Chapter 24
twenty-four
. . .
CONNOR
I’m twenty minutes early to the Rising Tides caravan meet-up spot, which is either a sign of personal growth or proof that I didn’t trust myself to show up exactly on time and act normal after that photo shoot yesterday.
No, I definitely need more time to prepare before I see Whitney again.
I lean back in the driver’s seat, one arm hooked over the steering wheel, and immediately make the mistake of replaying it anyway—like if I run it back enough times, I might land on a version where I handled any of that differently.
Whitney under the lights, looking at me like she wanted to simultaneously kiss me and strangle me. Then, stepping into my space like she was daring me to do something about it.
And then me, almost doing it.
I scrub a hand over my mouth and let out a slow breath. “Yeah. Great plan.”
Because that’s exactly what this tour needs.
Me, one bad decision away from blowing it.
Rising Tides is supposed to be squeaky clean. Controlled. Good press, good optics, no drama. That’s the whole point. That’s why Vivi pushed for it. Why Leo signed off on it. Why I said yes in the first place.
Keep it simple. Keep it steady. Don’t give anyone a reason to question whether I belong here.
And then there’s Whitney.
How I feel about her isn’t simple. And definitely not something I trust myself to handle halfway.
I glance out the windshield again, jaw tightening slightly.
I already screwed that up. I had one shot to be honest with her before any of this started, and I didn’t take it.
Now we have ten days on tour together, and there’s no avoiding each other. No space to let things settle between us.
And after yesterday’s photo shoot, it’s clear she’s still running hot. I don’t blame her, but I also don’t know what she needs.
And I can’t mess this up again. Not with her.
My phone buzzes in the cup holder, saving me from another spiral.
Logan
You alive, Fisk?
Charlie
More importantly, how’s your asshole?
I hate that this is now a valid check-in question.
Logan
We were concerned.
Charlie
Medically
Logan
Emotionally
Charlie
But also aesthetically
My ass and I are both recovering. Thank you for your invasive support.
Charlie
Proud of you.
Logan
Brave little toaster.
Never call me that again.
Charlie
He’s sensitive now.
Charlie
You already on the road?
Not yet. But I’m twenty minutes early to the caravan meet-up
Logan
Wow, the waxed change him
Charlie
Smooth outside, punctual inside
Logan
Also, we’re going to miss you.
Charlie
Speak for yourself
Logan
Charlie is going to miss you.
Charlie
Unfortunately, yes
Touching, but slightly alarming.
Charlie
Who else is going to make Rory look like he’s smelling rotten food every time you walk into a room?
Logan
Honestly your service to team tension has been invaluable.
Glad to know my emotional discomfort has value.
Charlie
Very high value
Logan
There’s a strong market demand.
I stare at the screen, and despite myself, something in my chest eases.
It’s stupid. They’re giving me shit. That’s all this is. Logan and Charlie have never met a sincere feeling they couldn’t beat to death with a joke and a bad emoji.
But they checked in.
Which is not the same as being in, obviously. I know that. The Carolina Current guys have years of history, inside jokes, and team dinners I haven’t been a part of, but this feels like something. Maybe a shoulder through the door.
My thumb hovers over the screen before I type back.
I met a woman named Blair Young at the photoshoot yesterday, she knows you guys.
Charlie
OH NO
Logan
Delete this.
Why?
Logan
You just said the B-word.
Blair?
Charlie
HE SAID IT AGAIN!
Logan
Thank god Eli isn’t on this chain
Did she boss him around at a photoshoot too?
Charlie
Worse.
Logan
They dated.
Charlie
Five years ago.
Logan
But he’s over it.
Charlie
So over it he once left a room because someone ordered Blair’s favorite hot sauce.
That feels…not over it.
Logan
Congratulations, you’re caught up
Charlie
And this is why you’re not ready for the main chat
There’s a main chat?
Logan
Not for you, there isn’t.
Charlie
Earn your floaties, Fisk
I glance over the text thread, caught somewhere between entertained and mildly concerned.
So, Blair isn’t just the woman from the photoshoot with the don’t-test-me smile.
She’s history. Complicated history. And apparently the kind everyone else knows better than to bring up within a mile of Eli.
Logan and Charlie could’ve let me step on that land mine in front of him. Instead, they warned me. With the subtlety of a starter pistol, but still, it feels good to be let in.
By the time I look up again, the lot is fully in motion. The Rising Tides van is parked a few spots over with both back doors open, people moving in and out with gear, coolers, garment bags—all of it happening at once in that chaotic-but-somehow-functional way these things always do.
Then, I see her.
Sunglasses on. Hair up. Expression neutral enough that if I didn’t know better, I’d think yesterday never happened.
She swings her suitcase into the back of the van, gives it a shove to make room for someone else’s bag, then steps back just as Tate, the Rising Tides operations director, appears. Next to her is Ronica, the social media manager.
