Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dean
Problems
Aerosmith & YUNGBLUD
Memphis ends the way good things always do. Too fast. Too quiet. With a clock tapping its damn foot in the corner. We’re in the hotel lobby before sunrise, a tight little cluster of road cases we didn’t pack ourselves and coffee we desperately need.
The crew already drove the buses down yesterday, which means we’re flying like civilians today, and I don’t know why that feels worse than load-in. Maybe because airports are full of people noticing things. Maybe it’s because I’m full of things I don’t want noticed.
Sadie walks in right on time. She’s wearing leggings and a thin tee, hair in a messy knot, sunglasses perched on her head because even at this hour she’s still Sadie.
She looks like sleep didn’t touch her, but her eyes are clear, awake in a way that makes me feel seen even when she isn’t looking at me.
When she does look at me, it’s quick. Careful. Not avoiding. Just measuring my mood.
Last night was quiet. In the best way. We ate takeout upstairs with everyone, laughed at Mikey getting burped on by Larkin, watched Lily fall asleep mid-sentence with her head on Luc’s shoulder.
It was normal. It was warm. Then it ended and the hallways got silent and I didn’t go knocking on Sadie’s door.
Not because I didn’t want to. Because I did.
Way too much. I’m still feeling the kiss from Graceland like it left a bruise on my mouth.
Like if I check my pulse, it’s stamped right there.
I should’ve been able to play it off by now.
I’ve played off everything my whole life.
But for some reason, I can’t play this one off.
“Morning,” Hayden mutters, dragging his suitcase over the marble like it personally offended him.
Mikey looks half alive, hoodie pulled up, yawning. “I swear to God, whoever invented morning flights can fight me.”
Luc rolls his eyes with a fond smile. “You’ll survive baby brother.”
Lily comes down last with Larkin tucked into a carrier, the baby’s cheeks round and warm and asleep against her chest. She looks tired, happy, unbreakable. Luc goes to her immediately, kisses her temple, adjusts the carrier strap like he’s done it a thousand times.
Family. Tour family. Real family. All of it blurring into something that makes my throat tighten. Sadie steps in close to say hi to Lily and Larkin. Lily smiles at her like she knows exactly what happened yesterday and still won’t say a word unless Sadie asks.
I catch Sadie’s mouth curve as she coos at Larkin. Something deep in me eases. Then I remember I’m not allowed to be eased. I’m supposed to be hard, unyielding. And I sigh because truly, it’s not what I want anymore. But I’m not sure how to be anything else after so long.
We move as a pack through the hotel doors to the waiting vans. The driver checks a list and waves us in like we’re on a school field trip. Sadie ends up beside me without either of us choosing it. It just happens the way breathing happens.
Her shoulder brushes mine on the seat. I swear to God my whole body feels it. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move away. She just settles, hands folded in her lap, gaze on the waking city out the window like she’s giving me space to be normal.
I don’t know how to be normal with her. Quiet stretches between us, but it’s not awkward. It’s loaded. New. The kind of quiet that comes after a kiss you can’t forget. I try for normal and clear my throat. “You sleep?”
She glances over and shrugs. “A little.”
“Good.”
A beat.
Her voice is soft. “You?”
I almost laugh. Almost say do I ever? But her question isn’t casual. Its care disguised as conversation. “Yeah,” I lie automatically.
She studies me for one cruel second like she knows the lie is there and decides not to expose it. “Cool.”
We fall quiet again until we pull up to the airport and I’m immediately reminded why I hate these places more than I should.
Too bright. Too open. Too many eyes. Every hallway feels like a stage you didn’t rehearse for.
We get through security with minimal chaos, though Mikey tries to argue about his drumsticks being “sacred objects.” TSA does not care.
Sadie and I drift into the same line, the same tray station.
She sets her bag down and I realize she’s wearing the same necklace she wore yesterday.
A tiny silver camera. My throat tightens like an idiot.
Graceland memory tries to crawl up my spine.
Her mouth on mine. Her hands on my chest. The way she breathed when I kissed her, like she’d been waiting without expecting anything.
I probably shouldn’t have done it, but I’m glad I did.
Her shoes go into a bin. She steps toward the scanner. I step after her. The line funnels us into closeness we haven’t had since the bike ride. I feel her in front of me like heat.
“Dean.” Her voice is low as she turns just a fraction.
“What?”
“I’m okay,” she states matter-of-factly. “About everything.”
The words hit too close to my ribs. “Okay…” I manage.
She doesn’t smile. She just holds my gaze briefly, like she’s letting me know she’s not breaking, not angry, not trying to make me pay. And, that’s the worst part about this. I don’t know how to fight someone who doesn’t come at me with weapons.
We clear security, regroup at the gate. A few travelers glance our way, but no one causes a scene. We’re early enough, half disguised enough.
Luc and Lily take the window seats near the back so Larkin can nap. Hayden and Mikey sprawl across a row, already arguing about a new pedal board idea. I drop into a seat without thinking.
Sadie slides into the aisle beside me. I feel the shift in her leg against mine. A small press of skin against denim. Not intentional, but it’s not nothing either. Her touch. My pulse does the wrong thing.
She pretends not to notice. I pretend better. The plane starts boarding around us. Overhead bins slam shut. A kid cries. Someone drops their phone. Ordinary world noise. And I can’t stop feeling like I’m sitting in a different universe.
Because Sadie’s here.
Because she’s close.
Because the kiss didn’t make her run.
Because she’s still choosing to sit next to me.
I stare at the seatback in front of me like it’s a lifeline.
