Chapter 5
five
Kate
People don’t notice you when you’re there, so what makes you think they would miss you when you’re gone?
The voice has been taunting me for hours because…they left me.
There were five people in that greenroom tonight—my best friend included—and every single one of them forgot about me. Just…picked up their stuff and left.
As hard as I’ve been trying to forget Anthony’s words, something like this happens and proves that he wasn’t just an asshole, he was right.
It took everything I had to hold it together in the van, but as soon as I threw the lock on the door between Josh’s room and mine, I collapsed onto the floor and let it all out.
I should resign. I’m already home. I could leave this all behind and be at my dad’s house in twenty minutes.
I don’t know what I’m trying to prove by being here.
Whether it’s Josh calling me some other name or being left behind at the arena, the signs are all there—I don’t belong here.
In this world, surrounded by beautiful people who command attention.
I never felt like blending into the background here was a bad thing.
Not until I was left behind by the one person who’s always seen me no matter where we were, and I can’t shake the feeling that if my best friend can’t even remember I’m here, then Anthony was right.
No one has ever noticed me, and they never will.
I wake before my alarm and drag myself to the bathroom, groaning as I look at myself in the mirror. My eyes are puffy from all the crying I did last night and it’s clear that no amount of concealer is going to save me today.
I pull my hair up into a messy bun, put my contacts in, and throw two eye masks under my eyes, praying like hell that because I paid a small fortune for them, they work some kind of miracle.
I already know there’s nothing on anyone’s schedule today until sound check, so it’s the perfect opportunity to make a nice, clean exit.
Dani can keep Josh together until he finds someone to replace me, and I can return home satisfied in knowing that I tried.
I lived outside my comfort zone and did something unexpected and unplanned.
Wheeling my suitcase from the corner of the room over to the bed, I load it up with my clothes before popping back into the bathroom to pack up my toiletries.
I’m about to brush my teeth when I hear a knock at the door connecting my room with Josh’s, so I peel my eye masks off, toss them in the trash, and head for the door.
Steadying myself with a deep breath, I unlock the deadbolt and turn the handle. Josh is standing on the other side of the door holding a bouquet of deep purple tulips and looking like someone just kicked his puppy.
“What the hell?” I ask, confused, as my heart stirs unexpectedly in my chest.
“I am so, so sorry,” he says. “I don’t even have an excuse for what happened last night.
Well, that’s not true. I do, but it’s not a good one.
Here.” He hands me the flowers, and I take them, my mouth still hanging open in shock.
“Not that I expect these to make up for any of it, but I know they’re your favorite and I—”
“How?” I ask.
“How what?”
“How do you know they’re my favorite?”
“I asked Dani,” he says, looking away as if embarrassed. “Your favorite flowers are tulips, and your favorite color is purple.” His eyes move around the room behind me—avoiding mine completely—before landing on the bed. I swallow nervously knowing the packed suitcase is what he sees next.
“Are you…leaving?” he asks, his eyes darting back to mine.
I nod. “Fuck, no. Please, don’t leave.” He runs his hands through his hair and starts pacing his room.
“Look, what happened last night had absolutely nothing to do with you, I swear. I have…” he stops pacing and seems to think about his next words before shaking his head once and continuing to pace.
“I’m shit at remembering things—not that I need to remind you of that—and after you left the greenroom, we started ribbing Eric about Tyler, and he said he was leaving and I just…
followed him. And then I started thinking about the show and I…
” he stops pacing and crosses the room to stand in front of me again.
“Please don’t go. I need you. I need your help.
Clearly. It wasn’t you. I need you to believe me. ”
I’m probably falling back into old habits and trusting when I shouldn’t, but there’s something about the way he looks at me and the sincerity in his voice that makes me believe him. That what happened last night was nothing more than a simple mistake.
“Fine,” I say, setting the flowers down on the TV stand beside me and crossing my arms in front of my chest. “I’ll stay. But if you forget me again, I reserve the right to punch you in your pretty little face.”
