I want to push her. To force her to tell me what she went through while we were apart. To reach inside her and pull out the words, one by one, until there are no more secrets left between us.
But I’ve got secrets of my own, things she still doesn’t know: about my arrest at The Viper Room and the note I should’ve left on her bedside table that night, explaining where I’d gone. The weight of those unspoken words presses down on my throat a little harder every time she looks at me with wariness in her eyes, as though she expects me to fly off the rails again at any moment.
I’ve given her all the ammunition she’s ever needed to distrust me. Whether it’s pride or sheer stubbornness keeping me from telling her the truth doesn’t really matter — based on what I overheard at the pool yesterday, hearing it wouldn’t change a thing between us.
Strictly platonic.
The words ring in my ears as I say goodbye at the door to her room, trying not to dwell on the pained look in her eyes when I walk away. Stepping inside my suite, I’m not entirely surprised to find Lincoln stretched diagonally across my king-sized bed, playing video games on the mammoth flatscreen.
“What are you doing in here?” I rumble as I collapse on the sofa by the window. “You have your own room right next door.”
“Yours is bigger.” His tone is completely unapologetic; his eyes never flicker away from the screen. “How is she?”
“Better.” I keep my voice soft, so the words don’t carry through the wall.
“So, she’ll be good to go for the show tomorrow night? No more waterworks?”
“Give her a goddamned break, Linc. She’s been through a lot, lately.”
“Never said otherwise. I just want to make sure she’s ready to go on before we shove a mic in her hands in front of twenty-thousand people.”
“She’ll be fine. She just needed a minute to get her head together.”
“Seems like a lot of that is going around, lately.” He groans as his character gets killed with a shower of animated blood, finally setting down the wireless controller to glance at me. “You, last night, for instance.”
I grunt.
“Where were you, anyway? You missed a great steak, plus watching me and Aiden win big at poker.”
I shoot him a skeptical look, having heard quite a different version of events from the bassist.
Lincoln sighs. “All right, that’s a lie. We got cleaned out. Lost a couple hundred each.”
“Sounds more like it.”
“So, where were you? Exploring the strip? Hitting a club? Hooking up with one of the criminally hot girls wandering around the casino floor?”
“I was helping the crew build our stage.”
His brows go up. “As in… moonlighting as a roadie?”
I nod tightly.
“Why the fuck would you do that?”
I prop my feet up on the coffee table. “I needed the distraction. Seeing as my surfboard is a few thousand miles away, manual labor was the next best option.”
Or, so it seemed at the time. I worked until midnight — hauling equipment, wiring speakers, tightening heavy bolts as we built the catwalk piece by piece. I figured I’d be far too tired to think about Felicity when I finally fell into bed.
A useless effort, it turns out — not only did I spend all night tossing and turning, I spent all day walking around with shredded arm muscles.
“Surprised the crew let you help.” Linc stares at me dubiously. “Do you even know anything about putting together a stage?”
“Remember where I used to work? The great dynastic plans I ditched to pursue music?”
“Your dad’s company.” Comprehension flares. “Ah. Right.Woods Electric. You guys did sound systems for stages and shit. So…”
“Like riding a bike.” Leaning back, I close my eyes. “We should really give the crew a bonus. They’re good guys, and they work harder than just about anyone I’ve ever met.”