“You nervous flying?” she asks quietly.
“No.”
“Mm.” She gives me the tiniest, almost smile. “You look like you’re about to go onstage without pants.”
I cut my eyes to her. “Is that your professional interpretation?”
“Yep.” She leans back. “Very scientific.”
“Good to know.”
She laughs softly. And something in my chest shifts again, not painful this time. Just… alive. The plane taxis. Takes off. The city drops away beneath us. Sadie looks out the window. “It’s weird leaving Memphis.”
“Yeah.”
“I liked it there,” she muses, to herself or me, I’m not sure. Because of Elvis? Because of quiet days? Because of me? I don’t ask. I can’t. She turns a little. “Thanks for taking me to Graceland.”
I keep my face even. “Yeah, sure, no big deal.”
She makes a little sound in her throat like she doesn’t buy that for a second. “Well, anyway, thanks.”
I swallow. “You’re welcome.” Quiet again.
Then she says, as if it costs her something to say aloud, “I liked seeing you like that.”
My stomach drops. “Like what?”
“Happy.” One word. Honest. Brave.
My jaw tightens before I can stop it. “Don’t start.”
She doesn’t flinch. “I’m not starting anything, I’m just saying.”
I stare out of the other window, watching clouds swallow the wingtip. “I don’t usually let people see me like that,” I mumble.
“Why not?”
Because it ends. Because people get taken. Because I don’t deserve nice things without paying for them later. But I don’t say any of that. Instead, I admit, “Because it makes them think they’re allowed to want something from me.”
Sadie’s voice is careful. “And you think I want something from you?”
My whole body goes still. I turn to her too fast, like I have no control, and she’s already looking at me, not challenging, not pleading. Just open. The air between us feels dangerous.
She continues softly. “I don’t want your fame. Or your pain. Not even your story. Just you.”
The plane hums. My ears ring. My first instinct is to shut down, to cut it into pieces, to say something sharp. My second instinct is to stay quiet because if I open my mouth, I might say something that changes everything.
Sadie waits. And Jesus, she waits the way people who know patience do. The way Lily waited yesterday. The way Luc waits when he knows I’m about to bolt.
“I don’t know how to be wanted like that,” I finally admit, my voice wavering. It’s the truth even if it’s not the whole truth.
Sadie nods like I handed her something fragile. “Okay.”
“You don’t scare easy,” I add, because I can’t stop myself.
Her mouth curves. “Neither do you.” That should be a joke. It isn’t.
We sit in silence after that, but it’s different now. Less barbed. More real. I keep my hands on my thighs. I don’t reach for her. I don’t touch her. But my leg is still pressed to hers, and neither of us moves.
At some point I feel her head tip slightly toward my shoulder, not resting, just close.
Like she’s tired and the pull is instinct.
Every cell in my body wants to lean in. I don’t.
Because I want it too much. I glance down at her hands in her lap.
She’s wearing the ring her and Lily both bought yesterday.
A thin silver band with a tiny sapphire stone.
My brain does a stupid, romantic little stumble that makes me want to punch myself. Sapphire. Tour family. Her world. My world. Our world. I look away before I get sentimental. I don’t do sentimental.
The flight is short. Too short for how long it feels like I’ve been holding my breath. When we land in Orlando, humid air hits us like a wet blanket the moment we step outside. Florida already sucks.
We pile into another van. The crew is waiting for us at the arena already because they drove the buses down without us. I should be thinking about soundcheck times. But all I’m thinking about is Sadie saying you. Not your fame. Not your pain. You.
The buses are here, but with this heat, it’s easier for us to stay in a hotel where we can manage the air conditioning and crowd.
We check in. Keys are handed out. People scatter.
Sadie starts to drift toward the elevator with Lily.
I don’t know why the idea of her disappearing down a hallway makes my chest go tight.
I don’t know what to do with that feeling except pretend it doesn’t exist.
She glances back once. Quiet question in her eyes. I answer without thinking. “Meet in the lobby at four,” I offer.
“For what?”
“Soundcheck. Pre-show stuff.” I keep it casual. “If you want.” It’s a half-invitation. A test. A coward’s way of asking her to be near me without using the words.
Sadie nods. “I’ll be there.” She turns away. And I stand there like a man who just got handed something he doesn’t want to drop.
Mikey jogs up behind me, suitcase banging his knee. “Okay, what the hell is going on with you?”
“Nothing.”
He squints. “You’re smiling.”
“I am not.”
“You are. It’s terrifying.”
“Go away.” I swat at him like I would a pesky fly.
“Not until you tell me you’re not going to implode onstage tonight,” he demands, lowering his voice. “Because you look like someone lit a fuse in your chest.”
I open my mouth to tell him to screw off. What comes out instead is a rough exhale. “I’m tight, Mikey. Really.”
“Dean,” Mikey adds quietly, and there’s no teasing now. “If you’re not, say so.”
I stare past him at the elevator doors, at Sadie’s disappearing shape. “I’m…” I swallow. “Working on it.”
Mikey’s expression softens in that annoying way he does when he’s being a good friend, not a menace. He claps my shoulder once. “That’s all you gotta do.” He dips his chin. “Just keep working on it.” He heads toward the elevator.
I stay in the lobby another second, alone in the Florida heat and the echo of her voice. Then I grab my bag and go upstairs to get ready to do what I do best - pretend I’m not human until the lights go down.
But it’s getting harder than it used to. Because there’s a photographer in this hotel who looks at me like I’m not a disaster. And I’m starting to want to believe her.