“That’s fair,” he says, raising his hands in surrender.
And with that, the weight is lifted, and we fall right back into the effortless back-and-forth that I love so much. Despite his larger-than-life personality, Josh is the easiest person to get along with—his shitty memory notwithstanding.
“I’m going out to do a thing,” he says, motioning over his shoulder with his thumb. “Want to join me? I owe you a coffee. And probably also my soul. But if we could start with coffee and then work our way up, that’d be great.”
I snort a laugh and excuse myself to get dressed. Once I’m presentable, I meet Josh in his room, and we walk to the nearest coffee shop before he drags me across the street by the arm and ducks into an Office Depot.
I’m about to ask a myriad of questions when he turns down an aisle and stops in front of the Post-it notes. He grabs a pack of the brightest colors they have and then continues searching the store until he finds the Sharpies. Pulling a pack for four black ones off the rack, he turns and grins.
“I have…so many questions,” I say, watching as he opens one of the packs of Post-its and then the Sharpies, writes something on the top note, then peels it off and sticks it to my forehead. I blink at him.
“I’m marking everything that’s important,” he says, a proud smile plastered on his face. “Starting with you.”
I, for the first time since I met him, am at a loss for words.
“I’m…honored?” I say, reaching up to peel the Post-it off my face. I turn it, expecting to see some sort of smart-ass comment or a joke, but it simply says Kate, underlined three times.
“Come on, Kim,” he says, stepping around me and to the registers up front. “I’ve got shit to label!”
I sigh.
Apparently, I removed the Post-it too soon.
I see my dad before he sees me, and my heart swells.
He’s wearing his familiar, worn-out ball cap and a denim jacket, walking with a stoop to his shoulders from a life spent in construction that retirement hasn’t quite fixed yet.
He scans the diner, grinning wide when our eyes meet, and I can’t help but match his smile.
Standing from the booth, he closes the distance between us in a heartbeat, and I feel more relaxed than I have in a long time as soon as he wraps me up in his arms.
“Hey kiddo,” he says.
“Hi Dad,” I whisper. He pulls back, grinning like a fool, and takes my face in his hands as he looks me over from head to toe before pulling me back into a hug.
“How are ya?” he asks, his light Tennessee drawl popping through on the last word. We finally let each other go and slide into opposite sides of the booth.
“Good,” I say. “How are you? Bored yet?”
He snorts. “Bored? Are you kidding? I’m living the dream. I sleep until nine, watch The Price is Right, take naps just because I feel like it, and yell at this fucking squirrel who keeps eating from the bird feeder. It’s the most peace I’ve had in forty years.”
I shake my head, grinning as the waitress sets down two glasses of water and takes our order.
“How’s life on the road?” he asks, taking a sip of water and watching me over the rim of his glass like he still can’t quite believe I’m here, touring with the biggest names in music.
“Busy, but fun. A lot more fun than I thought it would be, actually. Everyone’s been really welcoming, and the guys in the band are so down to earth. There’s been none of the diva behavior I was expecting.”
I thought I’d be dodging egos the size of tour buses and fielding stupid demands like stocking the greenroom with individual bowls of M&Ms separated by color.
I expected late nights, chaos, and temper tantrums. It’s been hectic—but it’s also been surprisingly…
normal. These rock icons treat me like a human being and eat takeout in their sweats and argue over which fast food place has the best fries.
“You look lighter than the last time I saw you.”
I glance down at the table. “I think I’m finally figuring out how to be me. You know, outside of other people’s rules and expectations.”
He nods, the teasing tone gone for a moment. “Good. You were always meant to stand on your own. Just don’t forget that standing on your own doesn’t mean you are alone.”
“Thanks,” I say, reaching across the table and squeezing his hand.
I move to pull away, but his fingers tighten around mine, so I keep my hand in his, content to share a moment like this with the man who raised me.
The man who taught me how to be strong without ever raising his voice.
Who showed up for every recital, every sporting event, every broken heart, and every milestone, with strong arms and a quiet, steady kind of love that never asked for anything in return.
