Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
Salem
Ohio passes by in a blur.
Most of us are so drained from being on the road for the last three weeks that it’s all we can do to crawl into bed after a show—with the exception of Christian, Arya and Devon, who seem to be fucking every night.
I only know about it because Arya has no semblance of boundaries and tells me everything.
“I sucked both of them off… at the same time.”
“Oh my hell, Devon's huge.”
“He fucks like a god.”
Yada yada. I really don't give a shit. At least Dev isn't causing mayhem since he's getting laid on the reg, unlike me.
By the time we leave for our next destination, I'm fucking exhausted from sleeping in the truck. I can’t do it anymore, which is why I announce to the entire group that we're getting a hotel as soon as we get to Indianapolis.
“Thank fuck,” Taylor mutters around his gas station burger, eyes on Huckslee at the gas pump. “Sneaky blowjobs under the covers are getting old real quick.”
"You’re not that sneaky, carino,” Christian snickers, watching his girlfriend and Dev practically fuck against the side of the RV.
I groan and drop my food onto my plate. “Can you two not? I'm fucking eating here.”
“Agreed.” Tay grimaces, the little hypocrite. Like he wasn't in Devon's place just three years ago.
Christian smacks his lips in annoyance. “You’re both only jealous that I'm getting some.”
“When are you not getting some? Christian, buddy, you have a problem.”
The RV door squeaks as Logan steps out, looking about as ragged as I feel. Since it's his turn to drive, he's been napping in the back. Honestly, he's been napping a lot lately. And eating. Sleeping and eating—that's all he does. And hang out with that fucking fish.
He glances over at Dev and Arya, curling his lip before dragging his gaze to me. “Did I hear right? We're getting a hotel?”
I nod, finishing my burger without sparing him a glance. “Yup. Sick of sleeping in the truck.”
There's a moment of silence as he studies me intently. “Is that in our budget?”
With a shrug, I stand and toss my trash without answering. I don’t really care if it is or not. My back hurts, my head aches, and I'm sticky with bug spray. I just want a soft bed and a hot shower.
When I make my way back into the RV to prepare for my own nap, Logan follows me inside.
“I think we should see if we can even afford a hotel before you go making decisions,” he grumbles.
I whirl around to face him. “I'm the one that planned this entire tour, Logan. With no help, I might add. I think I have the right to make these decisions.”
He stares back with dark, tired eyes. “So we're all just gonna pay out of pocket then? Wasn't the point of getting an RV to save money?”
“You've been sleeping in a bed this entire time. I don't think you have any room to bitch.”
“You know you can sleep in the bed, too. No one's stopping you but yourself.”
“I’m not about to squeeze into a twin-sized mattress with you,” I spit viciously. “Not when I can barely stand to breathe the same air as you some days.”
I regret the words the second they leave my mouth, but not enough to take them back. Logan starts to respond, but I don’t give him the chance to finish.
“You want to talk about the budget?” Taking a step forward, I lift a finger to his face.
“I planned every stop, every show, every mile of this tour right down to the damn gas receipts. And all you’ve done is coast on my work and stuff your fucking face.
So no, I don’t give a shit if the hotel is in our budget or not.
I want one goddamn night where I don’t wake up with a kink in my neck and a bug bite on my ass. ”
My voice echoes off the RV walls, followed by a heavy silence. Even the group outside is silent, no doubt having heard my outburst through the open windows. Logan's expression smooths out, completely unreadable as he shakes his head and skirts around me toward the bathroom.
“Well,” he says coldly, “we can't all look like Cowboy Harper. Or Devon. Or Taylor, Christian, and every other guy you’ve fucked on this tour.”
Fury ignites in my veins when he slams the bathroom door shut, and I punch the wood with my fist. “I didn't fuck the cowboy, asshole!”
There's no response from the other side, just the sound of running water. I blink away tears of frustration as I throw myself onto a bunk and press my palms into my lids until I see stars. My chest tightens with rage that has nowhere to go.
How dare he.
After everything, he thinks he has the right to judge me?
Curling onto my side, I face the wall, every muscle in my body locked tight. A tear slips down my cheek, but I swipe it away angrily.
No. He doesn’t get my sadness. He's the one who left me in Vegas, not the other way around.
I won't be made to feel small by a boy who can’t handle rejection.
I am not my fucking mother.
The RV door opens, letting in a wave of sweltering heat. I already know who’s stepped in before he speaks.
