Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Wynter
Ross is waiting when I get to the airport in Vancouver and he presses his lips firmly to mine when I reach him. There’s a possessiveness to his touch that thrills me and I lean against him happily.
“I’m so glad I’m here,” I whisper.
“Me too.” His lips find mine again, kissing me chastely but repeatedly, like he can’t get enough.
“We should continue this at the hotel,” I say with a chuckle.
“Sadly, we have to head straight to the arena for soundcheck. But I’ll make it up to you later.”
“I know you will.” I slide my hand into his and we head for baggage claim to retrieve my two large suitcases. It’s not like I’ve come for the weekend—this trip is for the foreseeable future.
My bags come out quickly and Ross wheels them out to the waiting Uber while I follow with my carry-ons.
I didn’t realize how much stuff I use on a daily basis until I tried to pack it all.
Not just clothes, but shoes and toiletries and little comforts like candles and my resistance bands.
Things that are just part of my life. Reducing them to two large and one small suitcase was challenging.
Hopefully, I won’t think of anything I forgot that I can’t live without for a few months.
“I already had an interview,” I tell Ross as we head for the arena. “With a travel nurse agency.”
“Yeah?” He glances at me.
“They’ll let me start whenever I’m ready, so I don’t have to worry about money.”
He nods, though he doesn’t say anything.
“You okay?” I ask after a moment.
“Just thinking about the show,” he says, doing something on his phone. “Pete’s sick so I’m doing double-duty tonight.”
“Oh, shit. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I’ll let you know. Kingston is actually going to step in since, you know, he can’t sing a lot but he’s perfectly healthy.”
“How’s that going?” I ask casually.
“It’s good. The specialist told him he’s healing but it’s going to take time because he’s still singing a few songs every show. If he wants to heal faster, he should stop singing altogether.”
“But he’s not going to.”
“People spend a lot of money to see the band—and he’s part of the draw. He’s been really good, though. He only sings two songs, both lower registers, and then two more songs where he does background vocals. The rest of the time he’s on piano or acoustic guitar.”
“And how are you doing?” I squeeze his hand. “Does it still feel like you don’t belong out there?”
His smile is soft, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“I really don’t know the answer to that question.
I’m comfortable with the band, both personally and musically, but it’s not my band.
I’m hired help. So, the applause is for me but not really.
The accolades include me but I can’t take credit because other than one song at the end of the night, it’s not my music. ”
“Well, if you look at it that way, no cover band should ever get applause or make money. No one should ever do a cover. I mean, is that what you think?”
“Of course not. I just…it’s not my music. And in the case of your fictional cover band, the only reason they’re making money is because they’re playing ‘Stairway to Heaven’ or some other hit that someone else wrote. If they could write their own stuff, they would.”
“Is that really what you think?” I ask. “That singing someone else’s songs makes you less of a musician? Less talented? Do you think Onyx Knight feel less talented when they play your song?”
“Could we not have this conversation now?” he asks, his tone suddenly sharp and filled with annoyance.
I arch my brows. “Really? We’re thirty minutes into living together and you’re already snapping at me?
” I haven’t been in a relationship in a long time so I’m not the kind of woman who plays games.
I’ve been on my own too long for that. If he does something I don’t like, I’m not going to sit and stew.
He sighs, pulling in a breath and then letting it out. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot on my plate. I don’t mean to take it out on you.” He brings my hand to his lips and presses them to the inside of my wrist. “Don’t mind me. I can be short-tempered sometimes.”
“Same.” I snuggle closer to him. “I’m a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of woman. I won’t pussyfoot around things. If you piss me off, I’m going to say something.”
“As you should. I’m trying to wrap my head around everything going on, what direction I should take, shit like that, and I’m torn. I guess I’m more frustrated than I realized.”
“Then we should talk about it,” I suggest gently.
“And we will. But it’s too much to start now.
I have to think about the show. There are a handful of things I have to take care of since Pete’s in bed.
And then I have to put on a performance.
Tonight, or maybe after a good night’s sleep, we can hash it all out, okay? And really—I didn’t mean to snap.”
“I forgive you.” I reach out and put my hand on the side of his face. “But if we’re going to do this, we have to be able to talk about everything—good and bad. You know?”
“I may have forgotten what it’s like to be in a relationship,” he admits, letting his head fall back against the seat. “It’s been a really long time, babe.”
“For me too. And for all intents and purposes, we just moved in together. We need to be on the same page.”
“I know.” He kisses my wrist again. “We will be. I promise.”
The show is late getting started because of a technical issue to do with the lighting, so it runs late too.
We’re all exhausted by the time we get back to the hotel and I’m asleep the moment my head touches the pillow.
And when I wake up in the morning, Ross is gone.
There’s a note on his pillow telling me he had to go sign for a shipment and that he’ll be back soon.
I’m not upset, just a little disappointed, so I decide to splurge and order a continental breakfast from room service. If Ross gets back, we can share. If not, I’ll save anything that’s left for later.
The only weird thing about being on tour like this will be not cooking.
I actually like to cook, and eating out all the time gets expensive.
Onyx Knight provides dinner for everyone before every show.
But that’s only one meal and it’s usually four nights a week, though some weeks are busier than others.
That leaves a lot of meals to make up on my own.
I’m not a big fan of breakfast—unless it’s for dinner—so I can get through the day with protein bars and maybe some fresh fruit.
It’s just a hassle to find grocery stores, shop, and then carry everything from one place to the next.
We’re flying from city to city now, and our luggage is handled by the crew, but I can’t have a banana if it’s packed in a baggage compartment somewhere.
I’m scrolling my phone, thinking about food, and sipping my coffee when I see a notification on social media.
Onyx Knight Fill-In Vocalist Offered Deal with Hart Records.
There’s a record deal?!
What deal?
I scan the article and read about how there’s an offer on the table for a brand-new Ross Rockit tour and album. I knew about the possibility of opening for Onyx Knight, but he never mentioned an album.
What in the world?
Is this what he’s been stressed about?
But more importantly, why didn’t he say anything?
Instinctively, I understand that putting out a new album involves a huge amount of risk.
Not just financial, but also emotional. Professional.
He hasn’t written or performed his own music in nearly two decades.
It would be natural for him to be afraid that a new album would flop.
That he would look and feel like a failure. Not just to himself but to me.
I feel a prickle of guilt because I’ve always been so excited about anything to do with Ross & the Rock-its. He might even feel like he’d be letting me down if he decides not to do the album.
And that’s the furthest thing from the truth.
Now his attitude while we were in the Uber makes more sense.
I’m not surprised that he’s nervous to take a leap of faith, but at this early stage of our relationship, I need to find a way to help him figure out what’s going to make him happy—as opposed to what might make me happy.
I can’t be selfish.
Not with Ross.
He’s already been through so much.
I’m not going to be the reason he does something he doesn’t want to do.
Even if it makes my own life harder.