CHAPTER twenty
An Unraveling Thread
Somewhere between Oklahoma City and Dallas
Oklahoma City looms behind us in the distance, its golden glow bouncing off the pavement, stretching endlessly beyond the horizon.
The hum of the bus is steady, the slight sway of movement hypnotic, but my mind is anything but calm.
I have spent the last eight hours trapped in my own head, dissecting my conversation with Elias from the night before, replaying every syllable, every glance, every breath.
The tension has been thick between us ever since.
He hasn’t so much as glanced in my direction, hasn’t spoken a single word to me outside of the necessities.
It is gnawing at me, a slow, relentless ache that I can’t shake.
I need to fix this. I need to say something, anything, to smooth over whatever has shattered between us.
Deciding I can’t let this sit any longer, I stand from the booth in the back, stretching as naturally as I can before voicing my excuse. “Ugh, I think I’m getting carsick. I’m gonna sit up front for a bit and get some air.”
Cody barely looks up from his phone, only offering a nod in acknowledgment. Grady is half-asleep, slouched against the wall, and Jasper is flipping through a manga, seemingly unfazed. None of them questions it. Good.
I push past the partition. Elias sits with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift, his expression flat, his posture rigid.
He doesn’t turn. Doesn’t acknowledge me.
I swallow past the lump in my throat and slide into the passenger seat beside him. My heart thrums against my ribs, nerves tangling in my stomach like a thousand knots.
“Hey,” I say gently.
He still doesn’t look at me, doesn’t shift in his seat. His fingers only tighten slightly on the steering wheel before he finally responds.
“Hi.” The word is clipped, cold, carrying no warmth, no inflection, just a simple syllable meant to acknowledge and dismiss me all at once.
I exhale slowly, forcing myself to stay steady.
“Look, I’m sorry if I upset you last night. That wasn’t my intention at all. I was just teasing.”
Silence.
His jaw twitches, muscles ticking beneath his skin, but he says nothing. The air between us stretches into something unbearable.
I wet my lips, pressing forward despite the warning signs flashing in his body language.
“I didn’t mean to imply anything about your music. And if I’m being completely honest, my head is just all over the place after what happened between us.”
There. I said it. I have put it out into the open, let the words settle between us, waiting, hoping, praying that he will give me something to work with.
His grip on the wheel tightens for a fraction of a second before his voice cuts through the space between us, sharper than I expected.
“It was a mistake.”
The air in my lungs turns solid, impossible to swallow. The words settle over me like lead, pressing into my ribs, sinking into my skin like poison.
A mistake.
That kiss—that moment—it had meant something to me. It had been a spark, an unspoken shift, a piece of something I couldn’t quite name. But to him?
Nothing. Just a lapse in judgment. A regret.
I stare at him, hoping, desperately searching, for some sign that he doesn’t mean it. That it is just another wall he is putting up, another shield of indifference. But he doesn’t look at me. His face remains impassive, his eyes locked on the road ahead, like I’m not even there.
I swallow against the lump forming in my throat, my skin burning with humiliation.
How could I have been so stupid?
“Got it,” I say, my voice void of emotion.
I turn away quickly, blinking against the sting behind my eyes, forcing myself to hold it together until I am out of sight.
I barely register stepping through the partition, barely notice the guys still scattered around the bus, still lost in their own worlds.
My feet carry me to the back room, and as soon as the door clicks shut behind me, the dam breaks.
I collapse onto the edge of the bed, my face falling into my hands, my shoulders trembling as silent tears slip past my defenses.
It was a mistake.
The words play on repeat in my head, looping over and over like a haunting melody, a song I can’t turn off.
I had let myself believe, let myself hope, that maybe Elias saw me differently than I originally thought.
That maybe there is something lingering beneath the surface of all his brooding silence.
That maybe, just maybe, I’m not imagining the way he looks at me.
The way he seemed to find excuses to touch me.
But I had been wrong. So fucking wrong.
I wipe at my face furiously, inhaling deep, trying to ignore the twisting ache in my chest. I will not let this ruin my time.
I have spent the past few weeks having the time of my life, and I won’t let one emotionally unavailable, brooding asshole take that from me.
If he wants to act like nothing happened, fine. If he wants to pretend I don’t exist, fine.