“Marital spat?”
I flip him off over my shoulder. “Fuck off.”
“Nah.” The bed dips as Taylor climbs in before tugging me against his chest. We lay like that silently for a moment, listening to the sound of the shower in the bathroom. I settle into his warmth, feeling the tension in my muscles ease slightly. Tay's familiar touch and scent grounds me.
We may have dated on and off years ago, but this is what we've always been to each other. Comfort. A steady presence when shit gets too real to handle.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asks softly, his chin resting on my shoulder.
I scoff in response. “No.” A beat passes, and I continue anyway. “He's so fucking infuriating sometimes.”
Taylor hums in acknowledgement.
I grit my teeth as Logan’s words rattle around in my brain. We can't all look like Cowboy Harper. Or Devon. Or Taylor, Christian, and every other guy you've fucked on this tour. “Like, who does he think he is, judging me like that? We aren’t even together.”
“You're married.”
I twist my head to glare. “That doesn't mean shit and you know it.”
“Does to him,” Tay shrugs, reaching up to poke my cheek. “It seems like he really wants to work this out with you, so what's the deal? Why are you being a moody bitch?”
Growling, I flop onto my side. “Because marriage is a sham! It doesn't fucking mean anything and it comes with all kinds of expectations. What's the point?”
Taylor doesn't answer right away. He only tightens his arm and lets me breathe for a second, even as my chest heaves with anger.
“The point,” he says finally, “is probably that you love him.”
I bolt upright, yanking myself out of his hold. “I do not love him.”
“You obviously did enough to marry the guy.”
“I just wanted his virginity.”
“I don't believe that for a second,” Tay snorts, yanking the chain out of my shirt. “For one, you're not cruel. And two, why do you carry this around still?”
“Hey!” Snatching the wedding band, I stuff it back into my bra with heated cheeks. “I don't expect you to understand. You're a man. What do you lose if you marry Huck? Nothing, that's what. Women give up everything. Their last name, their money, their autonomy.”
He clicks his tongue in offense. “Who says I won't take Huck’s name?
Maybe he'll take mine. Maybe we'll hyphenate.
I mean, you know, if that ever happens. Not saying it will, because we're still in our twenties, and like, he's gone six months out of the year, and he's got his NFL contract to fulfill—” He cuts himself off when he meets my stare.
“Okay, fine, I get your point. Marriage is fucking scary.”
“See?” I throw my hands up, climbing over him to pace the small kitchen because lying down feels impossible with the way my head is spinning.
“It’s terrifying! It’s a trap. And don’t even get me started on how society treats a married woman versus a man.
One gets praised for landing a live-in sex toy while the other gets stuck cooking dinner and popping out fuck trophies! ”
Taylor sighs heavily, leaning back against the bunk as he watches me angrily braid my hair. “Salem—”
“And then there's medical care!” I continue, too heated to stop. “I need his fucking permission now to do anything with my reproductive organs. Tubes tied? Hysterectomy? Nope, not unless the husband says so. Do you know how fucked that is?”
“I think you're—”
“Women couldn't even get bank accounts without their husband’s consent until the seventies! It's an archaic, outdated, misogynistic, religious institution that marginalizes women and gives men more power, forcing us to rely on them, and I fucking hate it!”
My chest heaves by the time I finish, sweat beading across my hairline and the back of my neck.
“Jesus.” Taylor gazes at me wide-eyed, his lips parted . “Are you done yet?”
Deflating in an instant, I collapse onto the edge of the bed, all the fight draining out of me in one messy, exhausted exhale. “Yeah. I'm done.”
“Cool, because I have something to say.” Scooting closer, he throws his arms around my shoulders and pulls me into a tight hug. “Despite all of those things… You know you can still love him, right?”
“I don't want to,” I whisper, my stomach twisting at the thought.
Tay offers me a sad smile. “I get it. More than anyone here, probably. You know how many years I fucking wished I could get over Huck when he was away for college? Just forget about him and all the bullshit we went through in high school? I tormented him, for fucks sake. I hurt him.”
Another deep sigh leaves my throat. “But you guys are fine now. That's all dead and buried.”
“Maybe for him, it is.” Taylor's eyes darken as he glances toward the window, lowering his voice. “It kills me sometimes, Salem, remembering how we got here. The shit I did. I can't change those memories, and fuck, I wish I could. Every damn day.”
“Logan isn't Huck, and I'm not you. This is different.”