Chapter 30
thirty
Josh
Kate hasn’t said a word since we left the club, and even though she waved me off, now that I know we’re in the same city, I’m half tempted to track that asshole down and prove what I said about protecting what’s mine.
She’s quiet in a way that guts me, worse than when we left her behind in Nashville.
Like she’s gone somewhere I can’t reach, and I hate it.
Hate him. Hate that he still has this much power over her.
That a few words from him can shatter all the pieces of herself she’s fought so hard to reclaim and set back all the progress she’s made.
We finally make it back to our rooms, but I’m not even sure she’s aware of where we are.
“Kate,” I say as the door clicks shut behind us. My voice is quiet, my movements cautious. I don’t want to scare her off or break whatever fragile thread she’s hanging on by.
But I want to fix it. Want to reach for her, hold her, do something—anything—but I freeze because I’ve never seen her like this.
Every instinct I have is screaming to go to her.
To hold her. To kiss her until it all disappears.
But what if I push too hard? What if she needs space and I crowd her? What if I make it worse?
I take one slow step closer and when she looks up at me, my heart breaks seeing the tears that line her eyes and the tension in her face from trying to hold them back for so long.
“Talk to me, sweetheart. Please.”
I reach up and gently cup her face in my hand, needing the contact like air.
Her silence stretches long enough to make my stomach twist as her eyes flick between mine.
She’s here, but not really. She’s somewhere deep inside herself and I don’t know how to reach her, and my heart is pounding harder with every second she doesn’t speak.
Just when I think she might not answer at all, she finally takes a deep, sharp inhale.
“He said I was playing pretend, and I just…god, sometimes I still feel like he’s right.
That I am pretending. That I’m just playing dress-up in a life that doesn’t really belong to me.
Like reality is going to slap me in the face when this ends and I have to leave and go back to…
” A mirthless laugh escapes her lips. “To nothing. I have nothing. No house. No furniture. Just the two boxes of whatever shit I didn’t bring on tour with me that I shipped to my dad’s house. I don’t…I don’t belong anywhere.”
I reach for her hand and bring her knuckles to my lips before I wrap her hand tightly in both of mine.
“You’re not pretending. You belong here. With Dani. With the band.” Gripping her chin gently with my fingers, I tip her face up and make sure her eyes are on mine when I say, “With me.”
She blinks, and the tears finally escape her eyes and roll down her cheeks.
“Fuck his opinion of you because he doesn’t matter. He’s not here. I am, and I see you. All of you. The parts you hide, the parts you share, the parts you don’t think anyone could ever love—I see them all, Kate.”
She leans forward and buries her face in my chest, and I wrap my arms around her. We stay like that for a long time, quiet and close, until I feel her finally start to relax in my arms.
I pick her up and carry her into the bathroom, setting her down on the counter before crossing the room to the tub and twisting the knobs, waiting for the water to reach her preferred temperature of boiling before plugging the drain and turning to face her.
“What are you doing?” she asks, raising her arms as I pull at the hem of her shirt, lifting it up and over her head.
“Taking care of you,” I say, tossing the shirt to the floor and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“Wait here,” I say, my lips brushing against her skin.
I step out of the bathroom and over to her suitcase, where I know she keeps a bag of self-care items—a travel size bottle of lavender bubble bath, bath bombs, essential oils, and face masks for nights when she’s feeling stressed or just wants to relax.
“What’ll it be tonight, sweetheart?” I ask, holding the bag out to her. She smiles for the first time since we left the club and digs through until she finds a blue, white, and yellow marbled bath bomb and hands it to me.
I set it on the counter next to her before extending my hand.
She takes it and hops off the counter to stand in front of me.
I remove the rest of her clothes, aching to devour every inch of her body with my eyes, but I keep them locked on hers because tonight isn’t about that.
Tonight is about her. Making sure she feels safe and loved and appreciated.
Threading my fingers though her hair, I pull it back into a low ponytail and twist it, tucking it against the back of her head and securing it with one of the clips lying on the counter behind her.
I scoop her back into my arms and carry her to the tub.
“Put your toes in first,” I say. “I want to make sure it’s not too hot.” She extends a leg until her toes dip beneath the water, and she hums.
“It’s perfect,” she says.
“Good.” I plant a quick kiss on her lips before lowering her into the water. I try to pull pack, but her arms tighten around my neck.
“Where are you going?” she asks, mouth turning down into an adorable pout.
“I was going to let you enjoy this bath,” I say.
“I would enjoy it more if you were in here with me.”
“Tonight is about you, sweetheart. Whatever you want. Whatever you need. There are no strings. No expectations.”
“I want you,” she whispers against my lips.
“Always.” She pulls me into a slow kiss, and I melt into her.
When I pull back again, she lets me, sliding her arms from around my neck and settling back into the tub.
I crouch down and reach out to tuck a rogue strand of hair behind her ear, my palm resting against her face, my thumb stroking her cheek.
“Being wanted by you is a privilege, Kate,” I say. “One I will never take for granted.”
I stand and remove my clothes before stepping into the water behind her, letting her lean back against my chest. She lets out a contented sigh that settles deep in my bones.
Kate has been my calm in the storm for months, but knowing she finds the same sort of comfort in me—chaos in human form—does something to me.
No one has ever needed me like this before. Not without expecting something in return. Not without conditions. And for once in my life, I don’t feel too loud or too much. I feel steady. I feel at peace.
I wrap my arms around her middle, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. Her fingers find mine under the water, weaving between them like we were always meant to fit together this way.
She tilts her head back, resting it against my shoulder as the silence settles around us, the only sounds are our steady breaths and the fizz of the dissolving bath bomb.
I smile and hold her a little tighter, not because I think she’ll slip away, but because I know she’s the one thing that won’t.