Chapter 32
Chapter
Thirty-Two
Logan
We hit the road for St. Louis as soon as the festival wraps, but I partly wish I could go home.
The longer we fight for bathroom time or space to breathe, the worse everyone's tempers flare. It gets so bad that Christian and Arya disappear after every show, avoiding Dev at all costs.
Huck and Taylor do the same. They slip off in the Audi to lose themselves in the city, no doubt chasing whatever scraps of peace they can find.
Salem goes on her own secret adventures, too, and Devon mostly sleeps while he heals.
I try to keep busy by tracking expenses, but eventually my laptop screen starts to blur.
By nightfall, everyone makes it back to their respective beds, hardly sparing any conversation. Salem still sleeps between me and Dev, at least, but the tension that formed when she beat him up only seems to grow.
The camaraderie that existed at the start of the trip has long since faded. We all move around each other like smoke, pretending this entire tour isn't unraveling thread by thread.
But it is.
And I don't know how much longer we can go on like this until something crashes and burns.
Hell if I know how to fix it, though.
By the time we pull into Kansas City for our next stop, the RV walls are beginning to close in.
I'm so sick of Arya's singing that I snatch Huckslee's keys and mumble under my breath that I'll be back.
I don't really know where I'm going, but I need some air before I start pounding my head against the steering wheel.
“Hang on,” Salem calls, uncurling from one of the bunks with a stretch. “I'm coming too.”
I pause, surprised, already halfway out the door with my jacket slung over one arm and my fishbowl in the other. She stuffs her feet into a pair of Vans before standing in front of me expectantly. Waiting.
In all honesty, I wanted some alone time, but I motion for her to follow because I'm a desperate fool. Devon’s heavy gaze tracks us all the way to the car, and once we're buckled in, I can't get away fast enough. I nearly speed out of the lot, heading toward… nowhere, really. Just away.
City lights eventually flicker into view, golden against the dusky horizon. We cruise in silence while DYWTYLM by Sleep Token softly fills the space between us.
“Where are we going?” Salem finally asks, elbow braced against the window and my fish on her lap.
“No idea,” I mutter, taking a random left. “Just felt like getting lost for a while.”
She taps her fingers against the side of the bowl. “What's this little guy's name, anyway?”
“How do you know it's a guy? Could be a girl goldfish.”
“Body shape, mostly. I googled it.”
That gets my attention, and I turn to study her profile as she stares straight ahead. “You researched my fish?”
“Well, someone had to.”
A ghost of a smile pulls at my mouth. “You name him, then.”
Her eyes drop to the little orange blur swimming in circles on her lap. “He looks like a Sitka to me.”
I frown, directing the car into a strip mall parking space. “Sitka?”
“Yeah. Sitka This Shit.”
A laugh bursts out of both of us. We stare at each other, and for a moment, it feels like how it used to be.
But her smile fades when she looks away.
The humor on my face dies instantly, reminding me that things will never be the same again.
Part of me doesn't know if I'd even want that, anyway, not after… everything.
“Well.” She clears her throat and points at a department store. “How about we get Sitka some furniture for his bowl so he has something nice to look at?”
“Yeah, okay.”
I follow her out of the car silently, unsure of this vibe between us but no less pleased with it. We can't be what we were to each other, but maybe we could be something new—whatever that looks like for us.
By the time we finish shopping, night has fallen and Sitka has a brand-new sunken ship—complete with treasure chest—to call home. He seems much happier as he settles into the hull and gazes out at us with his little goldfish eyes. I swear he even smiles, if fish can do that.
“So, what now?” I murmur once we're in the car again. Rain patters against the windshield softly.
Salem rests her head against the seat. “I don't know.”
My eyes drop to the delicate column of her throat as she swallows and I tear my gaze away. Minutes tick by while I try to find something to say.
In the end, it’s Salem who breaks the silence. “What do you plan on doing when this is over?”
I glance at her sideways. “This? You mean the tour?” When she nods, I blow out a breath and stare at the rain. “Good question. I haven't really thought that far. I mean, I quit my job, so obviously I'll need to find something new when we get home.”
She finally gives me her full attention. “Is that what you want? A boring office job and a cubicle?”
Those words catch me off guard. I blink slowly in response. “I mean… yeah. Something stable that pays well but doesn't make me feel like walking into traffic every day.”
“That's it? No adventure?” Her gray eyes hold mine captive, imploring, but I don't know what she's searching for.
“Honestly, I think this tour is enough adventure for a while.”
Something shifts in Salem’s expression at my answer. She turns away with drooping shoulders. “That sounds boring.”
“What else do you want me to say?” Irritation weasels its way into my tone, and I try to soften my voice. “I'm a boring guy, Salem. We've always known this. Not everyone needs adrenaline. Some of us just want to be comfortable, work to feed our families, and enjoy the simple life.”
