Chapter 5 Last Chance
LAST CHANCE
LILY
In the early hours of the morning, I wake to the soft press of Dylan’s lips against my forehead. My eyes flutter open, meeting his, and the exhaustion etched into his blue gaze immediately sets me on edge. The usual playful sparkle is gone, replaced with a heaviness that twists in my chest.
“Morning,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.
“Morning,” I murmur back, my throat dry and scratchy. “Is something wrong?”
“Not exactly. I’m glad you’re here,” he says, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from my face.
The tenderness in his touch contrasts with the somberness of his tone.
My heart races as I wait for the next part of his sentence, knowing that there is a “but” coming.
And more likely than not, it will be a statement that I don’t like.
“But I can’t help thinking... this might be the end of Electric Wounds,” he finally finishes in a quiet murmur.
I exhale softly, the pressure in my chest easing as I let his words sink in.
Enzo's reminder from yesterday in the shower comes rushing back—this band, these men, are barely holding on. Jax’s disappearance is the breaking point they didn’t need, and it’s clear they’re all clinging to what little stability they have left.
Pushing myself onto my elbows, I lean in and press a soft kiss against Dylan’s cheek. “We’re going to find Jax,” I say firmly, as I pull back and meet his gaze, leaving no room for doubt.
Dylan nods, his lips curving into a faint, half-hearted smile. “Yeah, of course,” he replies, though his tone lacks conviction. “But for now, let’s stay in bed a little longer. I’m not ready to share you with everyone else yet.”
Before I can respond, he grabs the blanket, wrapping it snugly around me, and flips me onto my side so I’m facing the edge of the bunk. A laugh slips out as he nestles himself against my back, cocooning me in his warmth. “Okay, we’ll stay here,” I agree, my voice soft with amusement.
The silence that follows is warm and comforting.
Dylan’s hand brushes lightly along my arm, his gentle touch relaxing me into a peaceful haze.
My thoughts begin to wander, drifting through the chaos of the last few weeks with the band and the uncertainty of what lies ahead.
The lingering fear of losing my job and, more importantly, my place with them, looms in the back of my mind.
Dylan’s touch shifts, his hand trailing from my arm to glide across my front. His palm brushes against my breasts, sending a spark of awareness coursing through me. My breath catches as he repeats the motion, his fingers teasing over the sensitive peaks of my nipples.
My worries scatter like leaves in the wind as I arch back into him, craving more.
Dylan’s hand grows bolder, fondling my breasts with gentle strokes and plucks.
His hard length presses against my ass, and I bite my lip to stifle a moan.
His nose grazes my neck, his light stubble further igniting my already heightened sensitivity.
Turning in his arms, I meet his heated gaze and close the distance between us, capturing his lips in a fervent kiss. Everything else fades away, leaving only the two of us cocooned in the intimacy of his tiny bunk.
Our lips break apart and I shift down the small bed until I’m level with Dylan’s waist. His eyes widen, surprise flickering across his face as I tug down his sweatpants. He doesn’t stop me, only watches, confusion and curiosity mingling in his gaze.
“Lily, what are you doing?” he asks, his voice husky.
“Taking care of you,” I respond, offering him what I hope is a saucy wink.
I take him into my mouth, grounding myself in the salty taste of his skin. Dylan’s breath hitches, his hand tangling in my hair as he guides me gently. His length fills my mouth, hitting the back of my throat and a tear winds down my cheek.
I focus on the moment, on Dylan, determined to push away the darkness that threatens to overwhelm us both.
As I work his length in and out of my throat, the tension in his body begins to change from stress to pleasure, his breathing growing ragged. He whispers my name like a prayer, his hips thrusting upwards as his release builds.
“Fuck, Lily,” he groans, his grip tightening in my hair. “You’re amazing.”
His words bring a strange mix of pride and comfort. I want to be his anchor, the one who keeps him grounded when everything else feels like it’s falling apart. I quicken my pace, taking him deeper, my hands gripping his thighs for leverage.
When he finally comes, he shudders with a deep, satisfied groan as his seed empties inside my mouth. I lick up his length twice more, savoring every last drop before pulling away.
He tugs me up his body to lie beside him, and I rest my head on his chest. He wraps an arm around me, pulling our bodies as close as possible. His fingers move to slip into my pajama bottoms, but I still his hand.
“This was about you,” I whisper.
He pauses. His fingers still tangled in my clothes, before offering a nod and laying his arm back across my waist. “Thank you,” he whispers in a tone slightly deeper than usual. “I needed that.”
