9
Phoenix
The room buzzed with energy, the kind that wrapped around you and squeezed until you couldn’t breathe. I stood by the window, watching the party unfold from a distance, feeling like a foreigner in my own skin. We were in Montana for a few shows, and after each one, it had been the same scene: the band dragging the after-party back to their hotel suite, turning the place into a den of indulgence. Every single night. It was exhausting.
On one hand, I should’ve been relieved. At least I didn’t have to chase them around town, hopping between bars and clubs. And I didn’t have to share a room with any of them at this hotel, thank God. But even knowing that, all I could think about was how tired I was. Tired of the noise, the temptation, the relentless pressure to “let loose.”
The alcohol flowed freely, groupies clung to the band’s side, and the line between fun and recklessness blurred more with each passing second. I hugged my arms close, leaning against the glass as if it might provide some barrier between me and my thoughts. My skin prickled with unease, nerves strung tight as I tried to keep my focus anywhere but on the drinks being passed around. Each clink of a glass, each slurred laugh, tugged at something dark inside me, an itch that refused to be scratched.
“Hey, Phoenix!”
Zephyr’s voice cut through the noise. He lounged on the couch, a drink in hand, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “Why are you all the way over there? C’mon, join the party.”
“I’m good here, thanks.”
Parker, sitting beside him, raised an eyebrow. “Good?”
he echoed, his voice dripping with challenge. “You call standing over there ‘good’? You’re missing all the fun, Sweetheart.”
I tensed at the nickname. My mouth was dry, and I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze to the floor as if that might make me invisible.
Zephyr leaned forward, his grin widening as he picked up a glass from the table and pushed it toward me. “C’mon, just one drink. Loosen up.”
“No, thanks,”
I said, my voice steady, but inside I was trembling. The temptation gnawed at me, sharp and relentless. I could already taste it—the burn of alcohol sliding down my throat, the warmth spreading through my veins. But I knew where that road led, and I couldn’t—wouldn’t—go back there.
Parker laughed, the low sound sending shivers down my spine. “What’s the harm, huh? We’re not your PR team. No one’s watching. You can have some fun for once.”
I forced my eyes up, meeting his gaze. There was something in his expression—something almost predatory, like he was daring me, pushing me to cross that line. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms to keep me grounded. “I don’t drink,”
I said, more firmly this time.
Zephyr exchanged a glance with Parker, amusement flickering in their eyes. They loved this—loved pushing my buttons. They didn’t understand how hard it was. They couldn’t. To them, it was just a game, but for me, it was survival.
Parker leaned back, his smirk never fading. “What are you afraid of? One drink isn’t gonna kill you.”
I exhaled slowly, willing the tension to ease from my body. “I’m not afraid,”
I muttered, though the words tasted like a lie. “I just don’t want it.”
The room felt too small, the walls closing in around me. My pulse pounded in my ears, the urge to escape growing stronger with every second. I needed to get out—away from the smell of whiskey and the sound of clinking glasses, away from the temptation to make everything more manageable with just a sip.
I should’ve been thrilled we were nearly done here in Montana—just one more show, then off to South Dakota—but it didn’t stop the exhaustion creeping into my bones. We’d have a week off in South Dakota. A whole week of peace. No parties. No booze. No temptation. I’d get to sleep in my own bed and get some space, something I craved more than anything right now.
“I’m going to head to bed,”
I said, my voice strained, already turning toward the door.
Parker’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist as I went to walk past them. His touch was light, but it stopped me cold. “Why the rush?”
he asked, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. “You don’t have to leave, Priss. No one’s expecting you to be perfect all the time.”
I pulled my hand free, the contact sending a jolt through me. “I know that,”
I snapped, harsher than I intended. “I just… I can’t.”
For a moment, the room seemed to still. Parker’s eyes softened, just for a heartbeat, but then his smirk returned. He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, your call. But you know… there are other ways we could have fun, too.”
