“Here.” He unscrewed the lid from the water and pressed it into her hand. “Nobody can see that your hands are shaking.”
“Except you.”
“But your secret’s safe with me, so drink up.”
“I need to go back to the tent,” she whispered after taking a few shallow sips. She pressed the bottle to her cheek, but that didn’t help. She wasn’t hot.
“What happened out there?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Dean stared at her incredulously. “It damn well does. Tell me.”
“Don’t yell at me.” She closed her eyes and put the cap back on the water bottle. She just wanted to lie down.
“This is what happened in Savannah?”
“Maybe.” Her stomach knotted up.
She could feel him moving around her. She blinked her eyes open when he settled beside her on the bed and took the water bottle from her hands.
“I think you need to see someone about this. A medical professional.”
She started to cry. It was like a dam burst, and she sobbed against his shirt as he lowered them both so they were flat on the mattress. “That’s not the answer I wanted,” she sniffled, burrowing deeper into his chest.
“I know. Do you want to talk about what you were thinking on stage? Would that help?”
She shook her head. Not if she was going to have to talk about it over and over again with a doctor. And when was that going to happen? She was just kicking off the Western leg of the tour.
“We can fly ahead of the buses and meet someone in Denver,” he said quietly into her hair, his voice steady.
“That’ll mean telling people.”
“People already know. That’s why you brought me on tour, remember?”
She frowned. No, she’d forgotten that. And it had been a non-issue.
“We can go out and do some shopping while we’re there. I’ll roll up my shirt sleeves and everything. Start some Arm Guy rumours.”
“You don’t want to do that.”
“I want to do whatever it takes to keep you feeling safe.”
“Don’t let go…” she whispered, giving in to the sleep that was calling for her.
“I won’t.”Not ever, she wanted to imagine he said next, but she was already drifting.
— —
Dean watchedLiana sleep for a while, then pulled out his phone and texted Brad.
He filled the tour manager in on Liana’s panic attack. Brad immediately jumped into action, and they had a new travel plan within an hour.
“She wants to keep this low-key,” Dean kept repeating, and he was ninety percent sure Brad got that, but there was enough doubt that he stayed in the close vicinity of the bus so when she woke up, he’d be there to stand beside her.
The buses would be hitting the road in a few hours. They’d stuck around after her show so the crew could enjoy some of the other acts, and they had a day in between this concert and the next one in Colorado.
But Dean and Liana would be heading to the airport shortly. Brad already had an appointment lined up for her with a highly-recommended therapist for the next morning in Denver.
