d gone along with Brave’s plan to be around Tate more often by not getting XVI Hour’s bus back—not that they could’ve yet anyway—but hotel rooms? Nope. He wasn’t taking the credit, or blame, for that.
After a few moments of silence, North went back to watching his movie, paying more attention to it than he had before because he couldn’t deal with Tate being right there, acting like a stranger again. It fucking hurt too much and he was tired of it.
He stiffened when he sensed Tate coming closer, but refused to glance over, even when he felt Tate sit at the edge of the mattress. Reaching blindly for his drink on the nightstand at his other side, he tipped the glass to his lips and stared at the screen. He hadn’t been sure what the movie was at first, but after actually focusing for a bit, he had to bite back a laugh. Ten Things I Hate About You.
Cute, but the title sent a sharp jab into his stomach and he wasn’t sure if it was because he’d really liked Heath Ledger, or because the little voice in his head liked reminding him he deserved to be hated. He was a lowlife and karma had finally come for him.
“North…”
“ Don’t .” North hissed in a breath at the way his voice cracked. He kept his eyes on the TV. “This is my room. My bed. I’m fucking exhausted, man. Do what you gotta do.”
He expected to hear Tate stand and walk out. Get a room with one of the other guys if there were no vacancies. Instead, Tate shifted even closer. Leaned over him, blocking his view of the TV.
“I’m here now, North.” Tate put his hand on the center of North’s chest when he tried to sit up. “I’m here and I’m fucking sorry. I tried to make this easier and then I slipped up and made things worse. You were supposed to move on.”
The man was fucking hilarious. North locked his gaze with the one blue-grey eye and the eyepatch covering the other, grinding his teeth. “Move on? Like when I tried with the roadie?”
“I already apologized for that.”
“Yeah, you did. But you never admitted you did it because you don’t want me to move on. For whatever reason, you decided you don’t want me, but no one else can have me either.”
Tate blinked fast, shaking his head. “That’s not true.”
“Really? Then how about I go out into the hall, ask Vanessa to find you another room, and while she’s at it, get me a hooker. Hell, maybe two. You were upset because you work with Derrick, right?” North’s heart was pounding as he tried to sit up again and Tate held him down. “Problem solved.”
“But I’m here .” Tears wet Tate’s lashed. “I don’t have much time left to give you, but we have right now.”
The words hit North like a landslide spilling over him, rocks and mud knocking him right over and crushing his chest. This time he set Tate back so he could rise and cupped his cheek, hoping he was fucking wrong.
“What do you mean you ‘don’t have much time left’? Tate, are you sick or something? Or…fuck, you haven’t been thinking about…” North drew in a slow, calming breath. “Listen to me. However bad things are, you’ve got so many people who fucking love you. You don’t have to be ashamed of being in a bad place. You can talk to Ballz. Or…or we can find someone else and—”
“It’s nothing like that. Shit, I didn’t mean to make it sound like…” Tate closed his eyes and tears spilled down his cheeks. “I can’t tell you what’s going on and I know it’s making you worry. It’s making everyone worry. And it’s fucking killing me that I’m hurting everyone.”
“Then stop.”
“I. Can’t.” Tate bowed his head, trembling as North drew him close. Head on North’s shoulder, Tate spoke softly. “And yet, I can’t seem to get away from you. It’s like everyone sees you’re my one weakness and if we’re together I’ll finally give in. But I can’t.”
Whatever Tate was holding on to was serious, but it was a relief to know he wasn’t dying. That he didn’t want to hurt himself…though, he was hurting himself. It was driving North out of his mind to go from wanting to be there for the man he loved, then knowing he had to give him the space he’d demanded.
What the hell was he supposed to do?
“You pushed me away again after that phone call.” North grabbed Tate’s shoulders when he started to pull away. “Who were you talking to?”
Quickly shaking his head, Tate tried to jerk free. “No one. Let me go, North. I have to go. I shouldn’t be here, I—”
“Then go.” North let his hands fall to his sides. He was taking a big risk, but he couldn’t force Tate to be here, any more than he could force him to tell him or anyone what he was so fucking afraid of. But he could do the one thing he should’ve kept doing. The one thing he’d wanted to before giving in to his own self-doubts. “You know I love you. You know where to find me when you need me, however you need me. If it’s just to lay here and be quiet, I can do that. If it’s for more, all you have to do is ask.”
