Chapter 21
twenty-one
Josh
The remnants of tonight’s show swirl down the drain, vanishing between my feet.
Just as I expected, the Newark crowd was wilder than Philly’s last night, and now I’m stuck in that strange space between the adrenaline rush and the deep urge to collapse into bed next to Kate one last time before we’re back on the road.
Back to our new reality of separate RVs and distance and boundaries and professionalism.
All the things I’ve grown to hate over the last few days.
I should take full advantage of the situation and bury myself so deep inside her I can’t tell where she ends and I begin. Lose myself in her breathy moans and the way she says my name when she comes.
But something happened at dinner the other night that has been nagging at me. It was the way her whole body tensed when she brought up her ex, like it remembered things her mouth wasn’t ready to say.
I want to know what he did to her—what he broke, what he buried, what she’s had to dig up and rebuild. I want to understand all the ways he made her feel small, so I can help her feel invincible.
Because if he burned her down to ash, I want to be the one who helps her rise like a phoenix. To be the one who stands close enough to shield the wind while she finds her fire again. To remind her she was meant to burn bright and wild and untamed.
I exit the shower and get myself ready for bed, smiling when I step out of the bathroom to find Kate where she belongs—in by bed, curled up and waiting for me wearing one of my t-shirts.
“So,” she says, a sultry smile curling her lips. “What’s your wind-down routine include these days? Watching a rom-com or fucking me?”
God damn it.
I swallow so hard I nearly choke on it while my brain screams, Pick option B! Pick option B!
“Actually,” I manage, voice rough, eyes absolutely not drifting to the hem of my shirt that’s resting dangerously high on her thighs. “I was hoping we could talk.”
She blinks and the sultry little smile falters. She looks disappointed. Like I just answered a question wrong on a test I didn’t know I was taking.
“Talk?” she asks, skeptical. Like the word is foreign and she’s never heard a man choose that option over sex in the history of, well, ever.
“Yeah, talk.” I step closer, as if being within touching distance will help me stay focused.
“Not exactly rockstar behavior, I know,” I say, sitting next to her on the bed.
“But you said something the other night, and it’s been rattling around in my skull ever since. So, I’d like to take a little detour.”
She stares at me, and I swear to god, if she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, this plan is over. I’ll fold like a cheap lawn chair and the only talking she’ll be doing is moaning my name.
But she doesn’t. She just watches me. Curious and a little surprised, and even though I’m about nine seconds away from grabbing her and doing things that would make a porn star blush…I meant what I said.
We’re going to talk.
Even if it kills me.
“I want to know more about your ex, if that’s alright.”
“Oh,” she looks away and starts picking at the skin around her fingernails, already letting me know this is going to be a difficult conversation for her to have.
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” I say. “I just want to understand you better, that’s all. No pressure. No expectations.”
Kate drags in a slow breath, her shoulders lifting slightly with it.
She glances at me from under her lashes, and for a second, I see the war she’s fighting inside her head—debating whether to play it safe and avoid the conversation or be brave and face whatever darkness comes from going down this road.
I reach over and place my hand on her thigh, slowly moving my thumb back and forth in hopes that she’ll find some comfort in my touch. Remember that I’m not him. I’m not here to hurt her. I’m here to help pick up the pieces and put her back together stronger than she was before.
“What do you want to know?” she asks.
“You mentioned that he never got physical with you, but I’ve noticed you tense around sudden movements or loud noises.”
Her brow creases.
“He…yelled. A lot. Most of the time it was unexpected. We’d be fine—even-keeled and having a normal conversation—and then suddenly, something would set him off and he was in my face, shouting at me.
” She pauses, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear twice.
“He never touched me, but he came close. There were a few times, toward the end, where he would cage me in against a wall and…” She swallows.
“He’d rear back like he was going to hit me but punch the wall instead.
Right next to my head. Or if I managed to get away from him, he’d grab whatever object was close and throw it in my direction. ”
The hand that isn’t touching her thigh flexes at my side, itching to hit something.
“I didn’t realize my reactions were noticeable.
” Her voice is even, but her hands fidget restlessly in her lap, and I realize that without even trying, I’ve picked up on her tells.
The way her fingers twitch when she’s anxious, the way she bites the inside of her cheek when she’s holding something back, or that when she tucks her hair behind her ear twice in a row, she’s nervous but trying to seem like she’s okay.
For the first time in my life, I’ve catalogued details. Not because someone told me to pay closer attention, but because when it comes to Kate, how can I not pay attention?
“You said he isolated you?” I ask.
“Yes. Then he convinced me that he was the only one who would ever love me. That being with him was a privilege because no one wanted me, and I would never find anyone else. Pointed out how easily everyone had pulled away from me to prove his point, even though it had been him pulling me away.
“My mom left my dad and me when I was three and he loved to use that against me. Would constantly remind me that if my own mother didn’t want me—” Her voice breaks, and she closes her eyes.
I shift on the bed and move closer, pulling her into my lap and wrapping my arms around her while she takes the time she needs to collect herself.
I don’t even know the man, but the rage I feel inside is visceral. It’s beyond comprehension, how anyone could treat someone they claim to love with such cruelty, especially someone like Kate.
Kate, who radiates kindness. Who cares about everyone so deeply.
Who has a way of making me feel like I’m the only person in the room.
Who remembers the little things, even when I can’t.
Who brings calm to the chaos in my head without even trying.
Who makes me want to be better. Not for the cameras, not for the band, but for her. Because it’s what she deserves.
“The only person who refused to fall for his bullshit was Dani,” she says, bringing me out of my head and back to the conversation.
