Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
SEATTLE, WASHINGTON
Josie and I aren’t able to arrange our dinner date for a few weeks.
With rapid concerts through Idaho, Oregon, and Washington, we don’t get a second to breathe until we get to the end of the American Leg of our tour (the first part at least).
Now that our Seattle shows are over, the buses need repairing before we cross the border into Canada.
I never thought I’d miss the sterilized smell of an impersonal hotel room. Halfway through, the guys and I started sleeping together on the big bed in the back of our bus, none of us being able to handle the small bunks much longer.
Now, I get my own queen-size bed and a lazy day to do whatever I want. And the first thing on the agenda is cashing in on a much overdue date with a pretty, tattooed omega.
Luckily, before we left Salt Lake City, she let Malaki give the rest of us her number.
Being able to flirt with her even in a small capacity like texting has been amazing for my well-being, my alpha calming more with every interaction.
It’s also cool to see her walls come down, each text feeling like a glimpse into how her brain works. I love every single moment of it.
I finally get to the point of cooking where I can let the beef rest on the rack. I wasn’t joking when I said I could make one; it just takes a lot of time and preparation, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to show Josie how committed I am to giving her the very best.
I’ve been at it all day, but it wasn’t nearly as long as it could have been because my pack mates helped as much as they could. Mainly because Cyrus was worried about me being in a smoky kitchen for too long, and the others wanted to eat bits and pieces of the ingredients as they helped prep them.
Their help didn’t come without a healthy dose of teasing. Malaki jeered about how I haven’t made beef Wellington since before we got signed, and Jamie jokingly grumbled that we don’t have pretty enough faces for it.
God, I love them so much.
Before they left to give Josie and me some privacy on our little date, they all threatened me with harm if there wasn’t any left for them when they got back.
The second after I click the timer into place, the hotel door sounds with a knock, and my stomach twists with nerves. When I open the door, however, that anxiousness immediately turns to glee when I see Josie standing on the other side.
She is comfortable in a black T-shirt and long skirt, the material billowy, the pattern the perfect mix of punk and hippie. She beams at me, and I beam back.
“Welcome to our humble abode, little vicious,” I say as I let her into the suite. She looks around, her eyes taking in how different our room is from theirs, before I catch the sight of her sniffing the air.
“Are you smelling the masterpiece I cooked up, or are you trying to get a hint of my scent?”
She flushes, but smiles. “Why can’t it be both?”
“That’s the best answer,” I say honestly, guiding her to the living room. “I just got done with our meal, so it needs some time to rest before we can dig in.”
“Just now?” she asks. “How long have you been cooking?”
“All day, pretty much.”
She looks around, her face contorting with soft surprise. “You cooked all day for me?”
“Well, it’s only a little after noon, so don’t give me too much credit.”
She huffs. “I will give you all the credit I want, Lennon. That’s amazing. You didn’t have to do that.”
I wave her off. “I would do it again and more. Now, let’s sit. I have some stuff that I promised to tell you. No more mystery,” I inform her, sitting on the couch and patting the spot beside me. “I’m ready to tell you my big, dark secret now.”
She must hear the playfulness in my tone because she giggles. “I don’t think I’d ever describe you as dark or mysterious. Cyrus, maybe, or Remi, but not you.”
“What a shot to my ego,” I joke. “Seriously though, I like being known as the jolly one. The whimsical one, if you will.”
“Whimsical is the right word exactly.”
Josie sits beside me, a lot closer than I expected. My alpha preens in my chest, and I hope the pride can be detected in my scent. The two alcoholic aromas mingle together, leaving me heady and floaty and so freaking jubilant.
“Okay then,” Josie says, patting her knees. “What’s this dark secret?”
The words halt in my throat for a moment.
I trust Josie with this secret, and I want her to know all of me, but it’s still hard for me to admit this sometimes.
Only my pack and my parents know, so sometimes—if I let it—I can pretend it doesn’t exist. We can keep going on with our day-to-day lives and pretend there isn’t a storm cloud over my head.
Still, Josie is now a part of my life. She is my scent match, and that means something to me. So I heave a deep breath and rip the Band-aid off.
“I have lupus.”
