Iknow it was selfish of me to ask the guys to do “Without You” to close out the show, but they’ve had my back for the last ten years, and I knew this would be no different. I thought she’d be halfway home by the time the show started, but when Dani told me she’d be there, I knew it was my last shot. My only shot.
After my colossal fuckup last night (and again this morning) I needed to do this, and they knew it. It wasn’t even a question. I put everything into that song, and when we finally hit the last note and I find the nerve to look over to where Tyler always stands, she’s gone. Vanished into thin air like the night we met.
A fitting end to the torment that has been the last six months.
I go through the encore and the post-show motions—bowing, tossing sticks into the crowd, highfiving the fans against the rail—but my heart isn’t in it. I’ve never been glad to end a tour, but for the first time in my life, I can’t wait to get out of here.
I meet the guys and crew backstage for one last huddle, and when we break apart, I turn and walk away to head straight to the greenroom. None of them try to stop me or follow me. They noticed she wasn’t waiting, and they know me well enough to know how I’m feeling right now. That I just need to be alone.
When I get there, I kick the door shut behind me. Stopping in the middle of the room, I throw my head back and laugh.
“Oh, you fucking idiot,” I say, covering my face with my hands. “You ruined everything.”
“What if you didn’t?”
I jump, turning around to see Tyler sitting on the couch behind me. I must have missed her when I stormed in. I didn’t even look in that direction. My heart hammers against my ribs, and I’m not sure if it’s because she’s here, or she scared the ever-living shit out of me, or both. But she’shere.
“You stayed,” I say, swallowing the sting in my throat.
“I told you; I don’t make the same mistake twice.”
I walk to the couch and fall to my knees before her. I’ve never hated myself more than I do right now, looking into her eyes and knowing that I hurt her. It’s like every mistake I’ve ever made is staring back at me, pressing down on my chest and suffocating me.
“Tyler, I am so, so, sofuckingsorry,” I say, throat tight with the emotion I’m fighting to keep in check. “I was embarrassed that I’d been drinking and terrified that I somehow took advantage of you, and I panicked. I told you I would never hurt you, and I fucking did it anyway. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, or your love, or your trust, but I’mbegging for it anyway. I meant every single word I said last night. I love you—”
The last word is barely out of my mouth when she kisses me. I lean into her and kiss her right back. And I keep kissing her. Over and over andoveragain, making up for lost time. Recounting every moment that I’d wanted to kiss her in the last six months and then adding a few more for no reason other than because I fuckingwantto. Because Ican.
“Take off your shirt,” she says, pulling back.
I raise a brow.
“While I appreciate the fact that you’re this eager to get me naked again, this isn’t a private room,” I say. She rolls her eyes.
“Just take your damn shirt off.”
I reach down to the hem of my shirt and peel it up my body and over my head, tossing it to the floor beside us, her eyes immediately landing on my left pectoral. She reaches a hand up and runs her fingers over the ink there. The small black heart she drew on the note she left me that morning and two delicate, swooping letters—Ty.
“Oh my god,” she whispers. “When did you do this?”
“The next morning,” I say. Her eyes dart to mine and I shrug. “Whether I managed to track you down or not, I knew I was going to love you anyway.”
“You know you could have just showed this to me from the beginning, right?” she asks. “It certainly would have cleared everything up.”
I shake my head.
“I hid this from you on purpose. I didn’t want you to feel any sort of obligation to me. I wanted you to make up your own mind about how you felt.”
“And the drinking?” she asks. “Are you alright? Is it something we need to work on now that the tour’s over?”
Is it somethingweneed to work on?
We.
My heart squeezes in my chest at her choice of words, once again proving that I’m not alone. I’ve never been alone. I never will be alone. And, for once in my life, I finally believe it.
I shake my head.
“No,” I say, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and rubbing my thumb across her cheek. “I’m good. It was…not the best decision I’ve ever made, and I own that. I should have just talked to you.”
