My jaw tightens before I can stop it. “Don’t start.”
She doesn’t flinch. “I’m not starting anything, I’m just saying.”
I stare out of the other window, watching clouds swallow the wingtip. “I don’t usually let people see me like that,” I mumble.
“Why not?”
Because it ends. Because people get taken. Because I don’t deserve nice things without paying for them later. But I don’t say any of that. Instead, I admit, “Because it makes them think they’re allowed to want something from me.”
Sadie’s voice is careful. “And you think I want something from you?”
My whole body goes still. I turn to her too fast, like I have no control, and she’s already looking at me, not challenging, not pleading. Just open. The air between us feels dangerous.
She continues softly. “I don’t want your fame. Or your pain. Not even your story. Just you.”
The plane hums. My ears ring. My first instinct is to shut down, to cut it into pieces, to say something sharp. My second instinct is to stay quiet because if I open my mouth, I might say something that changes everything.
Sadie waits. And Jesus, she waits the way people who know patience do. The way Lily waited yesterday. The way Luc waits when he knows I’m about to bolt.
“I don’t know how to be wanted like that,” I finally admit, my voice wavering. It’s the truth even if it’s not the whole truth.
Sadie nods like I handed her something fragile. “Okay.”
“You don’t scare easy,” I add, because I can’t stop myself.
Her mouth curves. “Neither do you.” That should be a joke. It isn’t.
We sit in silence after that, but it’s different now. Less barbed. More real. I keep my hands on my thighs. I don’t reach for her. I don’t touch her. But my leg is still pressed to hers, and neither of us moves.
At some point I feel her head tip slightly toward my shoulder, not resting, just close. Like she’s tired and the pull is instinct. Every cell in my body wants to lean in. I don’t. Because I want it too much. I glance down at her hands in her lap. She’s wearing the ring her and Lily both bought yesterday. A thin silver band with a tiny sapphire stone.
My brain does a stupid, romantic little stumble that makes me want to punch myself. Sapphire. Tour family. Her world. My world. Our world. I look away before I get sentimental. I don’t do sentimental.
The flight is short. Too short for how long it feels like I’ve been holding my breath. When we land in Orlando, humid air hits us like a wet blanket the moment we step outside. Florida already sucks.
We pile into another van. The crew is waiting for us at the arena already because they drove the buses down without us. I should be thinking about soundcheck times. But all I’m thinking about is Sadie saying you. Not your fame. Not your pain. You.
The buses are here, but with this heat, it’s easier for us to stay in a hotel where we can manage the air conditioning and crowd. We check in. Keys are handed out. People scatter. Sadie starts to drift toward the elevator with Lily. I don’t know why the idea of her disappearing down a hallway makes my chest go tight. I don’t know what to do with that feeling except pretend it doesn’t exist.
She glances back once. Quiet question in her eyes. I answer without thinking. “Meet in the lobby at four,” I offer.
“For what?”
“Soundcheck. Pre-show stuff.” I keep it casual. “If you want.” It’s a half-invitation. A test. A coward’s way of asking her to be near me without using the words.
Sadie nods. “I’ll be there.” She turns away. And I stand there like a man who just got handed something he doesn’t want to drop.
Mikey jogs up behind me, suitcase banging his knee. “Okay, what the hell is going on with you?”
“Nothing.”
He squints. “You’re smiling.”
“I am not.”
“You are. It’s terrifying.”
“Go away.” I swat at him like I would a pesky fly.