“Is that what you want? A family?”
Her question hangs heavy in the air. Although we’re parked, I grip the steering wheel just to have something to do with my hands. “Yeah. Eventually. You don't?”
I know she didn’t want marriage, but we never actually got around to talking about kids. It never felt like the right time.
She doesn’t answer right away, just keeps watching the rain slide down the windshield as Just Pretend by Bad Omens fills the space.
“I just…” She shakes her head like she’s arguing with herself. “I don’t know if I’m built for that kind of life. Soccer games, PTO meetings, the picket fence. The kind where I get boxed in.”
“I never wanted to box you in,” I mutter.
Her lips press into a thin line. “No, but you wanted me to fit.”
Fuck, that punches me straight in the ribs. We sit silently for a long while, the rain drumming steadily around us.
I don't know how I'm supposed to answer that.
Eventually, she heaves a heavy sigh. “I spent all last week doing video interviews for a touring photographer gig. Cedar set it up for me. Not only would the job pay extremely well, but it also comes with free room and board. I'd get to travel the world with the band, manage their social media.”
My breath hitches. “So that’s what you were up to. Are you going to take the position?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
I study her face for a moment with a sinking stomach. “But you want to go.”
When she rolls her head toward me, the wistful yearning in her gaze wraps a tight fist around my heart. “More than I thought I would.”
“Salem…” I trail off because I don’t even know what to say. Don’t go? That’s amazing? I’m proud of you? All of it would be true.
She deserves to do something she's passionate about, but the prospect of her leaving makes me sick. Even though we hadn’t seen each other for a year before the tour, she was always there. But this is… different. We'd have oceans between us. Entire worlds apart. “Why haven't you said yes?”
She pauses for a beat. “Maybe I'm afraid of leaving everyone behind.”
“Even me?”
“Even your insufferable ass,” she smirks.
I shove her playfully, accidentally jostling my fish. “What band is it? And when does the tour start?”
“Symbiotic. They're leaving for Europe shortly after we finish here.”
“Taylor's going to freak.” I whistle low, my gut already twisting at the thought of saying goodbye.
Salem snorts. “He’ll probably try to hide in my suitcase.” My forced laugh dies quickly, fading into silence. When she glances over at me, her expression softens. “I haven’t accepted it yet. I still have time to say no.”
Hope flares inside of me when it shouldn’t. “Would you?”
“I don’t know,” she admits, rubbing her forehead furiously. “I hate the idea of going alone, but… there’s something about it that feels right. Like I’ve finally found a career just for me. Not tied to Tay or Christian, but a brand I can create for myself. By myself.”
“What about Twins of Terror?”
She smacks her lips at that. “T.O.T. was something the guys created after high school and they dragged me along for the ride. Don't get me wrong, I've loved spending the last six years helping them build it, but it's not my baby. It's theirs. You know?”
I nod slowly, trying not to show how much that hurts, because I do know.
I get it. Salem is probably the most independent woman I've ever met, and I’m sure it couldn’t have been easy for her to live in Taylor and Christian’s shadow all these years.
She wants to prove that she can do something like this on her own.
“I think you should do it,” I tell her, distracting myself by chasing raindrops on the windshield. “Obviously, we'll all miss you, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime deal. I'd hate for you to miss out and regret it for the rest of your life.”
A long stretch of silence follows. When I glance over, Salem’s watching me like she’s memorizing something. “You'd let me go? Just like that?”
I swallow hard, the words catching somewhere between my chest and throat. “No. Not 'just like that.'”
My wife was never meant for the life I imagined for us.
I can understand that now. She told me time and again, but I kept on believing that maybe if I wanted it hard enough—if I wanted her hard enough—we'd eventually want the same things.
There are parts of herself she stifled in order to be with me, and I did the same.
Parts of myself I'm just barely coming to terms with.
Would I have been content settling down with her, popping out half a dozen kids, and mowing my lawn every Friday? Yeah, probably. At least… for a while. But I wouldn’t be truly happy. Eventually, she'd grow bitter and I'd be resentful. That's not the life I want.
“I’ll hate it,” I admit, throat tight with emotion. “I’ll probably spend months wondering where you are, what you're doing, and who you're with. And yeah, missing you every day is going to fucking suck. But if it makes you happy? Then yeah, I’ll let you go.”
Salem’s lips part like she wants to speak, those gray eyes I love so much shining, but nothing comes out.
Maybe that’s for the best.
We've both said everything there is to say, anyway.
The car is quiet again, just the rain and the music and our breaths fogging up the glass.
Salem looks away first, wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye as she sets Sitka on the ground.
The thought of her crying over something I said twists my heart, but just as I open my mouth to apologize she launches over the center console and into my lap.
“What are you—”
Before I can even finish my sentence, she yanks my head back by my hair and crushes her lips to mine.