Skylar
Nerves jumble in my stomach as I head down the empty hallway.
Get a damn grip, Sky.
Steeling myself, I knock on the door of his hotel room.
My newfound composure fizzles the moment he opens it.
If Memphis is surprised to see me standing here, I can’t tell.
“What?”
Forcing myself to keep my gaze trained on his impassive face instead of the sheen of sweat covering his abs and the black basketball shorts resting suggestively low on his hips, I utter, “Can I come in?”
His upper lip curls in contempt. “No.”
Before I can blink, he slams the door in my face.
I get that we’re no longer friends, but he’s acting like I’m the devil summoning him to the depths of hell.
He’s hurting.
Stepping forward, I press my forehead to the wooden panel. “Please, Memphis.”
Let me do this for you.
The door opens ever so slightly. “What the fuck do you want?”
Thinking quick, I slip the tickets I printed out ten minutes ago through the tiny gap.
“I got you two first-class seats. This way no one will be next to you.”
It’s a far cry from the private plane he’s accustomed to, but it’s the best I could do with the little money left in my savings account.
Shoving my hand inside my purse, I pull out a ball cap and sunglasses. “It’s not a foolproof disguise, but it should do the trick.”
I’m attempting to shove them through the crevice when the door swings open.
Speechless, Memphis stares at the ticket…then at me. “I…you…”
“Your dad would want you there,” I whisper past the lump in my throat.
“Where the fuck is Memphis?” Chandler gripes the next day during sound check.
Putting on my best poker face, I study my nails.
Storm presses a button on his cell before shoving it into his pocket. “He’s not answering his phone.”
Shrugging, Phoenix looks at Chandler. “Front desk said he’s not in his room.”
Josh rolls his eyes. “Taking this shit seriously, my ass.”
Is he freaking serious right now?
“Archie died.”
Several heads turn to look at me.
Whatever. I refuse to stand here and pretend like preventing Memphis from leaving is all fine and good when it’s downright heartless.
Both Vic and Chandler can kick rocks.
“It’s bad enough you’re forcing him to miss the funeral. You can’t expect him to attend sound check, too. He deserves to have some time to himself so he can grieve.”
Storm and Phoenix exchange sympathetic nods. “She’s right.”
The bulging vein in Chandler’s forehead disappears and he diverts his attention to the man at the sound board. “Run it without Memphis.”
The man gives him a puzzled look. “Okay, but—”
“But nothing,” Chandler snaps before marching off stage. “He’ll be here tonight.”
No…he won’t.
Because he’s exactly where he needs to be.
Saying goodbye to his dad.
And one of the best people I’ve ever known.
Whatever composure I was hanging onto crumbles and the tears I’ve been suppressing the past few days spill over.
I’m never going to hear Archie’s boisterous laughter. Or one of his terrible jokes. He’ll never open the front door and give me that big, warm smile that lets me know I’m always welcome in his home. We’re never going to fight over the last bite of Valerie’s cobbler.
I was so focused on making sure Memphis could be there to grieve and get some closure, it didn’t occur to me that I’d need it, too.
I look over at Josh.
I don’t know how he can be so happy when the man who took him in and loved him like a son is gone.
“Show us your tits,” I hear my boyfriend chant through the paper-thin walls of Phoenix’s hotel suite.
Normally, I would march in there and drag him out, but my heart is too overcome with a different kind of pain.
Zipping up my small duffel bag, I sling it over my shoulder and open the door of my hotel room.
My plan is to text Josh in an hour and tell him I have a bad case of food poisoning. That will explain my absence at the show.
The groupies and substances will keep him preoccupied the rest of the night.
Unless of course he decides to put his girlfriend first for once and checks on me.
If so, I’ll have to put my big-girl panties on and tell him the truth.
Unfortunately, doing so all but guarantees we’ll have a never-ending fight about it.
Just thinking about our impending argument is enough to provoke a tidal wave of exhaustion, but I can’t keep walking on eggshells.
I’ve barely taken two steps out of my room when Chandler—who’s pacing the hallway—spots me.
Surprise illuminates his face, but it quickly changes to suspicion when he eyes my bag. “The show starts in two hours. Where are you going?”
Ugh. This is the last thing I need.
I know he has a tiny soft spot for me, but I also know Chandler doesn’t have a sympathetic bone in his body and business always comes first.
Screw this. Memphis will never admit it, but I know he needs me right now.
Plus, Archie would want me to be there for his son.
Because he can’t.
I straighten my spine. “There’s somewhere else I need to be.”
I’m preparing for him to throw a hissy fit, but to my shock, his expression softens. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah…” The crack in my voice betrays me. “No.”
Archie’s gone.
Memphis is devastated.
And I can’t fix it.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a small package of tissues and hands it to me. “Be back by tomorrow afternoon.”
I’ll be damned. It appears Chandler does have a heart.
He levels me with a stern look. “Both of you.”
Rising up on my tiptoes, I kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”