CHAPTER thirty
Regret is A Ghost Inside My Veins
San Diego, California
Elias stands close behind me, the warmth of his body radiating against my back as I click through the iPad, prepping merch for the crowd already forming outside.
His arms cage loosely around me, his breath grazing my cheek as he leans in to peek over my shoulder.
He says something teasing, and I jab an elbow into his ribs, earning a dramatic grunt and a retaliatory tickle to my side that makes me squeal.
I spin to face him, our bodies colliding in the narrow space. The connection between us is effortless, buzzing beneath my skin. His lips brush mine in a kiss so light it almost doesn’t land, but it sends a flutter through my chest anyway.
He pulls back just enough to really look at me, his eyes tracing every inch of my face. There’s an adoration in the way his gaze lingers. His fingertip drifts lightly across the bridge of my nose, then down the curve of my cheek, sending little sparks over my skin.
“Your freckles,” he murmurs, his voice softened with awe.
My breath stutters, and the sudden weight of his attention makes me shift uncomfortably. I’ve never liked them—those scattered flecks dotting my skin like imperfections I can’t hide. My shoulders lift in a small shrug. “I hate them.”
“Why?” His brow furrows, but his eyes never leave mine.
“I don’t know… I’ve just always been insecure about them.”
He shakes his head slowly, like the very idea is absurd. His thumb ghosts over my cheekbone, gentler than a whisper.
“You shouldn’t be,” he says, conviction threading through every word. “They’re beautiful.”
Heat blooms in my cheeks, my stomach swoops, and a delicious tingling spreads across my skin under his touch. I instinctively duck my head, but before I can hide, his finger hooks beneath my chin. He tilts me back up toward him, steady and sure, refusing to let me look away.
Then, with a softness that steals my breath, he leans in and presses a kiss to the tip of my nose.
Things between us are so easy. Natural. Like we’re the only two people in the room.
Until we’re not.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” Traeger’s voice slithers in behind us like an oil slick.
I stiffen, and Elias subtly shifts in front of me, his posture sharpening as we both turn to face him.
“How can we help you, Traeger?” I ask, forcing calm into my tone.
He flashes a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“When are you gonna let me take you for a spin, Ramona? I bet I could make you forget about this one real quick.” He flicks his gaze to Elias like he’s nothing, like he’s disposable.
I feel Elias tense. His jaw ticks once.
“Don’t talk to her like that.”
Traeger steps forward, his smirk curdling.
“Or what? Don’t forget we’re doing you a favor, letting your band ride our coattails.”
I open my mouth before I can stop myself, voice sharp.
“Seems like you should be thanking them, considering they’re the ones packing out half your shows.”
He barks a short laugh.
“You fucking wish.”
Then he leans in close to Elias, voice dropping to a venomous whisper.
“I bet they just show up to see if you’re gonna lose your shit again. Junkie piece of sh—”
I don’t even think. My fist flies before the words finish, crashing into Traeger’s smug mouth. The impact sends his head snapping to the side. Silence shatters around us.
Traeger slowly turns back, blood blooming at the corner of his lips, a sick grin spreading across his face as he drags his thumb across the split.
“How’d you know I like it rough?” he snarls. “Tell you what, Ramona, come to my bus later, and I’ll punish you properly.”
He grabs my wrist, and that’s all it takes.
Elias launches, fist cutting the air with a single, savage punch that sends Traeger sprawling onto the concrete. He scrambles, dazed and clutching his bleeding nose, and I throw myself into Elias, grabbing his arms before he can finish what he started.
“Stop, Elias! He’s not worth it!”
He takes a shaky breath and lifts his hands in surrender, backing off just enough to show me he’s regained control. But the fire in his eyes hasn’t dimmed—it’s only shifted.
He turns back toward Traeger, who’s still crumpled on the floor, one hand pressed to his bleeding nose, the other bracing against the ground. Elias steps forward, looming over him, his shadow swallowing the space between them.
His voice drops, low and lethal.
“If you ever lay a hand on her again, I will bury you. Do you understand me?”
Traeger doesn’t answer right away. His eyes flicker with panic, with something close to disbelief that Elias is no longer the man he thought he could push around. Then, defiant even through bloodied lips, he spits to the side and shouts:
“You’re done! Get the fuck off my tour!”
But we’re already gone.
Elias drags me out of the venue, his hand locked around mine. As soon as the cool night air hits us, he halts, spins me to face him, and captures my face in both hands.
“Are you okay?” he asks, eyes searching my face with concern.
I place my hands over his and reply, “I’m good, are you?”
He responds by crashing his lips into mine, all heat and fury and gratitude, his kiss unraveling the adrenaline still coursing through me.
When he finally pulls away, his eyes burn into mine, amber and molten, brimming with something that looks like pride.
“That,” he breathes, voice thick with awe, a smirk on his lips, “was the single hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
“It’s a good thing someone taught me how to throw a decent punch,” I say with a matching smirk.