“You’re welcome. Everything will be okay. I promise.”
Dylan presses a lingering kiss to my forehead, his lips soft and warm. “I hope you’re right, Lily. I really do.”
We stay curled up together for a few more minutes, the steady rhythm of Dylan’s heartbeat beneath my ear grounding me.
The warmth and comfort of the moment almost makes me forget the chaos outside the small bubble of his bunk.
Eventually, the faint stirrings of activity on the bus shatter the fragile illusion of peace.
Dylan leans down, brushing one last searing kiss across my lips before we pull apart. He jumps down from his bed, offering me his hand and tugging me into the hallway. I walk ahead of him to the main living space.
Stepping into the kitchen area, I spot Marcus standing shirtless by the coffee pot.
His phone pressed to his ear with one hand while the other flips the switch to start the brew.
His back is to me, but the strain in his posture is unmistakable.
His voice is low, the words indiscernible as I move closer, curiosity tugging at me.
“When?” Marcus asks, the impatience in his tone cutting through the quiet. He pauses, listening to the response on the other end of the line. “Alright, we’ll see you in a few minutes.” With a heavy sigh, he sets his phone on the counter and leans against it, rubbing his forehead.
I step closer and wrap my arms around his waist from behind, pressing my cheek to the warmth of his bare back. He stiffens for a moment before twisting in my embrace to face me, a soft smile barely covering the strain on his features.
“Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice gentler now.
“Good morning,” I reply, matching his smile. “Who was on the phone?”
“Harris,” he says with a grimace.
My smile fades as my brow furrows. “He’s coming here?”
“Unfortunately,” Marcus confirms, his lips tightening. “And it sounds like he’s just a couple minutes away.”
Before I can even think of a response, a sharp knock echoes from the bus door.
Dylan, who had been standing closer to it, moves quickly to answer it.
He pulls the door open to reveal Harris, his face drawn and tense.
His dark hair is slicked back as always, and his suit is immaculate, but the deeper lines around his mouth and the shadows under his eyes betray the weight of whatever news he’s brought.
Enzo, his hair still mussed from sleep, shuffles into the main area of the bus, his expression groggy but alert. “What’s going on?” he asks, his voice rough from the early hour.
“Time is running out,” Harris snaps, his tone sharp and unyielding. “We’ve canceled the next show, but the label is furious. They’re claiming the fans are getting restless. If we cancel any more, we might be looking at a riot.”
“We have one more show before a three-week break,” I say, desperation creeping into my voice. I’m grasping at straws, clinging to any hope. “Just give us until then. We’ll find him. I swear we will.”
Harris exhales heavily, dragging a hand down his face. His frustration is evident, but so is his weariness. “My job’s on the line too, Lily,” he says, his voice softer but still firm. “This band is hanging by a thread. I can’t cancel the next show. You need to find him—today. Whatever it takes.”
I nod, the weight of his words settling heavily on my shoulders. The pressure is crushing, but I can’t let it stop me. We will find Jax. Today. There’s no other option.
“We will find him today,” Marcus declares, voicing my thoughts out loud. “We won’t miss the next show.”
His determination sparks a mirrored resolve in Enzo and Dylan, their faces set with purpose.
Harris scans each of us, his expression softening slightly before he nods.
“Alright, pour me a cup of coffee and walk me through where you’ve already looked.
I’ll see if there’s anything I haven’t tried yet that might help. ”
Relief immediately me at his willingness to help. Harris is a hardass, but he’s had our back. At least I hope what he’s saying to the label matches how he’s been treating us, but only time will tell.
I trail behind the guys and we gather around the dining table. They dive into a detailed recount of our search efforts so far, their voices laced with frustration and hope. Harris listens intently, jotting down notes on his phone. After half an hour, he rises with a nod.
“I’ll check in soon,” he promises, his tone comforting despite the weight of the situation.
As the door closes behind him, the four of us spring into action. Breakfast is forgotten as we focus all our energy on the task ahead: finding Jax. Today.
The morning blurs into a haze of phone calls, retraced steps, and revisited dive bars and seedy apartment complexes.
The strain takes its toll on all of us. Marcus and Enzo bicker more than usual, their patience worn thin.
Dylan retreats into silence, his grim focus a stark contrast to his usual lighthearted demeanor.
A direct contrast to our gentle morning together.
And me? I feel like I’m teetering on the edge, holding my breath, bracing for the moment everything falls apart.
By midday, we make the call to split up. I pair up with Enzo, determined to find and question anyone who might know something—anything—about where Jax could be.