Chapter 47
ELLIE
The sound of birds chirping wakes me. My eyes slowly open. I slept so soundly, I don’t even remember falling asleep. I turn over, and the sight next to me knocks the breath from my lungs. Travis is stretched out, his hand draped across my hip, with Cinnamon lying next to his head.
My throat gets tight, chest caving in.
Oh no.
A familiar feeling snakes its way through me. Uh-uh. Not happening.
Get out of me, demons.
I carefully roll off the bed and tiptoe to the bathroom. Shutting the door quietly, I lean against it, trying to control my racing heartbeat. It was cute, that’s all. Seeing Travis with Cinnamon does something to my insides. I find it attractive—big deal.
Maybe my feelings have been teetering lately. Edging very closely to something more than friendly concern and desperate horniness. I care about him, but I cannot, absolutely cannot, fall for Travis.
His walls are too high. It’s an attraction, nothing more.
My head falls back against the door. Relationships, or the thought of relationships, normally make me run for the hills.
I don’t stick around long enough to get attached to someone.
But if I’m being honest, I always felt a stronger pull toward him.
One that is getting harder and harder to ignore. Even stronger after last night.
I wasn’t really going to not let him come.
I just wanted to tease him a bit. Make him suffer.
But him coming in his pants…just from watching me.
That was incredibly hot. The look on his face when he thought I wanted to peg him was priceless.
I’m not into that, but I think he was actually considering it. Just for me.
I move to the sink, splash some cold water on my face, and brush my teeth. Surely, I can stay strong for a few more weeks. Then we’ll see each other less, and my feelings will wither away over time. Easy peasy.
Pulling my hair up in a bun, I exit the bathroom, staying quiet since he’s still asleep.
I throw on some leggings and a T-shirt. If I know Travis, and I think I do, he’ll be freaked out when he wakes up. We’ve spent the night together, but not like this. All cuddled up in bed like a family.
I scribble a note on the pad sitting on the nightstand, take one last glimpse at them, and then slip out. I’m making my way down the hall to the elevator when I run into Penn. I paste on a wide smile. “Good morning!”
He lifts his chin. “Have you seen Travis? He never came back to the room last night, and he’s not answering his phone.”
My first instinct is to lie. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea, but he sounds worried.
“He’s in my room, asleep. We passed out watching a movie,” I rush out.
After he watched me fuck myself with a six-inch dildo.
His face remains blank, and he simply nods.
“I was going to get some coffee and breakfast. Do you want anything?” I ask.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Ok. I’ll see you later.”
He heads back toward his room. I take the elevator to the lobby and exit the hotel.
It’s pretty crazy there are only twelve more shows left on this tour. One day it feels like we’ve been gone two years, and some days it feels like two days. Time doesn’t exist here like it does at home. Everything blurs together.
I order myself and Travis breakfast and coffee. It smells divine, and my stomach rumbles. I’d say I’m tired of eating out constantly, but that would be a lie. This is the norm for me at home, too. I can’t cook for shit.
Even though I brought Travis breakfast, I half expected him to be gone when I got back to my room.
Yet, he’s here, sprawled out across the bed on his side, head propped up on his hand, dangling the mouse on a stick toy I got Cinnamon.
My steps falter in the doorway. He glances up.
My expression must mirror a deer in headlights because he frowns as he takes in my face.
I manage a smile, holding up the goods. “Hungry?”
He shakes his head, his jaw going tight. See? He’s freaking out.
He rattles the toy again, then lets Cinnamon have it. She takes off to the end of the bed, wrestling it as if it’s a real mouse she’s trying to trap. I sit on the bed and hand him his coffee and burrito, but he taps his phone.
“What?”
He holds the screen up for me, and I see our message thread. I didn’t even take my phone with me when I left.
When I read the message, I gasp. “You lost your voice!?”
His lips thin, eyes turning hard. Anger and fear are evident all over his face. He clears his throat and opens his mouth. “I-gah-dam—” His voice is so raw it pains me.
“Ok, don’t panic,” I say as I’m internally freaking the fuck out. What are we going to do? They have a show in less than thirty hours. I grab my phone off the table and start googling remedies and doctors near our next stop in Detroit.
His head flops back on the pillow with force, and he lets out a strangled growl.
“Don’t strain your voice!”
He kicks his feet, pouting.
“I’m going to text Caleb and see if he has any tips.”
Google is full of crazy remedies that guarantee they’ll have you back to normal in less than eight hours. Somehow, I doubt that’s true.
Travis’s head jerks around, and his brows lower as he scowls at me.
“What?”
He holds up his phone and nods to mine. I stare at him as he types away. A moment later, the message comes through.
Travis:
Why do you have Caleb’s number??
“Seriously?” His brow arches, and I huff.
“In case you forgot, we were on the same bus when you so kindly kicked me off yours!” The teeniest bit of remorse passes over his face.
“I have the phone number for everyone involved in this tour. I’m the PR manager, too, remember?
” He nods curtly. “Great, so let me do my job.”
The next thirty minutes pass in a blur. I stayed on the phone while Travis paced the room.
He tried busying himself with Cinnamon, but he’s too agitated.
Caleb had some suggestions, but mainly, he said he needed a doctor.
I found one within a few miles of the next venue and set up the appointment for the first thing tomorrow morning when we arrive.
I’ve DoorDashed a humidifier, a case of water, tea, and apple juice.
The internet swore by warming up apple juice.
Not sure how he’s going to feel about that one.
I also ordered a variety of fruits, veggies, and nuts.
Getting proper nutrients was big on how to restore your voice and overall health.
He hasn’t been eating well. He’s barely eating at all.
This could very well be a mix of that and the drugs, but I’m no doctor.
“My order will be here in a few minutes. We have to board the bus in an hour. I texted Penn and asked him to pack your stuff.” Travis nods along as I go on. “The first thing you need to do is drink water and rest. Try to sleep while we’re on the road. Do you still have your sleeping pills?”
His jaw clenches, and he rolls his eyes. I’m tempted to call his ass out about his Adderall problem, but he can’t talk and I want to hear what he has to say for himself. Not that there’s any excuse.
Once my things arrive, I stuff Cinnamon in my purse, and we exit the hotel. As soon as we step on the bus, my skin prickles with awareness. Tension fills the air, thick and heavy.
“How ya feeling, buddy?” Liam asks him as we lug our stuff down the hall. Travis shakes his head, and Liam pats his shoulder. “It’s going to be ok.” Liam looks at me, almost like he wants my reassurance, so I smile. It doesn’t feel very convincing, even to me.
This is bad. Bad for the band, worse for Travis. Penn can sing, I know that. They know that.
I think it’ll kill a small piece of his best friend if he has to.