I watch the shift in her face when she greets them—easy, bright, like this is exactly where she’s supposed to be. Because it is.
Whitney wanted this. And me being part of it complicates things.
I push that thought aside before it settles too deep and step out of my car.
“Perfect timing,” Tate says as I approach the three of them. “You’re both here—great.”
Whitney turns slightly.
I can’t see her eyes behind the sunglasses, but I feel it anyway—that awareness snapping into place the second I’m in her orbit.
“Quick rundown before we roll,” Ronica says, efficient but not rushed. “Van’s heading out first. We’ll meet in Savannah tonight, then tomorrow’s the meet and greet and clinic.”
Whitney nods like she already knows the drill. “Got it.”
“If you grab anything along the way—behind-the-scenes, travel day stuff—we’ll use it,” Ronica adds. “Nothing formal. Just whatever feels natural.”
Whitney’s mouth tilts slightly. “So…my usual chaos.”
Ronica smiles. “Exactly. Your energy is fun. People love that.”
There’s a split second where Whitney’s expression doesn’t change at all.
Too still.
Then she nods like it’s nothing. “Easy.”
Ronica turns to me. “And Connor—”
Here it comes.
“Just keep doing what you’ve been doing,” she says. “Be steady. Grounded. It plays well.”
I almost laugh.
Whitney’s version is chaos.
Mine is…containment.
“Yeah,” I say. “I can do that.”
“Great,” Tate cuts in, already looking past us to something else that needs her attention. “Van’s rolling in a minute.”
As the group disperses, Whitney doesn’t look at me, she just gestures vaguely toward the gas station. “Bathroom,” she says, like it’s a general announcement, and disappears inside before anything else can be said.
I watch her go for a second longer than I should.
Then my phone buzzes. It’s Vivi.
I dropped Pussy off at her place an hour ago. If she’s texting me, it means she’s still alive.
Vivi
Your cat just looked me dead in the eyes and knocked her food off the counter. On purpose.
A laugh slips out before I can stop it as I drop my gaze to the screen.
She’s going through something.
Vivi
Yeah. It’s called being a menace.
That feels dramatic.
Vivi
She hissed at me when I tried to fix it. I don’t think I’m safe here.
I lean back against the car, thumbs moving automatically.
You’ll survive. Just don’t make eye contact.
Vivi
I live here, Connor. That feels like an unreasonable ask.
My mouth twitches.
Across the lot, the van doors are still open. Someone shuts one. Another bag gets tossed inside.
Vivi
Also, Leo says don’t make him do damage control this week. He sounded very calm about it, which is how I know he’s not.
That feels like a threat.
Vivi
It’s a loving suggestion.
I glance up briefly, tracking movement without really processing it. The second van door shuts. Someone climbs into the front seat.
You’re both very supportive.
Vivi
We believe in you. Just…maybe make choices that reflect that.
I huff under my breath.
Vivi
Are you with Whitney yet?
My thumb pauses for half a second.
Not because I don’t have an answer.
Because I do.
And it’s not one I know what to do with.
Across the lot, the engine turns over.
We’re about to head out.
Vivi
Be normal.
I am normal.
Vivi
Connor.
I can practically hear the look she’d be giving me.
The sound of tires on pavement pulls my attention back up.
The van is already moving toward the exit.
Ronica waves to me from the passenger seat. “See you in Savannah!”
For a second, everything feels normal, then I remember Whitney’s suitcase is in the van, and she went in the gas station, but I never saw her come back out.
A moment later, Whitney jogs out of the gas station, sunglasses pushed up into her hair as she scans the lot, and then stops.
Her gaze lands on the empty space where the van had been, then it snaps to me.
I see the moment it hits.
Confusion first. Then annoyance. Then something sharper underneath it that I recognize a little too well.
I push off the car, already moving before she says anything.
“Where’d the van go?” she asks.
“It left.”
“What?” she says, sharper now. “But it was my ride.”
I glance past her, like the van might reappear just because she’s willing it to.
But it doesn’t.
What does materialize is the realization that it’s just us now.
No team. No crew. No one else in the space between us.
Just me, five hours of road, and the woman all my emotions are tangled up in.
Fucking fantastic.
I yank open the passenger side door before I can overthink it.
“Looks like you’re with me now.”
The words come out easy, like this is just logistics.
But my body knows it’s not. I can already feel the shift settling in. The awareness that is going to have me on the edge of my seat for the next three hundred and some minutes.
Whitney gives me one last sharp look—measured, assessing, like she’s deciding exactly how much of this she’s going to let bother her—before dropping into the passenger seat.
Once she’s inside, I close the door. The sound echoes with finality.
For a second, I just stand there, hand still on the frame, then I round the front of the car and get in.
And just like that, things got a whole lot more complicated.