Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
D espite our nervousness, we do manage to get some sleep, but when morning arrives and there is no more news than before, we all feel the stress.
“Why don’t you two get out of here? We’ll be on the road later, and it’s going to be crazy for a few months. Go have a date or something,” Strike suggests. “We’ll call if there is any news.”
I know he’s doing it to stop me from pacing, but as I stare at Ryker, who perks up at the idea, I find I like it a lot. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”
“Absolutely,” he replies, pink tinging his cheeks. “Let me get dressed.” My eyebrows rise as he darts past me, smiling despite the situation.
He’s so fucking cute.
“Better go get ready. Your boyfriend is waiting,” Strike teases. Flipping him off, I go to the bathroom and find Ryker there, fussing with his hair. I lean into the door and watch him for a moment before he notices me.
“What?” he asks. “It’s our first date. Can’t I be excited?”
He looks down, and I hate the way his smile dims. I step inside, wrap my arms around him, and prop my chin on his shoulder. “You’ll never be as excited as I am, but whatever you do, you’ll look handsome.”
That makes him smile, and he keeps fussing with his hair. “Go get dressed,” he says, elbowing me.
Pressing my lips to his cheek, I dart away as he slaps me, and I get dressed and ready before him.
When he comes out, he looks good enough to eat, wearing an oversized sweater and loose pants with a jacket over the top.
“I thought we could try to go incognito,” he says before his eyes widen.
“Not that I’m ashamed or anything. I just thought that way it’s us?—”
“Adorable,” I call as he rambles. “Come on, baby.”
I hold out my hand, and he hurries to take it.
I flip off Strike and Dash, who mimic us, and we sneak out of the bus.
Avoiding security is easy, and I hold the gate for him, letting him duck out first, and then we are out on the street.
Our whoops of laughter echo around as we run from the venue as fast as we can.
Usually, we can leave if we want to, but Po wouldn’t let us right now.
No, this is our stolen time, and I love it.
“Where are we going?” he asks when we stop.
“Anywhere.” I look around since we don’t really know much about the area. We should probably stay close. “I should have made a plan,” I admit with a frown.
“Fuck plans. Let’s just go where we want.
” He pulls me after him, and we eventually find a main street.
We window shop for a while and just enjoy walking together, holding hands without a care.
We are just two men on a date, and it’s so fucking perfect.
I keep my sunglasses and my mask on just in case, so nobody ruins this for us.
We find some small boutiques and take pictures, trying on fur coats and funny hats until our camera is full of them. In the last shop, I find this perfect little signet ring, so I secretly buy it, and once we are outside, I turn to Ryker.
“Here.” I thrust the bag at him. His eyebrow rises, and he peeks inside, pulling out the box in confusion. I wait with my hands in my pockets, feeling nervous.
When he opens it, he stares for a while, and I grow anxious. “I know it isn’t like your designer stuff?—”
“I love it,” he whispers, sliding it onto his fingers, trying to find the right one before he puts it on his ring finger.
It fits perfectly. The gold is bright against his skin, the flat top displaying two interlaced hearts.
“It will be for us, so we know . . . unless you replace it with a diamond,” he teases.
Laughing, I drag him closer and hug him. “One day,” I say, knowing I will. When we are allowed to be together and there won’t be consequences, there will be a ring on his finger and he will be mine.
We haven’t been together long, but it doesn’t matter. I knew Ryker was the one the moment I met him.
“Come on, let’s find somewhere to eat,” I say, realizing we have just been standing together far longer than is normal.
We wander aimlessly, searching for something that feels right. We don’t want fancy food—we want home-cooked meals like we used to eat before everything started.
We eventually find a retro bar to eat at, and there’s a live band on stage despite the early afternoon time. We sing along as we eat, our smiles so wide they feel like our faces might break, and when a slow song comes on, I offer him my hand.
He takes it, and I tug him over to the small wooden dance floor. We are the only people on it, but I don’t care. His head rests against my chest and his hands are in mine as we rock to the song.
“I wish we could be like this forever,” he murmurs.
“Me too,” I say as I rest my chin on his head. “But it just means the time we do get is even more special.”
“Do you think one day we can be together without hiding?” he asks, propping his chin on my chest.
“Yes.” I rub his back comfortingly. “I have to believe we will be, but for now, this is enough for me. Is it enough for you?”
“As long as I have you,” he replies, a smile growing on his lips. “I still want that diamond though.”