Her eyes soften. “I figured it had something to do with your health. Seeing you not be able to catch your breath after that concert… I should have known.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. I didn’t tell you, and we try to keep it discreet around everyone since nobody knows. But I’ve seen all sorts of musicians become winded from performing without a condition hindering them. There’s no way you could have known.”
She flattens her lips, still solemn. “It’s an autoimmune disease, right?”
I nod.
“Could you explain to me exactly how it affects you? I don’t think I know the full extent of it off the top of my head.”
“Well, my energy levels are affected the most, and my lungs. When we were doing our first mini tour, I was really fatigued, and breathing became very difficult. It was so unlike me. Normally I could push through anything, but I wasn’t able to anymore.
We all thought the tour was getting to me, but then I went to the doctor and got diagnosed, and I realized that it’s just a part of who I am now. ”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“It’s chronic, so I’ll have it for the rest of my life.
I have to check my blood pressure every day, rest more often, and stay away from smoke areas for long periods of time.
I don’t drink anymore, either. I get a checkup every couple of months to make sure my kidneys and lungs are still functioning. ”
“Does anything help with the fatigue, at least?”
“I have meds to help reduce inflammation and prevent severe symptoms. I have an inhaler, too, because sometimes stress can stir up an asthmatic response, but I don’t use it very often.
I often forget to pick it up, so Cyrus always goes to get it and lectures me about forgetting it when he gets home. ”
Her face flashes with something fearful. “Do you have it with you now?”
I nod. “Yes, I do. Cyrus always makes sure we have a few with us just in case.”
I can practically see the question circling in her head, hesitant, shy. My hand goes over hers. “You can ask me anything you want about it, Josie. It’s okay.”
She nods solemnly, still thinking over her words before she speaks. “I’m sometimes—” She pauses, biting her lip. “Sometimes I have a hard time reading the room. Will I know when you need something? What if you start having an asthma attack and I don’t jump into action in time?”
Despite the fact she is currently spiraling from what-ifs, my heart swells at her line of thinking. She wants to be adequate for me. She wants to be able to give me what I need, but is afraid.
I lean closer to her, inhaling her sharpened scent. “The fact that you’re even thinking about what I need at all is worlds better than I anticipated. My illness is something I have to deal with. I don’t want to burden you with it.”
“But… it’s not a burden,” she protests. “You’re my scent match, Lennon. I know it’s not a walk in the park for you, but this is something we can bear together.”
My hands move to hers on instinct, needing to touch her, needing that connection. I’m speechless, though. There’s nothing I can respond with that won’t make me crack and show the emotions that I’m feeling beneath the surface.
There’s a tiny space in my chest that closes up, fulfilled and happy and appeased after so long in this pit of despair.
I am a positive person, but sometimes my patience runs thin, and rage rears an ugly head.
Sometimes, I feel angry that the universe cursed me with this disease, played games with my ability to do my job.
But then again, the universe also gave me her, so I can’t find it in me to not be a little bit grateful for the mystery that is fate.
“I am not worthy of you, little vicious.”
“You are.” Her finger moves in circles over my thumb, soothing me. My chest rumbles the smallest amount, the beginnings of a purr showing itself. Josie meets my eyes. “So, your team doesn’t know?”
“No. I don’t know how they would take it. I’m afraid they’ll suggest the band gets a new drummer. I’m always hidden, and I don’t get photographed much. I’m nervous my lack of popularity would make them send me packing.”
“They can’t do that,” Josie argues, angry on my behalf.
“Unfortunately, they could. We signed a dumb contract.” I shake my head. “We were young and thoughtless. I’m surprised they even let Malaki and Jamie be open about their relationship.”
She’s quiet for a moment, pondering. “Why do you—” she starts, but then stops abruptly.
“It’s okay,” I tell her, my finger moving over her cheek and down to her chin. “You can ask me anything, remember?”
She nods, but still looks sheepish. “Why do you do this with your condition? Touring, being in a band, it takes a lot of energy. I don’t understand how you go out there every night and don’t fall apart.”
It’s true. This job is hard for anyone, let alone the immunocompromised.
Our schedules are busy and fast, and there’s barely enough time in the day to get everything done, but I love it more than anything else in the world.
The rush, the excitement, being with my pack.
I couldn’t see myself doing anything else.