He doesn’t say anything—he just holds on like he needs the moment as much as I do, and I can’t help but smile.
Because no matter how much my life changes, no matter who I become or where I go or how miserably I fail at this thing called life, I know he’ll always be there with steady hands to lift me back up.
Watching Josh on stage is like watching a summer storm. He’s thrilling, unpredictable, and impossible to look away from. He commands the crowd effortlessly, and there is no doubt in my mind that he was born for this.
Every movement is precise but unrestrained. His confidence and energy are mesmerizing. As is the cocky grin he flashes the crowd and the way the stage lights catch the sweat glistening on top of the paint covering his upper body.
Tonight, a razor-sharp line runs from beneath his jaw to the waistband of his jeans, the entire left side of his body painted in deep, unforgiving black. He looks unreal—like a living piece of art.
And yet, there are moments where it’s almost hard to reconcile this version of him with the one I’ve gotten to know.
The one who forgets where he left his phone multiple times a day or gets distracted mid-sentence because some lyrics popped into his head or he saw a cloud that was shaped like a bunny.
But somehow, both versions exist seamlessly, and I almost feel like the contrast is what makes him so fascinating.
I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the crowd tonight is even wilder than last night, and I can tell Josh is riding the high, putting more power and emotion into his voice and not bothering to hide his smile between verses.
He holds out the mic, letting the crowd take over, then laughs like he’s just as caught up in it as they are.
He’s feeding off their energy, bouncing across the stage and pointing at fans who scream the words back at him.
He yanks the in-ear monitor out of his right ear halfway through “Fall,” laughing with unfiltered joy at how loud the crowd is singing the lyrics—myself, Tyler, and Dani included.
“Nashville!” he says into the mic after the song ends. “I’m not bullshitting when I say that you are the rowdiest bunch of motherfuckers we’ve seen yet!” The crowd erupts again, and Josh laughs.
“I think we should just do the rest of the tour here,” Max says, leaning into his mic and looking at Josh. The crowd roars louder. “Fuck everybody else, these guys know how to have a good time!”
Every song fuels the crowd into a frenzy that feeds right back into the band, and even from where we stand at the back of the floor, I can feel the high of it. This is the kind of night that reminds you why people chase this life in the first place.
The rest of the show passes far too quickly, and before I know it, we’re heading back across the city to enjoy one last night in a hotel before a long, two-week stretch on the road in the RVs.
We all part ways in the hall, Josh and I ducking into his suite to begin our wind-down routines.
He heads straight to his bathroom to shower, and I meander into my room to extract my contact lenses, wash my face, change into my pajamas, and cue up an old rom-com to pull me into a deep and dreamless sleep.
It isn’t until I’m five minutes into The Holiday that I realize I left the door between our rooms open.
I groan, entirely too comfortable to get up, and decide it can stay open.
It’s not like either of us are doing anything particularly scandalous tonight, and if Josh decides he wants to, then he can close the door himself.
A few minutes later, he appears in the doorway, freshly showered and wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants, his damp curls falling past his shoulders under the weight of the water.
“What are you up to?” he asks.
“Watching a movie.”
“Anything good?”
“Probably not according to you,” I say, raising the remote to pause it. He walks into the room and looks at the TV.
“The Holiday?” he asks. “What’s it about?”
“It’s a chick flick,” I say. “Nothing you’d be interested in watching.”
“Hey,” he says, spinning to face me and crossing his toned arms over his even more toned chest. “Just because I don’t believe in love doesn’t mean I want everyone to be miserable and alone.”
“Fine,” I say, tapping the bed next to me. “Prove it.” I expect him to do what Anthony always did when I asked him to watch a movie with me—roll his eyes and walk away, but to my surprise, he climbs into bed next to me and props himself up against the headboard and extra pillows.
“Better start it over,” he says. I look up at him and he winks. “I wouldn’t want to be lost in the complex, unpredictable plot.”
I chuck a pillow into his midsection and laugh as he grunts, and I start from the beginning.