19
Phoenix
I sat in the living area of the bus, my laptop balanced on my knees as I scrolled through emails and scheduled press interviews for the band.
The usual chaos of the road had, for once, been replaced by something almost resembling calm.
Zephyr was sprawled across the couch with his arms behind his head, eyes half-closed but still somehow alert, while Parker sat at the small table across from me, tapping at his phone.
Kage was thumbing through a book on the opposite side of the room.
For the first time in what felt like forever, there were no snide remarks, no barbs thrown my way, and no underlying tension.
Just… peace.
It had been nearly a week since their half-apology, half-truce, and to my surprise, they’d more or less stuck to their word.
No one had outright said it, but they were treating me like a member of their group rather than the enemy.
And for the first time since I started this job, I wasn’t constantly on edge, waiting for the next snarky comment or passive-aggressive jab.
It was a relief, honestly.
My job had been hard enough without adding the constant tension to it, and now that they were actually cooperating, I found myself being more productive than ever.
Hell, I was even ahead on scheduling interviews, something that hadn’t happened since I came aboard.
But as I typed out yet another confirmation email, I couldn’t shake the nagging thought that this new dynamic came with its own set of problems.
They were treating me like a friend now.
Or at least something close to it.
That should have been a good thing—it made everything easier, smoother.
The more they acted like this, the more I relaxed around them, and the easier it became to do my job.
But that’s where the danger crept in.
The more time I spent with them like this, the more I noticed… them.
Kage, quiet and brooding, always a little distant but with a gaze that could burn right through you if he chose to focus it.
Zephyr, charismatic and effortlessly confident, his sharp wit a double-edged sword that cut deep but could also make you laugh when you least expected it.
And Parker… he was the wild card.
Rough around the edges but with a magnetic energy that drew people to him.
Including me.
I shifted in my seat, pretending that the constant buzz of attraction wasn’t there, gnawing at the edges of my mind.
But the truth was, even with the suppressant pills dulling my senses, even with the scent neutralizer I sprayed on myself religiously, I was struggling to keep it all in check.
And the worst part? They had no idea.
Or, at least, I hoped they didn’t.
Because the second they found out the truth—that I had been lying to them this whole time—their attitudes would shift again, and I wasn’t sure I could handle it.
I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face before taking a sip of water.
This was a temporary job.
It wasn’t like I was going to be stuck with them forever.
Just get through the tour, manage their press, and then I could go back to my life, to being me, without the constant worry of them figuring out what I was or who I was to them.
But as I glanced over at Zephyr, who caught my eye and flashed me a half-smile, my stomach twisted.
He was the worst of them all—not because he was cruel, but because when he let his guard down, he was actually… kind of charming.
And that made everything ten times harder.
I smiled back, quickly averting my gaze to my laptop as I felt a blush creep up my neck.
This was dangerous.
“How’s it going over there, Nix?”
Parker’s voice broke through my spiraling thoughts, drawing my attention back to the present. He wasn’t looking at me, just casually scrolling through his phone.
“Fine,”
I answered, “just setting up the next round of interviews for when we hit Washington.”
“Sounds like a pain,”
Zephyr said from the couch.
I shrugged. “Not as bad as it used to be.”
Parker’s eyes flicked up to meet mine, and for a second, I thought I saw something in them—something like recognition. Did he know? Had he figured it out? Is that why they were treating me differently?
I forced myself to stay calm, focusing on the laptop screen in front of me. “You guys are actually behaving now, so it’s not as bad.”
Kage let out a soft grunt, flipping another page of his book without looking up. Zephyr snorted.
“Glad we could make your life a little easier,”
Parker muttered, though there was a teasing edge to his voice.
I exhaled, leaning back in my chair and closing the lid of my laptop. Maybe it was paranoia. Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but I couldn’t help the rising anxiety that, sooner or later, this whole charade was going to fall apart. Because as much as I told myself I didn’t want a pack of assholes, every day with them was chipping away at my resolve. And I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep pretending.
◆◆◆
The sound of the crowd still roared in my ears as I wandered backstage, my mind spinning from the adrenaline of the show. Zephyr had put on a hell of a performance, as he always did, commanding the stage like he owned it. But something about the way he stormed off immediately after the final note had me on edge. His energy tonight had been off—intense, yes, but darker than usual. There was no post-show camaraderie, no smug grin plastered on his face like there usually was when he knew they’d nailed a set. Instead, he’d left without a word, tension radiating from him like heat off a fire.
