For how long have we traveled this road together?

As long as I’m with you, I hope to travel it forever.

When forever’s path comes to its end,

I will call upon Eternity for the next journey to begin.

My promise to you is to travel by your side, too,

Spiraling through space and time

As two halves of one soul must do.

We’ll come full circle, you and me,

Once more to begin anew.

“For the love of all that’s holy…” I whispered, my vision blurring with this new wave of tears. “That fucking poet!”

Not wanting to ruin the paper by sobbing and snotting all over it, I slipped it back into the envelope and tucked it under my pillow. I pushed the lotus blossom into the far corner, so it wouldn’t be crushed when I got in. Grabbing some clothes, I hurried to the bathroom and took a blessedly cold fast shower.

Whatever walls I’d been trying to put up, Phil was effectively tearing them down. Not even the memory of him carrying a howling Brigid to safety from the Big, Bad Amazons could dampen the spark that poem had ignited within my heart.

Yeah, but he wrote that before he watched Sheri beat the crap out of that smarmy cunt. He actually tried to shovel a heap of blame on me, like I had anything to do with that!

He did apologize for that though.

But the fact that he blamed me at all is enough for me to hide that fucking wonderfully brilliant piece of written love and try to pretend I’d never read it!

Out of the shower and tucked into my foxhole, I popped in my iPod, put on Houses of the Holy, and attempted to commit the poem to memory. I cried some more. I cried a lot more. I sparked a spliff and slipped the poem back into the envelope.

Outside the bunks, I could feel, more than hear, the movement of people thumping around. Houses of the Holy had finished, and now, I was listening to Led Zeppelin IV. “The Battle of Evermore” sang sweetly in my ears as I desperately forced myself not to open the panel and see who was out there.

More time passed.

Mack fired up the bus.

My eyes, chest, heart, and soul ached. Salty hot tears leaked out from the corners of my eyes, running into my hair and behind my ears as I stared blindly up at the ceiling.

A soft knock penetrated through the foxhole just as “Kashmir” started. Quickly wiping the wetness from my face with the heels of my hands, I sniffled.

In a soggy broken voice that made me wince, I called out, “It’s open.”

Phil stood there, shirtless, his chest a blaze of color. He looked so damn fine and smelled so fucking heavenly that I wanted to rail against the gods for this little slap of injustice.

“Hey,” he said.

I yanked the earbuds out, and then his face turned painful.

“Baby…why are you cryin’?”

“Why wouldn’t I be crying, Phil?” I whispered, not wanting to incriminate him with Connor possibly lurking below in his crusty sock-filled foxhole. “Today completely sucked.”

Reaching in, he stroked his thumb along the side of my nose, collecting a fat tear and bringing it to his mouth before sucking it off. “Then, let me make it better. Why are you puttin’ us through this? You know it’s killin’ both of us.”

Swallowing thickly, I couldn’t for the life of me think of a single reason I was willingly doing this. Instead, I asked, “Do you still feel that way? When you wrote the poem, I mean.”

“Always.”

Laughing, Jason and Sheri tripped down the hall. Phil moved closer to me to let them pass. They trampled up the ladder, and Phil saw the question in my expression.

“I ain’t sleepin’ up there without you. It was made for us.”

“Where are you sleeping then?”

He jerked his thumb to the foxhole right across from the one I was in. “Figured if I couldn’t sleep next to you in the same bed, I could at least sleep in the bed next to yours.”

“I didn’t let that happen to Brigid,” I choked out.

“I know that. I was just pissed, and I said somethin’ stupid.”

“How was the rest of the show?”

He shrugged. “Fine. The people were happy.”

I nodded. “That’s good.”

“Kenna…”

“Yeah?”

“Can I please kiss you good night?” he asked so sweetly. His voice was so low that I almost couldn’t hear him.

Wanting nothing more, I nodded and leaned forward. He poked his head inside, and our lips brushed. It wasn’t enough for either of us, and we went back for more. Phil slid his arms around me and pulled me into him. My arms snaked around his shoulders and held on tight. My tongue traced the seam of his lips, and his mouth opened, inviting me inside.

Gods above, he tasted wonderful. My hand fisted in his hair, and he growled at me. The kiss turned feverish, leaving me aching all over for more. I was starting to wonder if he could fit in here with me when he broke the kiss, pulling back.

“Will you do somethin’ for me?” he whispered.

“What’s that?”

“Will you keep the panel open, so I can watch you sleep? I just…I miss you so fuckin’ much. I couldn’t sleep last night without you next to me.” He sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“Okay,” I whispered back.

Nodding, he opened his eyes, and mine filled up again, seeing just what it was I had been doing to him, to us.

He knows he fucked up. Why am I still punishing him? He’s truly sorry for what happened, for needlessly hurting me, for creating doubt within me. This is hurting me just as much!

Yes, but it would all be worth it when he finally broke down and spoke with Devon. Phil needed to hear the truth, and it wouldn’t be the same coming from me. By keeping my distance, I was making him see that there were far worse things than being forced to talk to the man who had once been his best friend.

“I love you,” he said softly.

“I love you, too. And thank you for the poem. It…I loved it.”

I watched him crawl into the foxhole across from mine. Once under the covers, he turned on his side, so we could see each other.

“How much longer?” he asked in a hushed tone.

“That really all depends on you,” I replied.

I didn’t know when it happened or how long it took, but finally, I fell asleep, putting a really difficult day behind me.

Phil wasn’t in his foxhole when I opened my eyes the following day. The scent of omelets, bacon, and dark roast hazelnut coffee wafted down the corridor.

Orlando, Florida, was hotter and brighter than Jacksonville.

Pulling myself out of the bunk, I headed into the bathroom for the usual morning ritual, and I got dressed for the day.

When I went into the kitchen, Alys, Lili, and Viv were enjoying Lewis’s fine cuisine.

“Where are the guys?”

“Out and about. I think X and Phil went shopping,” replied Alys.

Lili gave me a strange look but said nothing.

It was already ten o’clock. I’d slept pretty late and really, really well.

For the rest of the morning, I helped Lewis prep for dinner—spinach, bacon, and parmesan tortellini, salad, and garlic bread—while Lili snapped photos of our progress.

Then, I gathered my crap and headed out to check if there was any new talent. Alys opted to stay behind, having slacked on her duties the night before, but Lili happily traipsed next to me as we headed toward the security checkpoint.

Not far from the bus, Phil, X, Flipper, and Sheri stood together, looking like they were having a heated discussion. X and Phil had shopping bags in their hands.

“I know you don’t like—” Phil was saying, but he shut his mouth when he spotted Lili and me.

The rest of them followed suit.

“Hey, Baby Girl!”

His cheerful demeanor halted my steps for a beat, but then Lili and I continued on, giving them a wave.