Someone wolf-whistles behind us. Another voice yells, “Get a room!”
Lucy grins and flips them off without looking away from me. “Stay right here. Don’t move. Don’t even think about disappearing while I make some calls.”
“Not going anywhere,” I promise.
She starts to walk away, then turns back and kisses me again, quick and fierce. “I love you, Nash Kincaid.”
“I love you too, Lucy Calder.”
As she hurries toward the buses, already pulling out her phone, I lean against the wall and watch her go. Theconcrete is cool against my back, a sharp contrast to the warmth still humming through my veins.
Two days. Forty-eight hours to show her exactly how much I’ve missed her, how much she means to me. How much I want this—us—to work, no matter how complicated it gets.
It’s not nearly enough time.
But it’s a start.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Lucy
This is so not how I saw tonight going. Thought I’d drag myself through the show, hit the showers, pass out on the bus, then wake up somewhere in Texas and veg in the hotel until call time for dress rehearsal. Instead, I’m in a rental car with Nash, holding his hand and watching the city lights zoom by as I study his profile in astonishment.
The one thing that kept my nerves at bay night after night—imagining him sitting in the front row, beaming with pride as he watched me—it came true.
It came fricken true!
I can’t stop touching him. Looking at him. Smiling at him. It all feels so surreal that part of me worries that maybe, if I glance away, he’ll disappear and I’ll wake up in my bunk in the bus, alone, disheartened, disappointed.
As soon as we’re out of the car, Nash wraps an armaround my shoulders and draws me close, like he can’t not touch me either. “You look wild, you know? With your fancy hairdo and stage makeup. I wonder if people are gonna think I paid you to come here with me.”
I roll my eyes. “Right, it’s the sweats and slides that really sells it.”
Luckily, we don’t pass anyone on the way to his room. As soon as the door swings shut behind us, he pulls me into his arms, pressing his forehead to mine and staring deeply into my eyes. “I can’t believe this is real.”
“Me neither.” I tilt my chin upwards and kiss him. My body responds instantly, yearning, wanting,craving.Nash’s hands press against the small of my back, his body obviously responding with a yearning and craving of its own.
“I need a shower,” I whisper, kissing him softly on the jaw, right below his ear. “Care to join me?”
The next morning, Nash and I order breakfast to our room and sip coffee, holding hands across the table. I’ve been gone almost as long as I’ve known him, and yet, somehow, being with him again feels like life has returned to how it’s supposed to be.
“Tell me everything.” His voice is low. Warm. Comforting.
“That’s a tall order. Everything is a lot. I don’t even know where to start.” Bus rides. Pre-show excitement. Post-show crash. Sandro’s unpredictability anddemanding nature coupled with the sheer exhilaration of listening to thousands of people scream, cheer, and sing along.
“Start simple. What’s been your favorite city so far?”
I think back on the blur of the last few weeks, trying to decipher one stop from the next. “Honestly? I’d be better able to tell you what’s been my favorite stadium so far. Most days I have no idea where I am. The bus stops, we do our thing, we get back on the bus, rinse, repeat.”
Nash narrows his eyes. “No way.”
I shrug. “You saw how it was last night. The night before we were in… um… San Diego? I think? Anyway, we did the show, loaded up after, drove into Phoenix. There was time to eat, rehearse, and you where there for the rest.”
Nash throws an arm over the back of his chair, crossing his ankle over his knee. “I guess I thought you’d get to see more of the country.”
“I did too, honestly. But, I don’t know. It’s grueling. And exciting. And hard. And wonderful.” I lift my coffee to my face and inhale, organizing my experience into words. “It’s the worst best thing I’ve ever done.”
“Are you enjoying it?” Nash has his evaluating face on. Like he’s weighing everything I’m saying against what I might not be saying, watching facial cues for context. It reminds me of when we first started getting to know each other, like I’m a puzzle he can’t help but try to solve.