The words hung in the air, twisting something inside me. My mind screamed at me to leave, but my feet felt rooted to the floor, trapped between the pull of the past and the strength it took to resist. I couldn’t let them see how much I was struggling, couldn’t let them know how close I was to losing control.
I took a deep breath and met their eyes, forcing the tremor out of my voice. “‘I’ll see you in the morning,”
I said quietly.
Zephyr’s grin widened, and Parker just chuckled, leaning back into the couch. “See you then, Princess.”
I turned on my heel and walked out. The moment the door clicked shut behind me, the flood of relief nearly brought me to my knees. One more show. Then I’d be free—for a little while.
◆◆◆
The bus was quiet for once. A rare, almost eerie kind of peace settled over everything in the early morning light. The blinds were drawn, casting long shadows across the narrow space, and the usual raucous energy that clung to the band was absent. Probably because everyone was passed out in their hotel rooms after the chaos of last night’s show in South Dakota. Everyone except for Zephyr.
I could feel him watching me from the living area as I packed my things, shoving clothes into my duffel with more force than necessary. His gaze burned into my back, but I refused to look at him, even though the tension between us felt like a wire pulled too tight, ready to snap at any second.
I zipped up the bag, mentally cursing. Thank God I was leaving today. After this week, I wouldn’t have to deal with him or the rest of them for a while. I’d have time to breathe. Time to get my head on straight before the tour picked up again.
“You’re really leaving, huh?”
Zephyr’s voice broke through the silence, slurred just slightly. He wasn’t drunk, not completely, but he wasn’t sober either. His tone had that lazy drawl to it, the one that always rubbed me the wrong way.
I didn’t bother turning around. “Yeah. We have the week off. I’m taking full advantage.”
His expression didn’t shift, but something sharp flashed in his eyes. “Did you grab your stuff from the bathroom?”
I hesitated, thrown by the question. “Yeah, I already packed it. Why?”
Zephyr shrugged, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. “Just making sure you don’t leave anything behind. Wouldn’t want you using it as an excuse to come back.”
I froze, hands still resting on the zipper of my bag. Slowly, I turned to face him, narrowing my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Zephyr lounged against the small kitchenette, with one arm braced on the counter as he sipped from a bottle of something. Whiskey, probably. His dark eyes were sharp despite the alcohol.
“I fully intend to have you fired by the end of the week.”
I froze. The world seemed to slow as the words sank in. Fired.
“You can’t just—”
I sputtered, barely able to get the words out. “You can’t fire me. You don’t have the power to—”
“Oh, but I do.”
His voice was cutting now, final.
His words hit harder than they should have. I bit my lip, the urge to snap back rising in my chest. “What the hell’s your problem?”
Zephyr took another step forward, getting into my space, his presence overwhelming. “You are, Phoenix. You’re my problem.”
I clenched my jaw, fists still tight at my sides. “Your label won’t let you continue without a PR fixer.”
“Oh, I know they won’t,”
he shot back, his voice low and venomous. “But it doesn’t have to be you. You’re a liability, a damn burden on all of us. I tried to let you leave on your own. But I’m done. You’re out of here. I’ll make sure of it.”
His eyes locked onto mine, the heat in the air between us almost suffocating. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. It was like everything inside me had frozen in place, caught in the storm of his words and his presence.
I finally tore my gaze away, grabbing my duffel bag from the bed and slinging it over my shoulder. “This is ridiculous.”
Zephyr didn’t move, didn’t say anything else as I headed for the door, but I could feel his eyes on me—sharp, knowing.
“Enjoy your extended time off, Phoenix,”
he called after me.
I didn’t stop.
I stormed out of the bus, slamming the door behind me, my chest tight with anger and frustration. I didn’t even know what I was feeling anymore—whether it was the sting of his words or the overwhelming need to just escape.
All I knew was I couldn’t breathe in that damn bus anymore. Not with him in there. Not with the way any of my scent matches were treating me.