“Why in the hell would I be online?” I’ve been riding an emotional rollercoaster ever since I woke up this morning; checking social media has been the last thing on my mind.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “It’s all over the internet.”

What is?  Latson taps something on his cell and hands it to me. The minute I see the pictures all the blood drains from my face. Someone posted pictures of me and Caleb standing in the hallway. He’s facing me, covering his junk, and I’m trying not to smile. The second photo shows us entering my room. How is this possible?!  I read the caption and the hashtags: The fun things you see on tour #groupielife #renegadetour #niceass.

Oh my god. I heard someone open a door.

“I can explain.” My voice is barely there. “I went over to shut them up. Heidi got mad about the flowers Caleb sent and she started hitting him and –” I’m rambling.

“Flowers?” Latson goes from incredulous to angry. “What flowers?”

Fuck. I can barely breathe. “Caleb sent me –”

Latson grabs his phone from my hand. “I’ve heard enough.”

“But –”

“Don’t.” His eyes flash and his entire body looks tense. “You need to go.”

I’m shaking. “Go where?”

“Anywhere but here. I can’t talk to you right now.”

I hate the way he dismisses me. “Please.” I reach out and graze his arm. “Let’s –”

He jerks his arm away and ignores me. He opens his door and walks inside.

“Latson.” I step forward. “Wait.”

He slams the door in my face.

I stand there, stunned. Tears burn behind my eyes and my heart threatens to pound out of my chest; I want to beat down the door and run away at the same time. Never in my life have I felt so helpless. Nothing I say will make this better. No apology will make this better.

I don’t know how long it takes me to walk back to Pete’s. When I get there I’m grateful Jules didn’t lock the door. I try to make it to my bedroom without anyone noticing me. It doesn’t work.

“Jen?” Pete sticks his head out of his room. “I thought you went upstairs.”

I look down to hide my face. “I’m back. Goodnight.”

“No.” He steps in front me and his face fills with concern. “Why are you all red?”

“It’s nothing. Just –”

“How’d it go?” Jules joins us, way too perky. “I didn’t expect –” She stops talking and narrows her eyes. “What happened?”

I can’t help it. The tears I was holding back spill over. Pete sets his jaw before pulling me into his arms. “What did he do?”

“Nothing. It’s my fault,” I say against his chest. “I messed up.”

Jules rubs my back to soothe me. “It’s okay. You’ll work it out.”

I close my eyes and remain silent. I can’t bring myself to say I don’t think so.

Chapter Twenty Seven

Oh, Ed. How I’ve missed you.

The soothing sound of my boyfriend’s voice travels from my phone to my ear buds. He’s kept me sane over the last three weeks, reminding me that everyone falls in love and everyone gets lost. I may be biased in thinking I get hurt more than others, but one look at my love life proves it hasn’t been stellar. I’m grateful my pretend boyfriend hasn’t abandoned me because I’ve needed him.

I’ve needed him ever since Latson slammed the door in my face.

With my eyes closed, I curl on my side in my bunk. We just left Pittsburgh, and Beau is driving us to Ohio. When we’re finished playing Columbus and Cleveland, the tour will end in Detroit. My rock star life will be over two months earlier than planned. It’s perfect timing really; Tricia called and my apartment is ready. I have a home back in Michigan.

Too bad my heart is in Illinois.

Sensing someone behind me, I roll over. Ariel pulls out one of my ear buds. “I need to interrupt your time with Ed for a minute.”

She knows I’m obsessed. I sit up and scoot back, so she can join me. “What’s up?”

“I’m staging an intervention.” She pulls her legs beneath her and gets comfortable. “I miss your smile.”

I look down at my lap. “Me, too.”

“I think you should know,” she pauses, “Dean and the guys are concerned.”

“Why?” I frown. I’ve hidden my feelings pretty well on stage. So what if I don’t go out to bars and parties?  The tour’s almost over.

Ariel tips her head. “When’s the last time you played the Fender?”

Ugh. “Last week.”

“Why?”

“Because I figured after two weeks of silence we were done.” I pull out my other ear bud and wad the cords up in my hand. “Latson doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

Ariel studies me in silence and crosses her arms. “You know I disagree.”

“Yes, oh Wise Sage.” I roll my eyes. This isn’t a new conversation. “I told you I wish things were different, but they’re not. I lost his trust. There’s no coming back from that.”

“Your brother said he’s miserable.”

“Probably because Pete threatened his life.” I knew my brother would stand up for me, but I didn’t realize he would hold it over Latson every single day. Jules sent me a screenshot of the reminders on Pete’s phone. Each day there is an alert for Remind my boss he lost the best thing he ever had. I don’t think my brother’s behavior is helping any.

“Let me ask you this.” Ariel shifts her weight. “If Latson called you right now and said he was sorry, would you take him back?”

“Of course I would, but …”

“But what?”

“We’d have to have a serious discussion about jumping to conclusions.”

If Latson has a fault, it’s thinking everyone is out to get him. I understand why he feels the way he does; a lot of close people have betrayed him. Yes, I missed the funeral, but he has to realize accidents happen. He can’t hate me more than I hate myself for that mistake. On the other hand, the situation with Caleb was coincidental. Should I have stayed in my room and tried to ignore the sex-a-thon?  Given the outcome, probably. However, I was standing up for myself and Roxanne. I won’t ever stop defending what I believe is right, regardless of who is involved. Whether it’s loud neighbors or Ariel’s right to choose or Gwen’s small chest, it’s part of who I am.

“He does tend to think the worst,” Ariel says. “He needs to move past the Caleb thing.”

I nod. “I don’t think it will be easy for him, though.”

“I don’t think anything worth fighting for is easy.” She pats her still-flat belly. “Case in point, Lil Munchkin.”

I smile.

“There it is!”  She grins. “I knew you could smile.”

“Only temporarily.” I smirk on purpose.

She groans and then bites her lip like she has a secret. “What if … what if I had news that might make it more permanent?”

I’m intrigued. “Keep talking.”

“What are your plans after the tour ends?”

My shoulders sag. I’ll be right back to square one. “To find a job so I can refurnish my apartment. Why?”

“If you say yes,” she taps her chin, “I’d like to make you my primary songwriter.”

I stare at her, stunned.

“I’ve talked to Mason, and he thinks my publishing company would take you on after hearing “Fairytale.” If it works out –”

I launch myself forward and hug her.

“Ah!”  She squeals.

“Oh my god, yes,” I say over her shoulder.

She laughs. “Do you want to hear the rest?”

I try to contain my enthusiasm and lean back. “Sorry.”

She smiles. “I’m not exactly sure how everything will play out, but there could be yearly advances on top of royalties. You’ll have to discuss the business stuff with them, but I know several people in the industry who make a good living writing songs. I can’t give you an exact amount of money, but –”

“I still say yes.” Is this really happening?  Is Ariel Allyn asking me to write songs for her?

“Excellent.” She extends her hand. “So, we have a deal?”

I reach for her hand, but stop short. “Wait. You’re not doing this because you feel sorry for me, are you?”

She gives me a pointed look. “Your songs will directly affect my career. I can’t make a call like this out of sympathy.”