Chapter 3
ELLE
Twelve to eighteen inches across the Chicago metro area. O’Hare has already announced a ground stop effective immediately, with most airlines canceling flights through tomorrow morning. Interstate closures are expected by noon as this system intensifies.
My stomach drops as the implications crystallize. Stranded in Chicago. Missing Christmas with Melody.
“No.” The word escapes as a whisper, too soft for anyone to hear over the worried murmurs filling the space. “No, no, no.”
Phoenix glances down, something unfamiliar flickering in his eyes. “Your flight?”
“I’m supposed to leave in the morning.” My voice sounds distant to my own ears as panic builds, a high-pitched whine drowning out rational thought. “I can’t—I have to get home. I promised.”
His hand settles on my elbow, the contact electric even through layers of fabric. “Hey, breathe. We’ll figure something out.”
“There’s nothing to figure out.” My words tumble faster as the reality cements. “If planes aren’t flying, they aren’t flying. I’ll miss—” I catch myself before Melody’s name escapes. “Christmas preparations. Important ones.”
Phoenix pulls his phone out of his pocket, pressing it to his ear. “Rachel,” he murmurs, releasing my arm to answer. “Hey, what’s the word on our charter?”
His expression darkens as he listens, sharp angles of his face tightening with each passing second. “Seriously? Even for a private flight?” Another pause. “Safety first, I get it.”
He disconnects, running a hand through his hair with uncharacteristic agitation. “Charter’s grounded too. Too dangerous to attempt takeoff in these conditions.”
“So you’re stuck as well?”
“Looks that way.” Phoenix scans the increasingly agitated crowd forming around us.
My mind races through alternatives—trains, buses, rental cars—each option dismissed as quickly as it forms.
“I need to call my—” I stop, redirecting. “My friend. She’s expecting me home by Saturday.” I step away, fingers already dialing Jen’s number, heart pounding with the knowledge that I might break my promise to Melody.
Jen answers on the second ring. “Please tell me you’re calling with good news about hot rockstar reunion sex.”
“Jen,” I hiss, turning my back to Phoenix and lowering my voice. “There’s a massive blizzard hitting Chicago. All flights are grounded.”
“Oh no.” The playfulness vanishes from her tone. “Melody will be disappointed, but she’s doing great. We finished the glitter pinecone ornament she’s been making for you. You should see it—the kitchen looks like a craft store exploded.”
Despite my anxiety, warmth spreads through my chest at the image. “She’s okay?”
“She’s having a blast. This morning she announced she’s going to be a ‘Christmas scientist’ when she grows up because mixing glue with glitter is ‘chemical magic.’”
A small laugh escapes me. “That sounds like her.”
“We’ve got everything covered here. The question is, how are you getting home?”
“I don’t know.” The reality of my situation crashes back. “If planes aren’t flying, I don’t know what to do.”
I can feel his presence behind me, the familiar way he takes up space in a room along with the scent of pine.
“I’ll call you back,” I tell her, curiosity overriding immediate panic.
Phoenix disconnects his call, a triumphant gleam in his eyes that instantly triggers my suspicion.
“Problem solved,” he announces, tucking his phone into his pocket with a flourish. “We’ve got transportation.”
“What kind of transportation?” I ask cautiously.
“Tour bus. Not our usual luxury setup, but functional. It’ll be here in the morning.”
“Going where?”
“Nashville,” Phoenix says without hesitation. “I know you need to get home. The roads south are still open, and if we leave first thing, we can outrun the worst of the storm.”
“Don’t you need to get back to L.A. to sip pina colada’s in a hot tub for Christmas?” I ask with a little too much hostility.
“I’m not going to let you miss Christmas because of a weather system.
” His directness catches me off guard, the calculation in his eyes replaced with something more genuine.
“We can catch flights from Nashville to LA afterward.” He pauses.
“Besides, Nashville is my hometown too. Maybe it’s time for a visit.
Haven’t been back since...” He trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished, though we both know exactly when he left.
Alarm bells ring in my head, but the alternative—missing Christmas with Melody—silences them completely.
“So you’re offering me a ride?” I clarify, trying to sound professional despite the wild thumping of my heart.
“Unless you’d prefer to be stranded in a Chicago hotel for Christmas.
” His smile softens, a glimpse of the boy who once played songs on his guitar in my tiny apartment kitchen at 3 AM.
“Come on, Elle. It’s only an eight-hour drive.
How bad can it be? And we can do the interview on the bus.
You’ll have eight hours of my undivided attention. ”
The promise in those words sends a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the blizzard threatening outside.
Before I can respond, Rachel strides into the green room, spotting Phoenix and making her way toward us with purposeful steps.
“This is why I hate Chicago,” she says without preamble, eyes flickering to me with recognition. “Oh, the reporter from Rhythm. Elle, right?”
“Elle Winters,” I confirm, extending my hand. “We met briefly before the show.”
“Rachel Davis.” Her handshake is firm, her gaze assessing but not unkind. “CEO of Left Turn Records and occasional miracle worker for temperamental rock stars.”
“Not temperamental,” Phoenix protests. “I prefer passionate.” He raises his eyebrows at me.
Rachel rolls her eyes. “I’ve been on the phone trying to find alternatives.”
“I chartered a bus to Nashville,” Phoenix interjects smoothly.