I square my shoulders, inhaling one last shaky breath, and wipe away the last of my tears.
I will go out there, laugh with the guys, sell merch, take photos, and move the fuck on.
If Elias wants distance, I’d give it to him. Because after today?
I’m not wasting another second thinking about him.
Dallas, Texas
The bus rumbles beneath us, carrying the weight of the miles and the unspoken tension that has settled between Elias and me like a heavy fog.
Days have passed without more than a handful of words exchanged.
We have become masters at avoidance, slipping through the cracks of each other’s presence with silent precision.
And yet, something feels different.
The shows have been electric, but I have noticed a shift in Elias’s performances.
His presence on stage is still commanding, but there is something else lingering beneath it now—something darker, something restrained.
If I didn’t know better, I would say he is holding something back, but I can’t allow myself to think it has anything to do with me.
Today is Cody’s birthday, and with a rare stretch of days off, we are spending it in Downtown Dallas before the show tomorrow. True to his nature, he has booked us all a brewery tour—a chaotic excursion that means Elias, despite his usual reluctance, is forced to come along.
The trolley waiting for us is painted a garish shade of green, and as soon as we approach, Cody quite literally hops aboard like a child who has been promised candy.
The rest of us climb on more casually, each staking out our own space, but Elias and I instinctively gravitate to opposite ends of the bench seating, a silent, mutual understanding keeping us apart.
Our eyes meet for a brief second, just a flicker of hesitation, of something unspoken, and then, just as quickly, we both look away.
The tour is packed with other groups, and as I settle into my seat, I notice a guy across from me.
He is strikingly handsome, with short brown hair tousled just enough to look intentional, ocean-blue eyes that hold an easy warmth, and a smile so perfect it could melt steel.
His stubble adds a rugged charm, and when his gaze lands on me, his lips curl into an amused grin.
I return the smile, biting back a laugh at how natural it is, how easy it feels to enjoy the attention.
We spend the next hour laughing and drinking, the beer loosening our words, the hum of conversation flowing as freely as the drinks.
Cody, predictably, gets rowdier the more intoxicated he becomes, dancing in the aisle while the rest of us enjoy the ridiculous spectacle.
Elias remains quiet, chatting idly with Jasper, seemingly uninterested in the chaos around him or in me.
“Rumours is one of the best albums of all time,” the cute guy leans over, his voice smooth and confident.
I glance down at my vintage Fleetwood Mac shirt, the faded design worn from years of love.
“You’re not wrong.” I tilt my head, smirking.
“Bryan,” he introduces himself, extending a hand, his grin playful.
“Ramona.”
“That’s a beautiful name. For a beautiful woman.”
I roll my eyes at the textbook flirtation, but I play along, shifting to the seat beside him. He drapes his arm casually over the back of the bench as we fall into easy conversation, the alcohol making everything a little warmer, a little more intoxicating.
At the next brewery stop, we are still chatting, laughing, the buzz of beer and attention making me feel light. Bryan is charming, polite, and genuinely enjoyable company. I find myself leaning in without thinking, my fingers brushing his arm as he tells a joke.
Then, I feel it. A presence. A burning gaze searing into me from across the patio.
I flick my eyes to the side and find Elias staring. His expression is hard as stone, his jaw tense.
A flicker of something—something that looks an awful lot like jealousy—flashes through his amber eyes before he turns away.
I swallow, my stomach twisting at the sight, but then force myself to focus back on Bryan. He has no right to be jealous. He has made it perfectly clear where we stand, perfectly clear that what happened between us was a mistake.
So why did my heart race at the thought that maybe, just maybe, he is jealous?
Bryan slides his arm around my waist in a playful gesture, his hand warm against my skin. I let it happen. Let him see. Let him watch.
After the tour, we stand outside the trolley, the neon buzz of nightlife flickering in the distance. Bryan turns toward me, his dazzling smile making my stomach flutter.
“What does a guy have to do to get your number?”
I smirk, tilting my head.
“How about you come to the band’s show tomorrow, and I’ll consider it?”
He leans in slightly, his voice low, teasing.
“Do I get to see you there?”
“I’ll be at the merch table.”
“I guess I’ll see you then, Ramona.”