It gave them comfort to know Bryan was still around in some capacity, and I’m grateful he found me. Although, it hurts my brain when I try to think about how he did.
Maybe our fates are already written.
Or maybe they’re what we make them.
I don’t have a clue, but I really wish I had a trustworthy whisper around to tell me how much longer I have to wait for my soulmate to come around.
The meet-and-greet is packed tonight. There are all the normal faces—frat guys, college chicks, and the occasional couple. There are even a few housewives bouncing around the room, but they’re old enough to be our parents, so it’s weird as shit when they hit on us.
I end up talking to two women who are old-school Madness fans. It’s rare to see someone from our generation so enamored with Madness. Usually everyone our age wants to talk about Ruin, the band Damian’s and my dads were a part of back in the day.
I already know it’s coming before the ladies ask me to introduce them to Damian. They always want a picture with him because he’s the original Damian’s namesake and biological grandson.
I’m just the lucky stray Lyric took pity on. Not that I’ve ever believed my family sees me that way, but in some interactions with fans, it’s clear they do.
I laugh and glance over, taking stock of Damian’s posture.
He seems fine.
No one is fucking with him.
He’s got his earbuds in.
“Yeah, I think we can swing a quick introduction.” I guide them over and give Damian a heads-up that the ladies would like a picture.
The chicks funnel together in the middle, and I toss my arm around the shoulder of the woman closest to me as she holds out her phone to take a selfie of the four of us.
Cove pops up, smiling and waving. “I can take one of the four of you, if you’d like.”
The woman hands over her phone, and I start to feel like I’ve committed a crime.
Do I have PTSD or something?
This isn’t healthy. It’s conditioned anxiety, and it’s a bitch to deal with.
Tossing an arm around a fan for a picture isn’t exactly comparable to if Cove walked in on me sticking my dick in someone, but I never know what will set off an argument.
I stretch my arm over, giving Damian bunny ears.
The interaction is over quickly, and I step away, but I can’t figure out why Cove hands off the phone and slides over to stand at my side.
She tilts her face up to mine and smiles. I’ve seen this particular look on her face a lot over the years, but it’s so rarely directed at me that I start to get anxious.
“I heard we’re in a hotel tonight,” she says, bumping her shoulder against mine.
“Yeah, Simon warned me and the twins to pack a bag before we left the bus.” I bounce on my toes and end up rubbing my hands together. It’s a weird-ass nerve tick. “It’ll be nice to sleep in a real bed.”
“It will,” she agrees, peeking around.
I quirk an eyebrow, but I don’t think she notices, because it looks like she’s checking to make sure the women moved along.
They’re gone.
Damian also meandered over to sit by Declan. I bet he’s hoping Declan will protect him by ensuring he doesn’t have to interact with anyone else tonight. He’s usually fine with signing autographs. It’s the talking and touching people that gets questionable. Other times, he’s fine for all three. It just depends on whether he’s overstimulated.
“Are you hungry?” Cove asks, focusing back on me. “I’m hungry—like starving. I was hoping the two of us could talk. Maybe at the hotel? We could order room service or get something delivered. I don’t know. It’s just an idea?—”
“I could eat,” I say, wondering why there are no whispers around to give me some idea of what the fuck is happening.
