Chapter 21
Somebody needed to crank the AC. Heat blanketed my side in a comforting yet overwhelming way in the small space of my bunk. My body always went into overdrive after a night of hard drinking, but this was intense.
I shifted restlessly, trying to escape the smothering heat, but there was nowhere to go.
My head throbbed, a vicious drumbeat pounding behind my eyes. Fragments of memories danced at the edges of my consciousness, taunting me with their hazy, disjointed images. Flashes of light, snatches of music, the taste of whiskey on my tongue. And through it all, a constant, pulsing awareness of her. Olivia. My…
I tried to turn over, my sleep dazed mind trying to escape it. Pain splintered through my head, but still I couldn’t move.
What the fuck?
My eyes opened. Liv lay tucked into my side, her soft curves and sleep-warm skin moulded to my body while her head rested on my shoulder, her leg thrown haphazardly over mine.
Between the tangle of the sheet and the death grip she had on me, no wonder I couldn’t move.
For a moment, I let myself sink into the drowsy contentment of holding her close. In the cocoon of my bunk, with the curtains drawn against the world, it was easy to pretend that this was all there was. Just her and me, skin to skin, the way it was meant to be. But as the cobwebs slowly cleared from my mind, little details began to filter in, chipping away at the edges of my peace.
The air was too still, the gentle rocking motion that usually lulled me to sleep conspicuously absent. The muted light seeping through the curtain was too bright, too steady, lacking the strobing quality of passing streetlights as we travelled from city to city.
Something wasn’t right.
We should have been moving, the low thrum of the engine a constant background noise. But the bus was silent, stationary, the air heavy with a stillness that set my teeth on edge.
I shifted slightly, dislodging the hook of her foot around my knee, trying to get my bearings without disturbing her.
If we aren’t on the road, then where the hell are we? And more importantly, what time is it?
The thought sent a fresh jolt of anxiety through me, a sickening lurch in my gut as the pieces started to fall into place.
If the bus was parked, if the sun was already high in the sky… then we’d slept far later than we should have. And if we were still in my bunk, tangled together like lovers with nowhere else to be…
Oh shit. Oh shit shit shit.
The band.
They would have seen us… it would all come out.
Fuck.
Why had I been so stupid, so careless?
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force back the panic so I could think clearly and find a way out before… it was too late for that now. The damage was done. All I could do was try to minimise the fallout.
But how?
Bile rose in my throat, hot and acrid. This couldn’t be happening.
I’d spent years helplessly watching relationships get torn apart, watching the press degrade people, reducing them to nothing more than the lies that sold papers or drove website traffic. The constant scrutiny, the relentless pressure, the voracious hunger of a public that felt entitled to every last shred of our lives… it was a meat grinder, chewing up and spitting out anything good or pure or real.
Like my sweet, innocent sister who they drove to suicide.
I couldn’t let that happen to Liv. To us. I’d sworn to myself that I would protect this precious thing between us. That I would shield her from the worst of it, the soul-deep scars that never really healed. Protect her from becoming like…
No. Inside, I cringed away from the thought, shutting it down instantly. I never went there. I couldn’t.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to calm the rising tide of dread. I shifted carefully, trying not to wake her as I craned my neck to peek through the gap in the curtain. The narrow hallway was empty, the other bunks silent and still. No sign of movement, no clinking of glassware or the murmur of voices from the living area downstairs.
Hope flared in my chest, cautious but persistent.
Maybe we’d gotten lucky.
And that’s when I saw it.
A glint of silver on my left hand, catching the thin beam of sunlight as I reached to pull back the curtain.
A ring.
A fucking wedding ring, sitting on my finger like it had every right to be there.
The world tilted, my stomach lurching with it. Memories came flooding back, snapshots and sensations tumbling through my mind in a dizzying cascade. Liv’s smile, radiant under the neon lights. The press of her body against mine as we danced, so close I could feel her heartbeat. The electric brush of her lips on my skin as she whispered in my ear, giddy and giggling and so fucking beautiful.
“I have this crazy idea. Let’s get married.”
Oh god. What had we done?
My hand shook. The ring gleamed mockingly in the sun, a tangible reminder of the insanity, the sheer fucking madness of what we’d done.
We were married. Actually, legally married.
A grin spread across my face, a disbelieving laugh escaping my lips. It was insane, completely and utterly insane. But it was also the most incredibly perfect thing I could imagine.
Married. To Olivia. My Liv.
A rush of warmth flooded through me, chasing away the last vestiges of my hangover. This was real. It wasn’t just a drunken fantasy or a fleeting whim. We’d actually gone and done it.
I stared down at her in awe. She was mine now, truly and completely mine. My wife.
The word sent a thrill through me, a burst of possessive pride. I’d never get tired of saying it.
I brushed a gentle kiss across her forehead and pulled her closer, now able to savour the warm weight of her against me. She stirred, her lashes fluttering, a sleepy little hum vibrating through her as she nestled closer.