I found him in a quiet corner of the backstage area, sitting on one of the old, worn couches, his elbows on his knees, hands tangled in his hair. He was staring at the floor, his face hidden in the shadows cast by the dim light overhead. Something about the way he was hunched over, barely breathing, screamed that this wasn’t just post-show exhaustion. It was something deeper.
“Zephyr,”
I said softly, approaching him slowly, unsure of how close I should get.
He didn’t look up. “Not now, Phoenix.”
His voice was flat, strained. But I didn’t leave. I’d seen this before—the way people withdraw when they’re on the edge of something, trying to hold it all together. And as much as Zephyr could be an insufferable ass, I knew there was more to him than the arrogant front he put up. I’d seen glimpses of it over the past few weeks, and right now, he looked like a man on the verge of falling apart.
I moved closer, careful not to crowd him. “I’m not leaving you like this.”
He finally glanced up, his dark eyes narrowed, irritation flashing across his face. “I said not now.”
“And I said I’m not leaving.”
I crossed my arms, standing my ground. I wasn’t going to let him push me away, not when he looked like he was barely holding it together. “Talk to me, Zephyr.”
He let out a harsh, bitter laugh, sitting back on the couch and glaring up at me. “You don’t get it, Princess. You don’t know what it’s like to feel this way. To feel like everything is slipping through your fingers and you can’t fucking stop it. So don’t stand there and pretend like you can fix me with a few kind words.”
His anger stung, but I didn’t back down. I could feel the frustration radiating off him in waves. His body was coiled tight with tension, ready to snap. I also knew this wasn’t about me. I suspected it was probably withdrawal. The last week had been different—no wild nights out, no excess. The guys had stuck to beer, no hard liquor or drugs. And as for him, I wasn’t even sure if he had indulged in his usual vice of women.
“I’m not here to fix you,”
I said calmly, “but I do know what it’s like to lose control.”
He scoffed, looking away. “Yeah, sure you do. Miss Perfect, always keeping everyone in line.”
My heart raced as the words hovered on the tip of my tongue, threatening to spill out. I wasn’t supposed to let anyone know about my past, least of all Zephyr, but he was spiraling, and if I could help him—if being vulnerable myself would pull him out of this pit—I was willing to take the risk.
“I do know,”
I said quietly, sitting down across from him. “You’re not the only one who’s dealt with losing control. And you’re not the only one who’s had to fight like hell to get it back.”
His eyes flicked to mine, disbelief written all over his face. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I was making a mistake. But then I took a deep breath and said, “I had my own battle with addiction. It wasn’t long ago, either. I know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning, like you’re powerless to stop yourself from sinking deeper. I know what it’s like to be scared that you’ll never be the same again.”
Zephyr stared at me, his anger faltering. He leaned forward slightly, and his brows furrowed. “You’re serious?”
I nodded, keeping my gaze steady. “I don’t talk about it, and I won’t bore you with the details, but it’s the truth. I get it, Zephyr. I get the fear. The frustration. The feeling that no matter how hard you try, you can’t keep control.”
For a moment, neither of us said anything. The tension between us shifted, softening, as if the raw truth of my admission had punctured the bubble of anger surrounding him. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.
“I hate it,”
he muttered, his voice low. “I hate feeling like this. It’s why I drown myself in booze and pussy.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, nodding. “I know.”
“I hate that the label is breathing down my neck, that they’re acting like I’m going to fall apart any second. And I hate—”
He cut himself off, his jaw tightening. “I hate not being in control of myself. Of my career. Of… everything.”
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I looked at him. “It’s okay to admit that. It doesn’t make you weak. You’re under so much pressure, and sometimes… sometimes it’s too much for anyone to handle on their own.”
He shook his head, laughing bitterly. “Yeah, well, I don’t have a choice, do I? I have to face the music when I’m sober.”
“You don’t have to carry it all by yourself,”
I said softly, feeling the weight of his struggle in every word he spoke. “You’ve got the band. You’ve got people who care about you. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
He looked up at me. The anger had drained from his face, leaving behind a raw, open wound. He didn’t speak, but the silence between us was louder than any words he could’ve said.
Zephyr was scared of losing himself, scared of failing. And in that moment, I realized just how much we had in common.
“Come on,”
I said, standing up and extending my hand to him. He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t take it right away. “I’ve got just the thing to help.”
He looked at me suspiciously. “What now?”
I rolled my eyes. “Just trust me, okay?”
After a moment of hesitation, he sighed and took my hand. His palm was warm against mine, and for a second, the brief contact made me wonder if this was a terrible idea. But I pushed the thought aside and tugged him to his feet.
