We eat in easy silence for a while, the soft murmur of the café filling the air—clinking cups, laughter, the hiss of steam from the machine behind the counter. Outside, sunlight spills through the window, warming the table and turning his tattoos gold. After a few minutes, I can’t help but ask,
“So, what’s next? For you. For the band.”
He swirls his coffee before answering.
“Christmas in L.A. I think. Studio stuff. Interviews. Press. Then back on the road.”
The words settle heavy between us.
Back on the road.
He must notice the flicker in my expression, because his voice softens.
“Hey.” He reaches out, sliding his thumb across my knuckles. “You’re going to be with me, right? Don’t overthink it. You and Mac will be together. Security is tight. I’ll be in your bed every night.”
I nod, the reassurance grounding me more than I expect.
His grin returns—devastating. Dimples making an appearance. “Finish your coffee, wife. I’ve got somewhere to show you.”
“Where?”
He pushes his chair back, standing and tossing a few bills on the table. “C’mon. L.A.’s got a few secrets worth knowing.”
Trey drives. The further we go, the quieter it gets. The palm trees thin out, replaced by open stretches of road and cliffs that tumble down to the Pacific. The ocean appears like a secret.
Trey parks the truck at the edge of a dusty turnout and kills the engine. The sound of waves rushes up from below. For a moment, neither of us moves. He just sits there, arm draped over the back of my seat, staring out through the windshield.
“C’mon, Dove,” he says finally, pushing his door open. “You’ve gotta see this.”
The wind catches my hair as soon as I step out. It smells like salt and sunshine. Trey circles around the truck, lacing his fingers through mine as he leads me toward the edge of the bluff. The sea stretches out forever, sunlight breaking over the surface like glass.
“Not bad, huh?” he murmurs, slipping off his cap and running a hand through his messy hair.
“Not bad at all,” I say softly, watching the waves crash against the rocks far below. “It’s beautiful.”
He glances sideways at me, his lips curving.
“You’re beautiful.”
My heart stutters. He’s not even trying—he justis.
We stand in silence for a while, the wind tugging at our clothes, the horizon blurring into sky. Then he crouches down, picks up a small rock, and tosses it over the edge.
“I used to come to places like this when I was a kid,” he says quietly. “Anywhere I could get high enough to breathe. Home wasn’t exactly peaceful, you know?”
I nod, remembering what he told me about his father. “You said he hurt you.”
He hums in agreement, gaze still fixed on the water.
“Yeah. Guess pain is always easier to remember. It sticks. The good stuff fades too fast.”
I want to reach for him, but before I can, he turns—eyes soft now, almost boyish under the sunlight. “Your turn, Dove.”
“My turn?”
He nods once. “Tell me about Gideon.”
The name alone is enough to make my stomach twist. It also makes my heart ache a little to hear his name coming from Trey’s lips.
