“Yeah.” I smile. Small. Real. “Takeout sounds great.”
We head to the elevator together, not touching, but close enough that his shoulder brushes mine when the doors open. His hand hovers near my lower back as if he’s fighting the instinct to guide me in. And somehow that restraint is its own kind of tenderness.
The doors close. We ride up in silence, the kind that isn’t awkward anymore. The kind that feels like laying a foundation. And for the first time since Lincoln, I don’t feel like I’m waiting for the fall. I feel like we’re walking toward something.
Slowly. Carefully. But real.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dean
Problems
Aerosmith & YUNGBLUD
Memphis ends the way good things always do. Too fast. Too quiet. With a clock tapping its damn foot in the corner. We’re in the hotel lobby before sunrise, a tight little cluster of road cases we didn’t pack ourselves and coffee we desperately need.
The crew already drove the buses down yesterday, which means we’re flying like civilians today, and I don’t know why that feels worse than load-in. Maybe because airports are full of people noticing things. Maybe it’s because I’m full of things I don’t want noticed.
Sadie walks in right on time. She’s wearing leggings and a thin tee, hair in a messy knot, sunglasses perched on her head because even at this hour she’s still Sadie. She looks like sleep didn’t touch her, but her eyes are clear, awake in a way that makes me feel seen even when she isn’t looking at me. When she does look at me, it’s quick. Careful. Not avoiding. Just measuring my mood.
Last night was quiet. In the best way. We ate takeout upstairs with everyone, laughed at Mikey getting burped on by Larkin, watched Lily fall asleep mid-sentence with her head on Luc’s shoulder. It was normal. It was warm. Then it ended and the hallways got silent and I didn’t go knocking on Sadie’s door.
Not because I didn’t want to. Because I did. Way too much. I’m still feeling the kiss from Graceland like it left a bruise on my mouth. Like if I check my pulse, it’s stamped right there. I should’ve been able to play it off by now. I’ve played off everything my whole life. But for some reason, I can’t play this one off.
“Morning,” Hayden mutters, dragging his suitcase over the marble like it personally offended him.
Mikey looks half alive, hoodie pulled up, yawning. “I swear to God, whoever invented morning flights can fight me.”
Luc rolls his eyes with a fond smile. “You’ll survive baby brother.”
Lily comes down last with Larkin tucked into a carrier, the baby’s cheeks round and warm and asleep against her chest. She looks tired, happy, unbreakable. Luc goes to her immediately, kisses her temple, adjusts the carrier strap like he’s done it a thousand times.
Family. Tour family. Real family. All of it blurring into something that makes my throat tighten. Sadie steps in close to say hi to Lily and Larkin. Lily smiles at her like she knows exactly what happened yesterday and still won’t say a word unless Sadie asks.
I catch Sadie’s mouth curve as she coos at Larkin. Something deep in me eases. Then I remember I’m not allowed to be eased. I’m supposed to be hard, unyielding. And I sigh because truly, it’s not what I want anymore. But I’m not sure how to be anything else after so long.
We move as a pack through the hotel doors to the waiting vans. The driver checks a list and waves us in like we’re on a school field trip. Sadie ends up beside me without either of us choosing it. It just happens the way breathing happens.
Her shoulder brushes mine on the seat. I swear to God my whole body feels it. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move away. She just settles, hands folded in her lap, gaze on the waking city out the window like she’s giving me space to be normal.
I don’t know how to be normal with her. Quiet stretches between us, but it’s not awkward. It’s loaded. New. The kind of quiet that comes after a kiss you can’t forget. I try for normal and clear my throat. “You sleep?”
She glances over and shrugs. “A little.”
“Good.”
A beat.
Her voice is soft. “You?”
I almost laugh. Almost say do I ever? But her question isn’t casual. Its care disguised as conversation. “Yeah,” I lie automatically.
She studies me for one cruel second like she knows the lie is there and decides not to expose it. “Cool.”
We fall quiet again until we pull up to the airport and I’m immediately reminded why I hate these places more than I should. Too bright. Too open. Too many eyes. Every hallway feels like a stage you didn’t rehearse for. We get through security with minimal chaos, though Mikey tries to argue about his drumsticks being “sacred objects.” TSA does not care.
Sadie and I drift into the same line, the same tray station. She sets her bag down and I realize she’s wearing the same necklace she wore yesterday. A tiny silver camera. My throat tightens like an idiot. Graceland memory tries to crawl up my spine. Her mouth on mine. Her hands on my chest. The way she breathed when I kissed her, like she’d been waiting without expecting anything. I probably shouldn’t have done it, but I’m glad I did.
