I snort, sitting up. “Right. Because ‘giving space’ is so their thing.”
No one replies, and the silence sits for a few minutes. Enzo pops his headphones back in and it feels like the conversation has ended. I go back to tapping my knee and thinking about the label.
Lily shifts, stretching her arms over her head as she opens her eyes. She gives me a tired smile before chiming in. “We’ve been solid for weeks now. The shows have been great. That has to count for something, doesn’t it?”
I lean back, crossing my arms. “Sure. But it’s hard not to feel like we’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
Lily lets out a small, noncommittal hum at the back of her throat, like she has something to say but isn’t sure how to start. I quirk an eyebrow at her, leaning forward slightly to encourage her to speak.
She scrunches her nose, hesitation written all over her face, before finally blurting out, “When we got back from The Ranch, Harris pulled me aside to talk about the band.”
Enzo immediately pulls out his headphones, making me suspect they weren’t even playing music to begin with. He sits up straight, his attention laser-focused on Lily. “And?”
“I don’t want you to be upset,” she says softly, gnawing on the edge of her lip. “Things felt really fragile with the band back then, and I was worried that if I told you what he said, it would make everything worse.”
“It’s okay, Lily. We’re not mad. Just tell us, sweetheart,” Marcus says gently, his voice calm and steady.
She nods, taking a shaky breath before continuing. “Harris said the label was done. Basically, any issue—no matter how small or whose fault—would be enough for them to terminate your contract and end the tour.”
I exhale a long breath, the weight of her words sinking in. So, the silence really has been a good sign after all.
From the corner of my eye, I see Jax step out of the bunks and into the living area. He moves toward Lily, kneeling in front of her and placing his hands gently on her knees. His green eyes are softer than I’ve seen them in a while, filled with something new: patience.
“Lily,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “You told us to trust you. That you had our backs.”
Tears brim in her eyes as she nods quickly. “I do. I promise I do.”
Jax’s gaze holds hers, steady and unyielding. “Trust goes both ways. You’ve got to trust us, too. We can’t hide things from each other just because they suck.”
Whoa. One therapy session, and Jax is already channeling Dr. Phil.
Lily stands abruptly, pulling Jax into a tight hug. Hervoice is muffled against his shoulder as she whispers, “I won’t do it again. I swear.”
She pulls back, turning to look at each of us, her tearful gaze lingering on every face. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice trembling but sincere.
Marcus stands, crossing the room and gently tugging her out of Jax’s grip. His hands rest on her shoulders, grounding her as he looks her squarely in the eye. “We’ve got your back too, sweetheart. Don’t forget that.”
Enzo, never one to miss an opportunity to touch Lily, gets to his feet with a smirk and strides over. “Now I want a hug too,” he says, wrapping his arms around her dramatically. “Especially after all this stress. We’ve got a show to play, and I need my emotional support moment.”
Lily lets out a watery laugh, her arms sliding around Enzo’s waist as he squeezes her theatrically. “You’re impossible,” she mutters, but the stress in the room is already easing.
“Damn right I am,” Enzo says with a smirk, stepping back and clapping her lightly on the shoulder.
Feeling the need to lighten the mood, I add, “Now, can we go crush it tonight? You know, since the label’s watching our every move like hawks?”
As if on cue, the bus slows, the familiar squeal of the brakes announcing our arrival at tonight’s venue. It’s a mid-sized arena in a city that’s always been good to us. Normally, the sight of it would send a rush of adrenaline through me, but today, the energy feels off, heavier somehow.
Maybe it’s just the lingering weight of Lily’s confession.
The bus door hisses open, and we grab our things,stepping into the sticky warmth of the evening air. The faint hum of the city buzzes in the background as the venue looms ahead, its massive frame illuminated against the dusk.
For a moment, I think maybe it’s just me overthinking. Maybe everything’s fine.
Then I see him.
Harris stands by the loading dock, arms crossed, his face unreadable as usual. The knot in my stomach tightens, a foreboding weight settling over me.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.