“Brat,” I tease as I spin him around, his laughter filling the air. The song changes to an upbeat one, and we dance for a while, uncaring who is watching.
After eating, we just walk, enjoying our quiet time together. We take photos that are just meant for us and don’t worry about anyone watching, but as the sun starts to set, I know we have to get back. Both of us drag our feet, and at the gate, we share a look.
I kiss the back of his hand before I let go. “It’s still us,” I promise, and he nods as he slides inside. We head back over to the bus, our hands swinging so closely together they nearly touch, but not quite. We don’t want to take the risk.
When we round the front of the vehicle, we freeze.
Po is waiting for us, and he doesn’t look happy. “Pack your stuff. We are going home for a while.”
“What happened?” Ryker asks.
“Beck Danvers was attacked and badly hurt. They are postponing the tour.” He forces a smile. “Don’t worry, it will start again. It’s just a small break.” He claps his hands. “No dejected looks. We’ll take this time for more music, okay?”
That makes us groan, but as I look at Po, I see his worry, and I wonder how bad it was.
Is that why she left?
We arrive home the next day and unpack. None of us know when or if the tour will start up again or even how Beck is. It haunts us, leaving us all listless, so we decide to have a movie night.
We huddle around each other in the living room and turn on the TV to see the news. The name Dead Ringers stops me from changing it over to a movie.
We watch the news report in shock as it shows a motel room and reports that Beck Danvers survived a murderer. There isn’t much else, but they keep running through the facts, and horror washes through me.
We all sent Beck and the others messages and flowers, but it’s all over the news, and none of us can believe our eyes.
No wonder the tour is paused. They have more important things to deal with. Despite my own concern, I hope she is okay. Surviving something like that can’t be easy.
“It’s crazy.” Ryker sighs, leaning into my shoulder. “Who could do something like that?”
“Psychopaths,” I murmur as I kiss his head and focus on the news just as the doorbell rings.
“That will be pizza,” Strike says. “Foxy, get it for us. I’m comfy.”
“No,” I mutter, and Ryker looks up.
“Please, baby?” he asks sweetly.
“Fine.” I heave myself up, ignoring their ribbing at how easily I gave in to Ryker. Opening the front door, I focus on getting my cash from my pocket and handing it over. “Keep the tip—” My head comes up, and I freeze.
It isn’t a pizza delivery person.
No, it’s Theo, my ex.
RYKER
“Fox has been a while,” Dash mumbles. I glance at the hallway, realizing he’s right.
“I’ll go see.” Hopping from the sofa, I slide into the hall, grinning as I skid. Fox’s back is to me, and his arm is across the door, the other holding it tightly. He looks tense, so I hurry over, poking his side to get him to laugh.
“What’s taking so long?” I whine, popping up and seeing the guy on the doorstep. Definitely not delivery.
I sober up, running my eyes down him. He’s taller than I am and muscular. His black hair is partially shaved, and his face is square and handsome, with a black mustache above plump lips.
He’s very attractive and different from me.
I look between Fox and him, and it’s obvious what they are to each other. Nobody looks at someone like that unless there’s history—romantic history.
“Fox?” I cover his arm bracketing the doorframe. He snaps his head around, and I turn to the guy to see his eyes locked on my hand touching Fox. “Who’s this?”
Before Fox can introduce him, he sticks his hand out, a cocky smirk in place. “Name’s Theodore. I’m Fox’s first love.” The smile he aims my way is not nice, and he returns his gaze to Fox as if he’s dismissing me. “Not even going to let me in after I came all this way to see you?”
“Why are you here?” Fox finally speaks, his voice tight.
“We need to talk,” Theodore responds, that cocky smile in place. “I didn’t think you’d answer my calls or texts?—”
“You were right,” Fox snaps, sounding crueler than I’ve ever heard him. “Nor should you just show up in my life. I made that clear after you made your choice.”
“Dane.” I jerk at the use of Fox’s real name, and Fox’s nostrils flare. “Five minutes, please, for old times’ sake.”
Fox stares him down before stepping back, his jaw clenching. “Five minutes. Follow me.” He looks at me, and his expression softens. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
Nodding, I watch him go. Theo winks at me as he passes, following Fox through the hallway to the kitchen, then out back. He shuts the door after him, and I kick the front door shut, silently wandering after them. I linger in the kitchen to watch them through the window.