“Don’t worry. I’m used to it, by now.” The laugh catches in my throat, coming out almost as a sob. “I’ve been lonely my whole life.”
Except for a few short months, when I held the frail beginnings of a different sort of existence in my hands. One with a man at my side who said he’d move the stars, if I so much as asked.
“So, what now?” Carly asks bluntly. “You’re just going to suffer for the next four months, keep him at a distance until you can walk away again?”
“Suffering is inevitable,” I point out, swallowing hard. “At least this way, I’ll suffer on my own terms.”
“Fine. Go ahead and suffer, you stubborn lunatic. That’s going to make this tour arealblast. I’m justthrilledto be along for the ride.” Her head shakes as her voice drops to a low mutter. “Not a Bronte heroine, my ass.”
I laugh and lean my head on her shoulder. “Thanks for coming.”
“Spirit guide, reporting for active duty.” She brushes a tear off my cheek. “Now, buck up. You’ve got ninety-thousand people to impress, and you can’t do it with puffy eyes.”
Chapter Twelve
ryder
I showup to soundcheck at the last possible minute.
I’m not exactly proud of the fact that I’ve resorted to avoidance, but I don’t have much choice. It’s either avoid her entirely or suffer the agony of standing three feet from her without being able to crush my lips against hers, to lay my hands on her skin and trace the fragile blue veins running beneath the surface like a roadmap to her most sensitive areas — first with my fingertips, then with my tongue.
My cock stiffens at the mere thought. A soldier standing at attention long after the war’s ended, ready to fight despite the fact that his commanding officer already called for a ceasefire.
The battle’s over, boys. A stunning defeat.
This love is a lost cause.
A month ago, floating on a surfboard in the most beautiful place on earth, I thought I’d experienced it: pure desolation.
I was wrong.
Rock bottom is not living in her absence. It’s the slow atrophy of watching her fade out of focus, effectively as the disease that stole her grandmother’s memories one by one.
Losing her when she’s still within reach is far worse than not seeing her at all.
The whole band is gathered on stage, waiting for me as crew members make last minute adjustments. I stand in the dark wings for a moment, simply watching her.
She laughs at something Linc says and my stomach turns to stone.
She smiles warmly in Aiden’s direction and my hands curl into fists.
“Still got it bad for her, huh?”
I whirl around toward the source of the voice, stunned to see the former stage manager from The Nightingale in Nashville sitting on an equipment case, legs criss-crossed in front of her. Seeing her instantly brings me back two years, to the nights me and the guys used to play in dives instead of arenas, our audience made up of barely-coherent bar flies instead of die-hard fans who paid for premium seats.
“Carly? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Felicity invited me.” She hops down from her perch and crosses to me, flashing her VIP badge. “Good to see you, Ryder.”
“Been a while.”
“That is has. A lot’s changed, since the last time I saw you.” Her head tilts, eyes darting over my shoulder to the girl on the stage. “And some things, not at all, apparently.”
I blow out a breath. “I didn’t know you and Felicity were still in touch.”
“Of course,” she says, like that should be obvious. “I mean, it wasn’t easy, what with her strange aversion to cellphones, but snail-mail was better than nothing. If she’d just fallen off the face of the earth without a trace, I would’ve totally…Oh.” She blushes when she sees the dark expression on my face. “Right. Sorry.”
“I’m glad to hear she kept a few of her ties intact.” My smile is razor-sharp. “I guess it was easier for her to cut some of us out of her life than others.”