Both of us are breathless, chests heaving, eyes still locked in that electric aftermath when the venue doors slam open behind us. Vernon storms out with the rest of the band close behind, their expressions a mix of confusion and alarm.
“What the hell just happened?” Jasper demands. “Traeger said you hit him. He says we’re off the tour.”
Vernon’s voice cuts through next, sharp and accusing.
“What did you do, Elias?” His arms cross, disappointment already taking root in his tone.
I see it—the subtle crack in Elias’s expression, the way his eyes flicker with hurt at the assumption. But before he can say a word, I step between them.
“It was me,” I say, voice firm despite the adrenaline still coursing through me. “I hit Traeger first. This is on me.”
Vernon lowers his head, rubbing a hand across his jaw as he exhales slowly. The tension in his shoulders is visible.
“I knew this was a bad idea,” he mutters, more to himself than to us. “I’m sorry, guys. I can’t do this anymore. I’ve got a family—I need something stable. I’m flying back to Pittsburgh. I hope things work out for you.”
And just like that, he turns and walks away, leaving silence in his wake.
I glance over at Elias, and the look on his face guts me.
He’s not just disappointed, he’s empty. Like everything that just happened confirms every worst belief he holds about himself.
I want to shake him, to scream that this isn’t his fault, that Traeger had it coming.
That Atlas Obsidian should never have been under the thumb of someone like that in the first place.
They deserve their own tour; lord knows they’ve earned enough fans for it.
Cody, Grady, and Jasper stand frozen, eyes darting between us, as if hoping someone else knows what the hell to do next.
We’ve been dropped from the tour. We’ve lost our manager.
And now the guilt is closing in around me like a vice.
I know what I did wasn’t right. I know Traeger was wrong, but maybe we should’ve just walked away.
“I’m sorry,” I say, the words catching in my throat. “I never meant for this to happen. Please don’t blame Elias; this was my fault.”
They all look at me, sadness etched across their faces, the weight of the night settling heavily in the air. Cody is the first to speak, his usual spark dulled to a flicker.
“We should get on the road, figure out what’s next.”
One by one, they drift away, shoulders hunched, too drained to speak.
Only Elias remains.
His arms are crossed tightly over his chest. I step in closer, reaching out to lift his head. His eyes meet mine—haunted, distant.
“Don’t do that,” I whisper. “Don’t carry this like it’s yours. Traeger is an asshole. I should’ve kept my cool. I’m sorry.”
He just nods, once, stiffly. Then his voice comes, quiet but clipped.
“We should get going. We need to get you back home to Nashville.”
He turns before I can respond, walking off into the darkness, leaving me standing alone beneath a sky that suddenly feels impossibly wide and empty.
And just like that, it’s over because of a single, reckless decision I can’t take back.
Vernon didn’t say another word. He just grabbed his things, walked off the bus, and got into the waiting taxi like he couldn’t leave fast enough. The rest of us scatter in the quiet that follows, each person peeling off in a different direction, like pieces of something that used to be whole.
I slip into the back room and shut the door behind me.
The moment it clicks closed, my chest caves in.
I collapse onto the bed, sinking into the mattress like it might swallow me whole.
My hands come up to cradle my face, but the tears are faster.
They slip through my fingers and fall onto my bare leg, leaving tiny, stinging kisses of shame behind.
The guilt is suffocating. It presses against my ribs, wraps around my throat.
I can barely breathe through the weight of it.
I can’t believe I’ve done this—derailed everything.
Everything they’ve worked for. We’ve become a family these past few months, and now I’ve gone and cracked the foundation with one impulsive punch.
And Elias.
God, Elias.
I know that no matter what I say, he’s going to carry the blame like a weight he believes he deserves, and the thought that I’m the reason for even a fraction of his pain is unbearable. It tears at me in ways I can’t put into words.
Not to mention whatever we’ve been building, it’s been quiet and slow and unexpected. But it’s real. At least, it feels real… for me. Something more than just tour hookups and fleeting summer heat. And now I can’t stop thinking that I’ve shattered that, too.
My phone vibrates suddenly, pulling me from the spiral. I glance over and see Sasha’s name lighting up the screen. I wipe at my face quickly, trying to gather myself before answering.
“Hey,” I say, my voice thin and scratchy.
“Oh my god, Ramona, what the hell happened?” she blurts. “Jasper said you punched Traeger. That he kicked you off the tour!”
I let out a breath, slow and shaky.
“Yeah. He said something really fucked up to Elias and… I lost it. I didn’t even think. I just reacted. I’m so sorry, Sasha. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
“I don’t blame you,” she says without hesitation. “Traeger is a micro-penis. Like, a fully certified, egotistical, little dick tyrant. They’re better off not being under his reign.”
Her last word—reign—hits something in my brain like a match to gasoline. I sit up straighter, the haze in my head clearing just enough to let a wild little idea spark to life.
“Ramona?” Sasha’s voice filters through the pause. “You still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here. I’m… I think I know what I need to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I need to fix this. I’ll call you back later.”
And before she can answer, I hang up—heart pounding, mind racing. Because maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe it’s the beginning of something else entirely.