“Where are we going?”
he asked as I led him through the backstage area and out toward the buses.
“You’ll see.”
He grumbled under his breath, but followed without any more resistance. I kept walking, ignoring the confused looks from a few of the roadies as we passed by. Finally, we reached the bus, and I stopped at the door, turning to look at him.
“Get your workout clothes on,” I said.
Zephyr blinked at me, clearly confused. “Workout clothes? Princess, I haven’t worked out in—”
“Yeah, yeah, years, I’m sure,”
I interrupted, rolling my eyes again. “Just put something on that you can move in. We’re not going to sit around feeling sorry for ourselves all night.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, clearly skeptical, but he didn’t argue. Instead, with a sigh, he disappeared into the bus to change. I followed inside to change into my own gear and tried not to think too hard about what I’d just gotten myself into. Maybe this wasn’t the best way to handle whatever Zephyr was going through, but I figured it was better than letting him stew in his anger and frustration all night. Besides, working out always helped clear my head.
A few minutes later, he came out in a faded T-shirt and sweatpants. He looked about as thrilled as someone on their way to a dentist appointment, but at least he was here.
“Alright,”
he muttered. “Where to?”
I smirked, motioning for him to follow back off the bus. We walked a little farther down the row of buses until we reached the one where the roadies hung out. Inside a pull-up marquee was a makeshift gym—nothing too fancy, just a few machines, some weights, and enough space to get a solid workout in. It wasn’t glamorous, but it worked for me.
The moment we stepped inside, the roadies greeted me warmly, offering smiles and waves. One of them, Jack, tossed me a towel as I walked past.
“Phoenix! Good to see you, girl. Here for your usual?”
“Yep,”
I said, catching the towel with a grin. “Just dragging this one along for the ride.”
Zephyr glanced around, clearly surprised by the easy familiarity between me and the crew. His eyes flicked back to me, curiosity sparking. “You come here a lot?”
“Every morning,”
I said with a shrug. “While you guys are still sleeping. Gotta burn off some energy somehow.”
“Really?”
he asked, his voice laced with disbelief.
I shot him a look, raising an eyebrow. “What, you’re surprised?”
He smirked, leaning back slightly as his eyes appraised me. “It’s not that. Just didn’t peg you for the workout type.”
“Shows how much you know,”
I teased, heading toward one of the machines and gesturing for him to follow. “Besides, it’s better than what you’ve been doing lately. Whatever that is clearly isn’t working for you.”
Zephyr let out a low chuckle as he followed me. “And what do you think that is?”
I didn’t bother to answer, just smiled as I watched him settle into a nearby weight machine. He fiddled with the settings for a moment before glancing back at me.
“I haven’t done this in years,”
he muttered, his voice half-apologetic.
I glanced over his broad shoulders and toned arms, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “Seriously? I wouldn’t have guessed.”
He smirked, flexing his arms as he tested the weight. “I had other ways of working out.”
“Of course you did,”
I muttered, shaking my head as I tried to stifle a laugh. “Because that’s so typical of you.”
Zephyr shot me a look, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Maybe getting him in here wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
We spent the next hour working out together. I led him through a few exercises, and to my surprise, he didn’t complain too much. Sure, there was some grumbling under his breath, but nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn’t until we were halfway through that he started to loosen up, the tension slowly leaving his body with each rep.
At one point, while we were both doing leg presses, he glanced over at me, his brow furrowed slightly. “This isn’t exactly what I like to do after a concert.”
I glanced back at him. “Partying really wasn’t working out so well for you guys.”
His lips curled into a mischievous grin, but there was a touch of something darker behind it. “Usually I’d blow off steam in… other ways.”
Of course. I should’ve known.
“Well,”
I said, returning my focus to the machine in front of me and trying to hide the pain of him mentioning fucking other people, “maybe adding this to your routine will actually help you.”
He didn’t respond, and after a few seconds, I heard him let out a soft grunt as he pushed through the exercise. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to let me know that, at least for now, he wasn’t fighting me on this.
We continued in silence for a while, both of us focused on the workout. It was strangely peaceful, the rhythm of the exercise grounding us both in a way I hadn’t expected. For the first time in what felt like days, Zephyr seemed calmer, more present. Maybe he wasn’t completely out of his head yet, but this was a start.
As we finished up, Zephyr wiped the sweat from his brow and leaned back against the wall, catching his breath. He glanced over at me, and for a moment, there was something softer in his expression.
“Thanks,”
he muttered, barely loud enough to hear.
I smiled, tossing him the towel. “Anytime.”