Chapter 26 – Ravvi
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ravvi
Cove makes it through her bout of vomiting, but she’s miserable. The whites of her eyes are red, and her cheeks have burst capillaries. We keep most of the lights off because, when they’re on, all she does is squint.
By some stroke of luck, we don’t have a sound check today since we’re performing at the same venue again tonight. It gives us the opportunity to lounge around the hotel. Hopefully the extra few hours will give her time to recover.
I don’t even bring up McMillan.
Mostly because I can feel in the bond that she knows she needs to see him and soon. There’s no point in rubbing salt in the wound. Having a mainline connection to her thoughts and emotions helps.
She’s not blowing off our fears. She’s scared too, and that might be why she’s put off seeing the doctor for so long. She’s afraid of what he’ll say and if it’ll end our careers.
I have some doctor trauma of my own. If I didn’t trust my family completely, I would have refused to talk to any of the doctors they brought me to when I was younger.
Multiple physicians said that I should be committed because of the voices, but my mom was the first to politely tell them to go fuck themselves.
Which is funny because she rarely cusses.
She’s normally pretty reserved, right up until someone messes with one of her kids.
It makes me ache to call her and see if she has any advice, but that feels like it would be a betrayal to Cove and her privacy.
Once Damian lets him know Cove is sick again, Declan runs out and brings back a bunch of sports drinks, crackers, and other foods that will be easy on her stomach.
Cove doesn’t fight it, and I can tell by the concern vibrating off Declan in waves that he’s even more worried that she doesn’t fight his care.
He’s used to being the one to look after her when she’s not feeling well, but my instincts need this right now. With our bond being so fresh, I can’t be away from her just yet.
We’re all going to have to share the role of caregiver for now.
After Cove finishes half a bottle of Powerade and a few crackers, Declan seems satisfied. Maybe he knows that’s as good as it’s going to get at this point.
He gives Cove a kiss on her forehead and disappears into his room to shower and change.
It leaves a sour pit in my stomach, and I go right back to beating myself up.
I don’t want to keep them apart, and I don’t want to make him feel left out. I’m sure he already does, since we’re all bonded. If I were him, I’d probably feel like I was on the outside looking in. Then again, I’m more sentimental than he is.
The bottom line is, Declan is going to have to get better about sharing. We can all undertake the task of looking after our omega together. That’s really all I can offer at this point.
Not ten minutes later, the twins stagger out. I’m not sure where Bellamy is, but if I had to guess, I’d say she’s still asleep. It’s getting late in the day, but we’re all basically nocturnal at this point. Not to mention, touring is draining.
The twins take either end of the love seat, and they’re fully focused on the three of us. Cove snuggles closer to my side, and I can’t help but smile.
“I hate to say it, but you look like shit,” Riot says, nodding at Cove.
She grunts, flicking him off with her hand that holds the cracker. “Thanks. You’re beautiful first thing in the morning too.”
“I wasn’t trying to be a dick,” he says, grimacing.
“We’re wondering if you’re up for performing tonight or if we should plan to cancel our part of the show.” Creed leans toward, pointing at my omega. “None of us want to disappoint the fans or leave the label in a lurch. That being said, we’re a team.”
Riot nods. “If you need a break, all you have to do is say the word. We know how hard you’ve tried to stick it out. Creed and I talked about it last night. We’re a united front. We can let Rook know we need to take a break until your system regulates.”
Rook is mine and Damian’s dad, which makes everything a weird gray area.
I know my dad well enough to understand that he wouldn’t penalize any band on his roster for needing to take time off for a legitimate health emergency.
I also understand why Cove is worried about disappointing him and the other execs that signed our contract.
Rook just became her father-in-law, adding another messy layer to everything.
Damian reaches over, patting Cove’s thigh as he sends steady comfort through the bond. While it’s hard to pick out each emotion with the connection being so fresh, I believe he’s asking if she’s ready to let the twins in on the fact we’re bonded.
They haven’t gotten close enough to any of us to pick up the change in our scents. Damian’s bite is covered by her T-shirt and hair, while mine would only be visible if she pulled down her lip to show them.
“I appreciate that.” Cove leans forward, dropping the cracker on the package.
She grabs the neckline of her shirt, stretching it out enough that the twins can see Damian’s claiming bite.
“The three of us bonded last night.” Chaos erupts as they congratulate us, but she gets back on track as quickly as possible.
“We have the show tonight and another here tomorrow night. I’d like to try to play those out.
We have a small break afterward, and I plan to see the tour doctor then.
I don’t know if I can even stop a pack of suppressants in the middle, but the side effects are getting worse. ”
Creed stretches back against the cushion of the love seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ve already played more than half the tour. If we have to take a few weeks off for your health, then so be it.”
Riot shrugs. “I could use a break.”
I give them a grateful smile and run my hand down Cove’s arm. She’s been worried about letting them down. Having their assurance that they won’t hold it against her should help set her at ease.
It feels like we’re making real progress.
