Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Ross
There’s a very good chance I took my shot too early. Wynter seems torn between wanting to jump my bones again and running for the hills.
“It’s okay if you’re not where I am in life,” I add when she doesn’t respond for a while. “You’re almost a decade younger than I am, so I get it.”
“It’s not that,” she says softly. “I just haven’t had good experiences with musicians. In my experience, they cheat or die.”
“Losing Carter was rough,” I acknowledge.
“But addiction is a disease and unfortunately, he couldn’t beat it.
I’m not an addict—you have my word on that.
As far as cheating goes, I guess you’ll just have to make a leap of faith.
I can tell you that’s not my style, but whether or not you trust me is out of my control. ”
“So, you’re saying you want to get into an exclusive relationship with me?” She sounds incredulous.
I chuckle. “Well, it’s just you and me in here, babe. So, who else would I be talking about?”
“And if something goes wrong?”
“It’s hard to make promises this early, but something that feels this good isn’t a fluke. I firmly believe that. I knew I was going to marry Clara the first time I laid eyes on her.”
“That’s never happened to me,” she whispers. “Until now. I don’t mean about getting married, just a connection this intense.”
“Well, it’s only happened to me twice and I’m a decade older than you.”
She’s quiet for so long that I almost wonder if she’s fallen asleep. Then she burrows deeper into my shoulder, pressing soft kisses on my collarbone. “I could call in sick,” she says.
“We’re gonna spend quite a few hours on the bus, and then we’ll have to move right into sound check and the show,” I say. “I want to be honest about how much quality time we’ll have together. I’m just not ready for you to leave.”
“We can talk the whole way to Vegas, can’t we?”
“We can.” I run my fingers through her soft, damp hair.
“I know you think of me as Ross Rockit, but that’s not who I am anymore.
I’m just Ross Sanderson, who happens to be a tour manager for Onyx Knight.
They pay me well and I don’t have a lot of expenses, because I use my apartment in Studio City as an expensive storage unit and a place to lay my head when we’re not on tour.
“I walked away from the spotlight after the accident, and I’ve worked very hard to rebuild my life.
Performing tonight felt really good—I won’t lie about that—but there’s no universe where I go back to Ross or the Rock-its, because the Rock-its are all gone.
I just want to be sure that you have realistic expectations. ”
She lifts her head and gazes at me somberly. “Ross, I don’t want you to be anyone other than who you are. What you do professionally doesn’t make a difference to me, but I think Ross Rockit is part of you, and whether you want to admit it or not, you can’t pretend he never existed.”
“I would never pretend he didn’t exist,” I say carefully, “Because that would be disrespectful to my boys. I’m just more realistic now.”
“Would you tell me about them?” she asks quietly. “The guys in your old band?”
“Not tonight,” I say gently. “I’m exhausted, and it’s been a long day. But yes, I’ll tell you about the guys.”
I almost hold my breath waiting for her to ask about Clara. But the silence stretches out and eventually I realize she’s fast asleep.
Hopefully I’ll sleep too.
Not only did I sleep, I slept hard. So much so that I apparently turned off my alarm when it went off and went right back to sleep. So, I’m startled awake by a pounding on the door.
“Wynter! Are you in there? Is Ross with you?”
Wynter sits up and rubs her eyes. “Oh shit! What time is it?”
“Fuck.” I jump up and yank on my boxers. Wynter is naked, but she grabs a robe from the bathroom before hurrying to the door. She opens it, and I hear Harley start to laugh.
“You know it’s five after nine, right?” she asks.
“I need five minutes,” Wynter says. “Just five.”
I can still hear Harley’s laughter as Wynter closes the door in her face. Then she practically sprints across the room to pull clothes out of her suitcase.
“I just need to pee, rinse my face, and brush my teeth,” she says as she rushes into the bathroom. “It won’t take me long.”
“Hey.” I follow her into the bathroom and reach for her hand. “Take a breath. It’s fine. Technically, when it comes to logistics and such, I’m the boss. I always build in a thirty-minute buffer because, inevitably, somebody oversleeps.”
“I just don’t want you to get into trouble,” she says worriedly.
“Like I said, I run logistics. Everything is fine.” I tug her against me. “By the way, good morning.”
She smiles up at me, and for the first time I notice a light smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. God, she’s pretty.
“Good morning,” she whispers, as I press my lips against hers.
“I’ll go back to my room and get my stuff,” I tell her. “Then I’ll come knock on your door and we can walk down together.”
She gives me a wry smile. “They’re gonna blame me.”
I wave a hand. “Nah, not the first time I’ve overslept.”
Actually, it is.
But I won’t tell her that.
I figure we’re going to take some ribbing today regardless, so I don’t want her to feel bad.
I’m a little surprised about how well I slept. Even on the nights I don’t have nightmares, I tend to be restless. I toss and turn until I can’t stand it anymore and then drag myself to the nearest gym if there’s one available. How long has it been since I slept soundly? I honestly can’t remember.
Stuffing my feet into my Chucks, I pause and glance back at Wynter, who’s brushing her teeth.
I’m not completely sure what changed over the course of yesterday.
Maybe it was that moment on stage last night where I felt like I finally had a chance to say goodbye.
I’m not na?ve enough to believe that meeting someone I really like is going to cure the trauma I’ve lived with for nineteen years, but it sure as hell doesn’t hurt.
I take a few minutes to freshen up and then throw my toiletries into my suitcase.
I don’t ever fully unpack, so I’m almost always ready to go.
Today that’s a good thing. I quickly look around the room to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything and push my suitcase into the hall just as Wynter is coming out of her room.
“I don’t suppose we have time to grab a cup of coffee,” she asks sheepishly.
“Absolutely, we do,” I reply firmly. “You think I can function without coffee?”
She grins. “A man after my own heart.”
“Tell you what,” I tell her, digging a twenty out of my wallet. “You go down and get us some coffee—I take mine black—and I’ll get our bags onto the bus.”
She plucks the twenty from my fingers and grins. “Deal.”
We part ways when we get down to the lobby, and I wheel our suitcases out to the waiting bus.
“About time.” Tommy taps his watch impatiently, though I see a spark of amusement in his eyes.
“Where’s Wynter?” Harley asks from behind him.
“Getting us coffee,” I reply. “You know I can’t function without it.”
“She can’t, either,” Harley stage whispers to Tommy. “They’re like two peas in a pod.”
The bus driver takes our bags and I look back toward the lobby, trying to decide whether I should go looking for Wynter or just wait for her to join us.
Oh, what the hell. In for a penny, in for a pound.
People are going to see us together regardless, so I jog back into the hotel and spot her coming toward me.
She looks gorgeous today, in a pair of low-slung jeans and a tee shirt with her hair up in a ponytail.
“Miss me?” she asks, arching a brow.
“As a matter of fact, I did.” I reach for the cup of coffee she proffers. “You got a problem with that?”
She laughs. “Not even a little.”
I grab her hand, and we walk back toward the bus.