Chapter 37
Erica
Waking up the next day, Ari still doesn’t have his voice.
We were lying in bed snuggling, but he pouted when I said we couldn’t go further.
The doctor said we had to rest and that is definitely not restful.
Instead of doing something or being holed up in his room on our rest day, we spend it in the common area with the guys.
They’re wondering aloud what we’ll do about the tour if his voice doesn’t come back when Ari lights up and looks at me.
“Whatever you’re thinking, I don’t think I want to know.” I tease.
“That is his ‘I have a wicked plan’ face,” Fish adds, to which Ari tosses a narrowed glare.
You sing at the next show, he says calmly, like he didn’t just proverbially slap me with what he was thinking.
I rear back, completely caught off guard.
“What did he say?” Scooter pesters.
With a fake laugh to hide my nerves I say, “He’s lost his mind and thinks I can sing in the next show.”
They don’t even take my side a little bit, turning their attention back to Ari when Fish asks, “You really think she can do it? She sings that well?” Then redirects to me, “No offense, it’s just like a pretty big deal.”
“None taken. He’s lost his marbles.” I cross my arms, standing my metaphorical ground.
But he’s nodding at his bandmates, ignoring my protests.
“Let’s hear it. Sing something for us,” Bach requests in his no-nonsense tone.
My jaw drops open and my cheeks heat furiously. “I’ve just never sang in front of people.” I try to deflect once more.
Bach rubs his forehead like I’m giving him a headache before he says, “Ari, I can’t make her sing if she doesn’t want to, and I guess we’ll just have to cancel the shows until you’re well. We’ll figure it out.”
I know he’s using reverse psychology to guilt-trip me, and yet, I fall for it anyway. Without a word, I stand and walk to the bathroom where the acoustics are the best, leaving the door open. Then I close my eyes and sing my favorite song of theirs. Word for word without missing a note or run.
I leave the bathroom holding onto one of my arms, eyes on the floor, unable to see what they thought.
Scooter’s the one who breaks the silence. “Welp, I’m sold. Shit, can you sing with us all the time? Your voice is a whole lot prettier than his.” He jabs his elbow into Ari’s side and snickers.
Fish whoops and smacks Ari on the back and mumbles something about maybe he passed some of his singing magic to me too, but Ari just shakes his head. I know he’d tell them that I could sing like this before we completed our mating bond, if he had his voice.
Bach looks at me, ignoring the revelry around him. “But do you want to? Can you sing in front of all those people?” he asks, seriously.
You can’t even hardly see them up there through the lights, love.
Worrying my lip between my teeth, I ask Ari, Do you think I can really do this?
He offers me one of those sweet smiles that melts down my every defense. I really do.
I shake my head and throw my hands in the air. “I guess check with your manager and fans and see if it’s okay with them.”
More whoops and hollers from the group, not Bach of course. He’s furiously typing on his phone.
I’ll be up there with you the whole time, Ari reassures me, and it does make me feel better.