“Mmm, morning handsome,” she mumbled, her lips brushing my skin in a drowsy kiss. “What time’s it?”
Her voice was hushed and honeyed, rough with sleep but sweet with affection. “Liv,” I murmured, my voice thick with emotion. “Wake up. We did something amazing last night.”
She stiffened slightly, the note of awe in my voice catching her attention. Slowly, her head lifted from my chest, her eyes blinking open in curiosity.
“What is it?” she asked, her brow furrowed as she took in my expression. “You look like you snuck out and jammed with Slash without telling me.”
I barked out a joyful laugh, the sound ringing out in the still air. “It’s even better than that.” I held up my hand so she could see the ring. “We got married last night.”
There was a beat of silence, a heartbeat that stretched into an eternity. I watched the emotions play across her face like clouds across the sun—shock, disbelief, a flicker of something that might have been wonder or terror or both.
Then, slowly, a smile began to bloom. It started at the corners of her mouth, a tiny upward tilt that gradually spread into a grin so wide it crinkled the corners of her eyes.
“Holy shit,” she breathed, her gaze locked on the ring. “We did. We actually fucking did it!”
A disbelieving laugh bubbled up from her throat, half shock and half pure, unadulterated joy. She scrambled to sit up, the sheets falling away to reveal miles of bare skin that I wanted to explore all over again.
“I can’t wait to tell the band. Lily is going to be so furious that we got married without her.” She grinned, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “And Ash, oh she’ll never let me hear the end of it.”
Reality came crashing down, the icy fingers of dread wrapping around my heart and squeezing until I could barely breathe.
Tell the band? Make it public?
No. No, no, no. We couldn’t. I couldn”t.
This had to be the punchline of a cosmic joke I was too fucked in the head to appreciate.
The panic must have shown on my face because Liv’s smile faltered, confusion and concern creeping into her eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
I shook my head, trying to find the words to explain the sheer fucking terror coursing through my veins. What the fuck had we been thinking? How could we have been so stupid, so reckless, so blindly, naively romantic?
“We can’t tell anyone. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”
She frowned, hurt and bewilderment warring across her features. “What? Why not? This is amazing. This is everything we wanted.”
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly bone dry. “I know. Fuck, Liv, I know. But the press, the public scrutiny… it’ll tear us apart. It’ll destroy us.”
Her mouth opened, a protest forming on her lips, but I barrelled on, desperate to make her understand.
“You don’t know what it’s like. The constant invasion of privacy, the lies and speculation and fucking entitlement people feel to every aspect of your life. It’s suffocating. It’s toxic. And I can’t… I won’t let that touch us. I won’t let it taint this.” My voice cracked, the raw edge of desperation bleeding through.
I cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing over the delicate arch of her cheekbones. I released her and removed a silver necklace from around my neck. I removed the ring and threaded it through the chain. She lifted her own hand, staring at the matching band on her finger with a sort of dazed awe. I placed the ring around my neck and stared at her, struggling to get a clear read. Her eyes were shining, her cheeks flushed with emotion.
“Please, Liv. I need you to trust me on this. I need you to understand why we have to keep this quiet, at least for now. Can you do that? Can you give me that, just for a little while?”
Olivia
The words hit me like a slap.
His expression screamed sheer, unadulterated panic, maybe even horror.
He threw back the curtain and scrambled out of the bunk, his body almost shaking. He started pacing and I slid to the edge of the bed, letting my legs dangle in the air as I watched him with dread choking me.
My belly churned, a sickening sense of foreboding stealing the air from my lungs. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be happy, elated, as dizzy with love and possibility as I was.
Not… this.
Not looking at me like I was a mistake, a regret, a problem to be solved.
“What…” I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice past the sudden lump in my throat. “What… what do you mean? I thought... last night, you were so happy. You said you wanted this.”
My mind raced back to the chapel, to the way he’d looked at me as we’d exchanged vows. The love, the certainty, the pure fucking elation shining in his eyes. Had I imagined it all?
“I was drunk, Liv!” He snapped, his voice rising. “We both were! Drunk and high on adrenaline and… and fucking caught up in the moment.” He tugged at his hair, the words falling from his lips rapid-fire. “But this… this is reality. Cold, hard reality. And the reality is that we fucked up, big time.”
“Fucked up?” I pushed myself off the bunk and landed on the floor in front of him, glaring up at him. “Is that what you think this is?”
“No, that’s not… shit.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I love you,” he said, his voice softer now but no less desperate. “You know I do. But this… it’s too much, too fast. We don’t have the luxury of living in denial, we have to face the reality of what we’ve done.”
Reality.
The word lodged in my chest like a shard of ice. Because the reality was this: I loved him. Loved him with a fierce, all-consuming intensity that I’d never known before. Loved him in a way that made me certain, down to my very marrow, that this was right. That he was it for me, my once-in-a-lifetime, written-in-the-stars soulmate.