“Until the next time I freak out and tell you to get lost?”
North lifted his shoulders. “I don’t know. I’m trying, but I won’t lie to you. It fucking hurts when you push me away.”
“I wouldn’t have to if things could be like before.” Tate bit his bottom lip. “Nothing public or out in the open. When we’re alone…” His brow furrowed. “But no one can know we’re sharing rooms. Or…there has to be a way to keep that information private?”
Now Tate was talking fast and sounding both hopeful and even more afraid. Not knowing why was frustrating as fuck, but at least they were getting somewhere.
Going for as relaxed as he could pull off without another drink, North rested back against the headboard, Tate still half on his lap. “With the threats against Annette, security is tighter than ever. No one knows anything beyond what we let them see. If you’re more comfortable keeping whatever we do out of the public eye, I’m fine with that.”
Tate nodded slowly. “That would help. But you can’t look at me the way you do. You can’t stand too close. You…you have to pretend like I’m not even there.”
That sounded almost impossible, but as North thought back on the phone call, he remembered Annette nudging him playfully because fans were waiting outside a mall where they’d decided on a random stop to sign CDs and merch. He’d been standing there, watching Tate, wanting to go to him because he looked so upset. Cameras were flashing and one kid called out that he was doing a live video…
It had seemed like nothing at the time, and Vanessa hurried them inside because the point of it being a random stop was so Annette’s stalker wouldn’t know where they were until it was too late. But Tate’s expression had changed then. He’d moved even further away, to the point that Ballz had gone over, not close enough to overhear anything, but enough to make sure Tate was well guarded.
What if whoever Tate was talking to had been watching that video? Who though? Who could scare Tate that much?
His stomach turned as memories flashed through his mind.
“You’ve got some balls showing up here.” North lurched forward to wrap his hands around the man’s throat, but Connor blocked him. Struggling to get past the big guitarist, North practically snarled every word. “You’ve already hurt him once. You think we’re letting you near him again?”
The man’s eyes widened and he burst out laughing. “I think you won’t be able to stop me. It’s heartwarming though, you being so protective. It’s going to kill you to see Tate with me. To know that sweet ass he let you use is all mine.”
In a swift motion, Connor jerked the man away from the wall and slammed him back into it as his control snapped. “You won’t be able to get near him if you’re in a body bag.”
“Are you going to kill me, Connor?” The man’s brow lifted. “Does the idea of me fucking that little slut piss you off that much? Did he ever beg you to fuck him? Because he begged me.”
Connor blinked. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Tate knows me. He’s known me for years.” The man’s lips slid into a cold smile. “Fifteen years old and begging for my cock. That tight little ass was hard to resist.”
That man had wanted Connor to hit him. He’d known exactly what buttons to push. The cops got there fast. Way too fast for what must have seemed like just a fight to anyone watching. And after all he’d said, after making sure both Connor and North were locked up, the man changed his story out of nowhere and admitted to starting the fight.
Even with his confession it had taken a few weeks for the prosecutor to decide not to press charges, and to settle with making them leave the country. Getting out of jail had been a relief, but North had been crushed over Tate not being excited to see him, not wanting to talk to him, not accepting his calls…
He’d figured he’d fucked up. That he was too much trouble for Tate to want to keep their relationship going. Then Tate’s words at the wedding reception changed his whole perspective. He’d taken everything Tate said to heart. And why not? How many times had he told someone the good time they had wasn’t that serious?
Including Annette.
But there’d been more to it. Tate didn’t just cut him off. He’d cut off everyone in his life who he was close to. No one had known where he was. Or who he was with.
The man had bragged about abusing Tate as a teenager. Had broken Tate’s arm and damaged his eye in an attempt to grab him. Had shown up during the tour and when North had asked who he was…
“No one.”
The man knew Tate well. He’d known exactly how to get to him.
“It’s going to kill you to see Tate with me. To know that sweet ass he let you use is all mine.”
North inhaled, but he couldn’t get in any air. It was like he’d swallowed cement and it was slowly solidifying in his throat.
“Jesus, Tate. What did you do?”