Rachel’s eyebrows climb toward her hairline.
“Elle needs to get home for Christmas, and we can catch flights to LA from Nashville once we get there.”
“Let me get this straight. You—who once said, and I quote, ‘I’d rather crawl naked through broken glass than go back to Nashville—now suddenly want to drive straight into the lion’s den?”
Then her eyes slide over to me and she gets this knowing look on her face. “Oh, I see what this is about. Someone’s thinking from the wrong mic.” She looks pointedly at my crotch.
Phoenix narrows his eyes at her. “It’s not about me. Elle and I”—he pauses—“know each other. She needs to get home for Christmas, and this is the only way that’s going to happen.”
The simple honesty in his statement surprises me as much as Rachel, who studies him for a long moment before turning to me. “You live in Nashville?”
“Just outside the city,” I answer carefully.
“And you understand this isn’t the luxury tour bus, right? It’s the backup—the one with the temperamental heating and those tiny bunks that barely fit Casey?”
Phoenix’s expression doesn’t waver. “It has wheels and goes south. That’s all that matters.”
“Where do you sit on the bus?” I ask Rachel, suddenly realizing the logistical complications of traveling with a rock band.
Rachel laughs, a genuine sound that brightens her sharp features. “I’ll take my chances at O’Hare. Being trapped on a bus with this ragtag crew is not my idea of Christmas cheer.”
She must notice my horrified expression and says, “Oh, they’re not that bad. A bunch of cinnamon roll rockstars you can sink your teeth into. That is if you’re into that kind of thing.” She winks.
“Oh, uh, I’m not,” I confirm.
She ignores me and turns to Phoenix. “Mike can drive. I’ll make sure he’s there first thing in the morning. Don’t be late.”
Liam strides into the room, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He’s shorter than the other band members, but what he lacks in height he makes up for with a coiled energy that keeps the rhythm of our band.
“Up for a road trip?” Phoenix asks him.
Liam looks confused.
“Surely you’ve heard flights are cancelled. We’re taking the bus to Nashville to get a flight back to LA from there,” Phoenix confirms.
“A bus? There’s my cue to try my luck at the airport,” he announces, adjusting his Arizona Cardinals baseball cap. “My flight’s officially canceled, but they might be able to get me on a later flight.”
I’m getting a bad feeling about this bus.
“Seriously?” Phoenix raises an eyebrow. “You’re willing to sit at O’Hare all day on the slim chance something might fly?”
“It’s Christmas with my family, man.” Liam shrugs, determination etched across his features. “I gotta try.”
“Your call,” Phoenix says, extending a hand which Liam clasps firmly. “Text when you know something.”
“Will do.” Liam turns to me with a polite nod. “Nice to meet you, Elle. Sorry it’s so brief.”
“Good luck,” I offer, touched by his dedication to making it home for the holidays.
“Got my lucky hat.” He taps the brim of his cap with a grin. With a final wave, he heads for the exit, purpose in every step.
Rachel pauses at the door. “Try not to impregnate each other before Nashville.”
Phoenix turns to me, mouth curving. “If I were trying, trust me—you’d know.”
I swallow hard.
Then his expression softens, the joke fading. “I meant what I said. I’m not letting you miss Christmas.”
The unexpected consideration disarms me more than his flirtation. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Wait until you see the accommodation.” His smile returns, but without the calculated edge from earlier. “It’s functional at best.”
“As long as it gets me home, I don’t care if it’s pulled by reindeer.”
“Speaking of which,” Phoenix glances toward the hall where Casey and Theo appear, holding their gear. “Here comes the rest of Santa’s helpers.”
“Change of plans,” Phoenix announces as they approach. “We’re taking a bus to Nashville instead of the charter to LA. Elle needs to get home for Christmas, and we can catch flights from there afterward.”
Casey’s eyebrows shoot up. “Nashville? Are you serious?”
“Deadly,” Phoenix confirms. “The roads south should still be open by morning, and the bus is available.”
Casey and Theo exchange glances, a silent conversation passing between them.
“We’re a package deal, remember?” Phoenix adds. “One band, one plan.”
“Not exactly how I planned to spend Christmas break,” Casey sighs, adjusting his beanie, “but beats being stranded in Chicago.” His gaze shifts to me, a knowing smile playing at his lips. “Besides, who am I to stand in the way of a Christmas reunion?”
“It’s not—we’re not—” I stammer, my fingers twisting around the strap of my bag.
“Relax,” Casey grins. “I’m just saying it’s nice to help someone get home for the holidays. Very seasonal spirit vibes and all.”
“Don’t get too excited. It’s the backup bus.”
Casey groans. “The one where I woke up with my legs dangling into the aisle because the bunks are sized for hobbits? Fantastic.”
“Sounds… interesting.” I shift my weight, shouldering my bag.
“When do we leave?” I ask, eager to get on the road and home to my little girl.
“In the morning, first thing,” Phoenix answers. “Don’t worry Elle, we’ll get you home. Promise.”
A promise from Phoenix shouldn’t carry any weight, not after five years of silence. Yet I find myself nodding, clinging to his words like a lifeline.
Stuck on a bus with the man who broke my heart and doesn’t know I’m hiding a secret baby from him... this’ll be great, just great.
The universe, it seems, has a twisted sense of humor.
And an even more twisted sense of timing.