As unexpected as it all was, I still wanted it with every fibre of my being. For him to claim he loved me and then… I couldn’t fathom how it could be true.
How could he look at me with such fear, such regret, when all I wanted to do was pull him close and never let go?
I couldn’t speak for a second. My eyes burned and my heart twisted in my chest.
“So that’s it then?” I asked, hating the way my voice shook. “Was it all just a drunken mistake to you? Something to undo and sweep under the rug as quickly as possible?”
He flinched, his eyes squeezing shut as if in pain. “That’s not… fuck. That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?” I demanded, the hurt morphing into something hotter, sharper. Anger, bubbling up from some deep, wounded place inside me. “Because from where I’m standing, it sounds a whole lot like ‘sorry Liv, but this was a huge mistake and I can’t wait to get out of it.’ Is that really how you feel?”
“I’m saying we need to be realistic!” He shouted, flinging his hands out in frustration. “We’re in the middle of a fucking tour, under a microscope every second of every day. If the press gets wind of this…”
“Oh, well, heaven forbid the press finds out,” I mocked, the words bitter on my tongue. “Imagine the scandal. Rock star marries girlfriend in Vegas. Stop the fucking presses.”
“You don’t get it.” His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “You don’t know what it’s like, to have every aspect of your life dissected and splashed across the tabloids. To have your privacy, your relationships, your fucking soul bared for public consumption.”
I softened slightly. “We can figure this out,” I said softly, reaching for his hand. “Together. That’s what marriage is, isn’t it? Facing the world as a team, no matter what comes our way.”
He stared at our joined hands, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a feather-light caress. The touch sent shivers down my spine, even now.
“I want to believe that.”
I could hear the ‘but’ even though he stopped short of voicing it. I shook off his grip, the fight draining from me the longer I stared into his pleading eyes. Did I actually stand a chance of convincing him to give this a shot?
“So what, then?” I asked quietly, my fingers twisting the ring on my finger. The metal was warm from my skin, the weight of it already feeling like a part of me. “We just pretend this never happened? Go back to stolen kisses in supply closets and clandestine hookups in hotel rooms?”
If it meant not losing him, I could do it. I think. It was better than the alternative—him not wanting me.
It turned my stomach, but I took off my own necklace and removed my rings, copying him. He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on the ring with a glint of fascination that relit my hope.
“Lewis!” Anderson called out from below. “If you’re still up there, Liv’s sound check is in thirty minutes. Maybe you could pass the message along.”
Sound check. The show. The tour. The reality of our lives, crashing back in with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball.
I patted myself down, my mind scrambling into business mode, working up a list of things I had to do before I could get to sound check.
First, find my purse. I fished it out of the bunk sheets and took off down the row of bunks, aiming for the small stairwell. I dragged my fingers through my hair, trying desperately to make myself look presentable for my mad dash into the stadium outside.
Get my bus bag. Take the fastest shower of my life. Sound check. Stop Lewis tearing my heart out and drawing up annulment papers. Easy peasy.
“You can’t just walk away from this!” Lewis called after me, his voice tight with frustration. “We have to deal with it, Liv. We can’t just ignore it and hope it goes away.”
“You deal with it,” I snapped.
“It’s not?—”
“Stop!” I got to the bottom and whirled on him, glaring at the stupid lug. I didn’t care that Anderson was right behind me, hearing every word.
I stared up at him, my heart a raw, aching wound in my chest. The urge to crumple, to fall into his arms and beg him not to do this, was almost overpowering. But I couldn’t.
I wouldn’t.
If he wanted out of this marriage, he was going to have to say it straight to my face, not hide behind excuses and fears.
“I’m going to go do my job. You go do whatever the fuck it is cowardly musicians do before a show.”
His mouth snapped shut and his jaw shifted, tensed. He stared at me with a fire in his eyes that would have made me tingly a few hours ago. Hell, I’d be a liar if I claimed it didn’t still. But that didn’t matter now.
“I’m not a coward,” he gritted out, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I’m trying to be smart about this. Trying to do what’s best for both of us.”
“What’s best for both of us?” I shook my head, a disbelieving laugh falling from my lips. “No, Lewis. You’re trying to do what’s easiest, what’s safest, what doesn’t force you to take a risk or face your fears.” I stepped closer, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze head-on. “But you know what? I don’t want safe. I don’t want easy. I want you, for better or worse, in sickness and health, all that jazz. I want us. So you need to decide, right here and now, if that’s what you want too.”
“We’ll talk after the show.”
I crossed my arms. “So you can force me to divorce you or so we can talk like adults and leave our fears at the door?”
He nodded, the movement jerky and pained.
My brows rose and my patience frayed to threads. “Which is it?”
“The last one.”
Which meant I had eight hours to come up with a game plan. Because Lewis Davies had another think coming if he thought I’d roll over so easily.
“Fine.”