“It’s good to know there’s a plan,” Declan says, coming into the living room with wet hair.
It’s impossible to see the door to his room from where I’m seated, so I’m not sure when he started listening.
“While I have you here, I want to make something clear.” He comes to a stop at the end of the coffee table and glances between us.
“I’ve ignored a lot of questionable shit during this tour.
The garbage that was being handed around here last night is not something I’ll be ignoring in the future.
” He turns to glare at the twins. “Pick your party guests with care, or I’ll unleash Issac and Vince on your asses.
” He references two of the twins’ family pack, and a shiver runs down my spine.
That would be enough to scare my ass into submission.
It’s a rare occasion that we’re at the same venue multiple nights in a row, but it’s nice to know our way around. It would be even better if I could shake the weird pit in my stomach.
I should be on top of the world.
Cove and I bonded.
She even agreed to see the doctor.
We just have to make it through the shows tonight and tomorrow. I even asked Simon, our tour manager, to keep McMillan on alert that he’s going to be needed.
I stand around backstage, trying to shake off the nervous energy. There’s always a buzz that comes before we step on stage. This isn’t that, and I’m not sure if I’m picking up residuals through the bond from Cove or Damian or what the hell is happening.
Let’s hope you’ve kept your reflexes honed, a low male voice says close to my ear. It’s familiar, but it’s been so long since I’ve heard it that I start to question my sanity. I was sure he’d moved on like…fourteen or fifteen years ago. You’re going to want to throw yourself back toward the stage…
The screams of the audience get obnoxiously loud, drowning out whatever else the whisper was trying to say.
That’s inconvenient.
We tear through our set. Excited energy vibrates through the crowd. It’s one of those dream performances where everything clicks. At least, until our second to last song. That’s when the anxiety in my chest becomes almost unbearable.
I try to shake it off to stay focused on finishing out our set, but the world gets hazy and muted to the point I’m not even singing my lines.
It feels like I’m underwater.
My head swims. I’m dizzy and uncoordinated in a way I’ve never been, at least not while I’m on stage. The adrenaline always kicks in, slowing everything down until I can hyperfocus.
The stage lights burn my eyes, and no matter how many times I blink, my vision stays fuzzy.
I know better than to ignore a warning like the one I got before walking out on stage. If I blow the show, so fucking be it. I’d rather be looked at as the asshole who had a psychotic break on stage than to disregard something that could be serious.
Glancing around, I check on my bandmates.
My brain is in disaster mode.
Something is coming, even if I don’t know what it’ll be.
Maybe I’ve seen too many scary movies because my line of sight immediately moves to the rafters to make sure none of those heavy lights are about to snap and take one of us out.
I use an electric bass for this song, and my Rickenbacker hangs around my neck. Without my addition, the song sounds way off.
That’s not the only strange thing.
Cove mumbles into her mic. It’s nothing like the vocals she normally produces, coming off as an incoherent slur of words. She leans toward the crowd, which is a pretty standard move, but she wobbles, losing her hold on her guitar.
Something is very wrong.
Twisting toward the backstage area where Simon supervises, I bring my hand flat over the other that stays vertical. I played soccer for like two minutes in high school, and all I remember is that’s the universal sign for timeout.
Hopefully he takes it for what it is—a cry for help.
I rip off the strap on my Ric, tossing it aside with little care.
My head is still foggy, almost like I’m swimming underwater, but I dart around my mic stand, beelining for Cove.
The others have noticed something is wrong. The audience has too, by their expressions. It ripples through the crowd like a wave, and a few fans hit their feet. Maybe they think they can catch her, but the partition and security guards would prevent that.
Cove stumbles forward, taking out her mic stand in the process. The screech of feedback is shocking, but I have bigger fish to fry.
If she edges any closer to the front of the stage, she’ll take a header right off. It’s not that the fall would kill her, but it wouldn’t feel great. There’s every possibility that she could break a bone or give herself a concussion, and if she fell wrong, it could end up being even more serious.
I launch forward, hooking my arm around her middle, but I’m not prepared for her to fall forward as dead weight.
I have a split second to make the call.
If we’re going over the edge of the stage, I’m cushioning her fall.
There’s no question about that.
Pushing off with my heels, I spin, pulling Cove’s back to my chest and rotating.
Throw yourself back toward the stage, the whisper reminds me.
Doing exactly that, I sling us back toward the stage with every bit of upper body strength I possess. My right arm and leg fly over the edge, and I briefly consider tossing Cove back onto the stage. I could probably land without too much difficulty if I’m not trying to manage her dead weight.
My eyes widen as Declan appears.
My left foot slips around the edge of the stage, looking for purchase, but he grabs my left arm, pulling us to safety just in time.
Cove’s guitar slams against his chest, and she wobbles between us. The way her head lolls around is concerning as fuck, and my heart beats dangerously fast.
I meet Declan’s eyes, and his mouth hangs open.
Holy fuck.
We need help.
Now.