35. Comfort in the Chaos
THIRTY-FIVE
COMFORT IN THE CHAOS
L ily
After the whirlwind of the broken-down bus, motel, cab ride, then show, we barely have time to catch our breath before another van arrives to pick us up. The adrenaline from the performance still hums in everyone’s veins, but the exhaustion is creeping in. This van is an upgrade from the last one, and as we pile in, the cool blast of air conditioning feels like heaven after the sweltering heat of our earlier rides.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I settle into my seat. It’s a message from Harris: Bus is still down. You’ll need to stay at a hotel for another night. Make sure the guys are ready for tomorrow’s show. This can’t happen again.
I sigh, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me. I’m hoping this news won’t put the band back on edge and renew the tension from earlier, but it’s not like I can hide it. Putting my phone away, I glance around at the others, their eyes already on me, waiting for an update.
“What’s the verdict?” Enzo asks, his voice softer than usual.
“Harris says the bus is still broken, so we’re staying in a hotel for another night,” I explain. “And he made it very clear we can’t afford another screw-up.”
Jax nods, his eyes clouded with frustration. “Just what we needed.”
I reach across the seat to Jax, gently cupping his face, forcing him to meet my gaze. “We’ll get through this, Jax. Nothing is wrong. This won’t happen again.”
He stares at me for a moment before sighing and nodding. “Yeah, we’ll be fine.”
I release his face and the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Jax has me worried, but no one else seems to share my concern. Maybe he’s always this moody, and the band is desensitized to it. Spending all day, every day with the band makes it easy to forget that I don’t actually know them very well. The short period of time that we have spent together feels much longer than it actually has been, and the guys are probably able to judge Jax’s behavior better than I can.
The rest drive to the new hotel is mostly quiet. The energy from the show has started to fade, replaced by a heavy weariness. Jax sits in his seat, silently staring out the window. His dark hair falls messily over his forehead, and he absently tugs at his hoodie, pulling it tighter around himself. Enzo flips through his phone with his usual air of indifference, sharp features set in a scowl. Marcus and Dylan sit across from each other, engaging in light banter, trying to keep things light.
“At least we didn’t completely miss the show,” Marcus says, his blue eyes twinkling as he runs a hand through his tousled blond hair. “Imagine the headlines.”
Dylan chuckles, leaning back in his seat. “Yeah, ‘Electric Wounds: More Like Electric No-Shows.’ Not our best look.”
Enzo snorts. “At least no one had a meltdown on stage.”
Jax doesn’t respond at all. His silence weighs heavily, and the banter stops after that.
The new hotel is a far cry from where we were staying last night. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and plush seating areas greet us in the lobby. The receptionist informs us that the label has booked us a luxury suite for the night, since the bus is still out of commission. Relief washes over me—at least we won’t be crammed into a single room again.
We ride the elevator to our floor, and though the surroundings are luxurious, the band still seems drained. I don’t blame them. I am too.
We enter our room together. The suite is spacious, with a large living area, small kitchenette, and multiple bedrooms, much like the first hotel from hotel day. It’s a welcome change from the cramped bus and mediocre hotel room the night before.
“Well, this is more like it,” Dylan says, dropping his bags by the entrance.
Marcus nods, taking in the suite. “Yeah, not bad.”
Enzo disappears into one of the bedrooms without a word carrying his bag, while Jax lingers in the living room, his expression still dark and brooding. I approach him slowly. “Hey,” I say softly. “You okay?”
Jax barely glances at me, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
I sigh, feeling like he’s anything but fine, but also knowing that I can’t push the issue if he refuses to tell me anything. “Do you want to talk?”
“No,” he replies curtly, turning his back to me and heading toward another one of the bedrooms, the furthest from Enzo.
I follow him, not ready to give up. “Jax, I know things today were rough, but shutting everyone out isn’t going to help.”
He doesn’t respond, just opens the door to the room and steps inside. I hesitate for a moment before following him, determined not to let him push me away. The bedroom is spacious, with a king-sized bed and a large set of windows draped with heavy navy-blue curtains. Jax sits on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped, running his hands through his dark hair.
Taking a deep breath, I sit beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Jax, please. Let me in.”
He looks up at me, his green eyes filled with annoyance. “Lily, I don’t want to talk right now.”
“Okay,” I whisper, deciding to back off. If I keep pushing Jax, then I might make things worse. Maybe this is why the rest of the band has left him alone. He is so stubborn. I concede on talking tonight, but add, “But I’m not leaving you alone.”
He doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t need to. I’m not changing my mind.
Kicking off my shoes, I climb onto the bed beside him. He stiffens but doesn’t push me away. Wrapping my arms around him, I rest my head on his shoulder. Slowly, I feel the tension in his body start to ease as he leans into me.
For a while, we sit in silence, the only sound the distant hum of the city outside. Eventually, Jax shifts, lying down and pulling me with him. He turns on his side, facing away from me, but I don’t mind. I curl around him, my arm draped over his waist, my head resting on his back.
I can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, and the rise and fall of his breath. Slowly, his breathing begins to sync with mine, the tension in his body easing further. The room is dimly lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting gentle shadows on the walls.
I probably need to change and shower. I definitely need to brush my teeth, but I stay wrapped around Jax. His silent presence and solid warmth have a drugging effect. As I begin to drift off, I whisper, “Goodnight, Jax,” and press a soft kiss to his shoulder.
He doesn’t respond, but his hand reaches back, covering mine and squeezing lightly. It’s a small gesture, but it confirms that staying here tonight was the right choice.
The world outside fades as sleep pulls me under.