“She tried to tell me so many times, but again, he played his game. Convinced me that she was jealous that I’d met him, and that meant she didn’t have all my attention anymore.
“Looking back at that time in my life, it’s all so obvious now, but I’m afraid…” she trails off and shakes her head.
“You’re afraid what?” I ask, moving my hand up and down her back in slow, soothing strokes. She closes her eyes and lets out a deep exhale.
“That he’s so ingrained in my brain that I’ll never be able to shake him. That for the rest of my life, he’ll be that voice in my head reminding me that I’m everything he made me believe I am.”
A tear slides down her cheek, and I swipe it away with my thumb.
“That voice?” I say quietly. “It lies.” She shakes her head. “It does, Kate. Because I know you, and I know none of that shit he made you believe is true. Not even close.”
“How can you be so sure?” she whispers. “You don’t really know me or the things he said.”
I may not know the words he said, but I know the damage he’s done.
I’ve seen the way she flinches at compliments, like they come with strings.
The way she seems to analyze every smile or positive interaction she has with someone, like she’s waiting for the “gotcha.” The way she flinches and goes quiet when someone raises their voice, even if it’s not at her.
I see the way she second-guesses her own brilliance because some asshole made her think she needed permission to shine.
“It doesn’t matter what he said,” I say, and she shakes her head like she’s preparing to argue.
“It doesn’t matter what he said,” I say again, taking her face in my hands and forcing her eyes to mine.
“Because I know you well enough to know that if anyone has a negative opinion of you,” I pause, swallowing the knot of emotion that grows in my throat at the look of uncertainty in her eyes.
“Then they don’t know a goddamn thing about you. ”
She looks like she’s about to fall apart and I’ve never wanted to be someone’s safety net more than I do right now.
“I don’t always know the difference,” she admits. “Between what’s real and what he put in my head. It’s almost like I don’t even know who I really am anymore.”
“Then I’ll remind you,” I say. “Every time you forget what’s real, I’ll remind you.
” She takes a ragged breath as I push her hair over her shoulder.
“You are kind.” I kiss her cheek. “Brilliant.” I press a kiss to her other cheek.
“Funny.” A kiss to her nose. “So goddamn beautiful.” One to her lips.
“And you’re stronger than you know, Kate. ”
Tears are falling from her eyes in rapid succession, and I wipe them away. “You’re not broken or damaged or ruined. You’re healing. We’ll fight that voice together, alright? I’m going to make sure the only voice you hear in that pretty little head of yours from now on is mine.”
She smiles and wipes at the few tears that remain on her cheeks before taking another deep breath.
“Alright, your turn,” she says. “What was the situation with your ex-wife?”
I’m not sure I’m ready for this conversation, but I can tell she needs to shift the focus away from her, so I blow out a breath.
“Her name was Emily. We met shortly after my parents announced their divorce. They’d always seemed so happy together and learning that it had all been an act turned my entire world upside down.
I think, at the time, I was desperately trying to cling to the idea that love could last forever so I fell fast and hard.
We met and were married within a year. Then divorced less than two years later.
“Hindsight being what it is, I realize that I wasn’t falling in love, I was drowning in fear.
Terrified that if I didn’t grab onto something—to someone—I’d end up alone.
I don’t really know if I ever truly loved her, but I loved the idea of her.
The idea that she might be the one to save me from what I was so afraid of.
“When the cracks started showing, I taped over them with whatever scraps of hope I could find, because admitting it wasn’t right would’ve felt like admitting my parents were right—that true, lasting love doesn’t exist. And if love didn’t exist, then what the hell was I even doing?”
I swallow hard because, there it is. The ugliest part of it all.
The part I’ve never actually admitted out loud.
I wasn’t trying to build a future, I was trying to outrun my past. To avoid something that I, for whatever reason, had come to assume was inevitable.
That if my parents, two people who I had always assumed were head over heels for each other couldn’t make it work, then I never would either.
“She was really supportive of my career at first,” I continue, “but fame is a funny thing. Everyone thinks they want it until they have it. The band took off almost overnight, and it proved to be more than she signed up for, so she wanted out. And maybe it’s selfish, but a big part of me was relieved, because if she hadn't ended it first, I don’t know if I would’ve had the strength to walk away.
And I needed to walk away, I just didn’t know it at the time.
“I could have fought for her, chosen her over my career, but I didn’t. This has always been my dream, and I wanted to share it with someone, not leave it behind for them.”
“Do you ever regret it?” she asks.
“No,” I say, honestly. “I know I made the right choice. It was a civil split, but it doesn’t mean it wasn’t fucking awful to go through.
Divorce is hard no matter how amicable, but I’d rather have gone through the pain of losing her, than losing the band and staying married to someone I would have eventually resented. ”
It took me a long time to come to terms with that truth. That divorce wasn’t the massive failure I’d lead myself to believe. The real failure would have been staying. Living a lie. Pretending it was what I wanted while the truth ate me alive.
I can feel the weight of everything hanging in the silence between us—the ghosts of old love, the scars left behind, and the ache of trying to move forward without tripping over the past.
Eventually, Kate shifts closer, resting her head on my chest.
“I’m glad you did what was best for you,” she says softly. “Even if it hurt.”
I press a kiss to the top of her head. “Me too.”
We sit in silence for a long moment, neither feeling the urge to fill the quiet. Her fingers trace lazy circles on my chest, and I let my hand slide over her shoulders, centering myself in the feel of her.
She’s here. With me. For tonight, at least. Tomorrow, the road pulls us in different directions again, but tonight, I get to hold her. Talk to her. Love her the way she deserves to be loved.
And even though my brain is already coming up with new ways to fuck it up, I push the noise and chaos to the side and just let myself be with her.
One night at a time.