I jolt, bumping my elbow into a case. Dean stands two feet away, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes locked on mine with the intensity of a man who has reached the end of a rapidly fraying rope he knows he can’t cling to anymore.
“You’re not supposed to be back here,” I deflect, rubbing my elbow.
“And you’re not supposed to look this good.”
I swallow hard. “Neither are you.”
“Somethings can’t be helped.” His voice even lower now as he takes a step closer to me.
“Dean…”
“Sadie.” His mouth quirks up into a sly grin. “How you doing with this taking it slow thing?”
I grip my camera strap like it’s the only thing tethering me to gravity. “Just tell me this is real. I’ve worked too damn hard to get where I am to be the girl who falls for a man just because he looks at her like she’s fire.”
“Then fall forward.” His voice gentle as he takes another step in my direction.
My chest caves inward as I blink to hold my emotions in check. “Dean…”
“Sadie, I’m choosing you.” He steps even closer, his hands hovering near my arms but not touching. “I’d really like to try.”
“I want this. I do, but I’m not sure how we make it work.”
“I want this too.” His mouth lifts a millimeter. “And we’ll probably figure it out all wrong, but let’s do that together.”
A laugh escapes me; shaky, and terrified. He reaches up and brushes his thumb across my cheek. It’s the softest thing he’s ever done. It’s also the thing that sets everything in motion.
“Come find me after the show. Unless you’re not ready. But if you are…” His breath shivers across my cheek.
“I am.” It comes out more like a warning, because I know I’m putting my entire heart on the line right now. Heat pools low in my stomach. It’s strange how fear and want coexist like sparks in gasoline.
Footsteps echo. Someone rounds the corner. Dean steps back quickly, hand dropping, mask sliding back into place. He doesn’t say another word. Just gives me one last look that is filled with such raw certainty that my knees almost give out.
The stadium is a hurricane of noise and light and people. But all I feel is my pulse thumping beneath my skin. Like every beat of the drums is counting down.
I pack my gear slowly, trying to breathe, trying to think, trying to stop the tremble in my fingers. The crew filters out around me and the noise fades. My camera clicks shut in its case. I stand there in the quiet of the backstage hall, staring at the door that leads to the buses.
I take one step. Then another. My heart punching underneath my ribs. I don’t know what I’m doing. But I know who I’m doing it for. And for the first time since this tour began, I really let myself want him.
I walk toward him. Toward us. Toward a night I know will change everything for us. He’s already showered and leaning against the bus when I approach. He pushes off when he sees me, and strides over.
Jesus, he looks good. He’s wearing faded jeans, a fitted green tee that makes his eyes pop, his tattoo peeking out of the sleeve, and that chain that’s always fastened to his neck. He’s got a small duffel slung over his shoulder.
“Hi.” My greeting shy.
“Come with me.” He takes my hand in his and leads me to a car I didn’t notice was waiting. “I’m not staying on the bus for this.”
“Oh.” My brow rises in surprise, but it’s the good kind. The thought of trying to have any kind of serious interaction with Dean in the company of Mikey and Hayden was not a prospect I was looking forward to.
“I rented an Airbnb.” He shrugs. “I want us to be able to have some privacy.”
I nod in silence, understanding entirely what he means, and slide into the back seat of the waiting car. We’re both quiet the entire ride to the apartment he rented, which is only ten minutes away. But our palms are fused, our fingers linked, his skin against mine, the connection everything I need in this moment to keep me anchored. It says everything needed between us.
When we arrive, Dean punches a code into the electronic lock on the door, pushing it open when it lights up green, holding it until I pass through. He steps further inside, drops the duffel onto a chair in the foyer, then turns to face me.
He lifts a hand and cups my cheek before his fingers slide down to grasp the back of my neck, his forehead coming to rest against mine, his eyes locking with mine.
“I choose you.” His voice is barely a whisper as he breathes the words against my lips. “I choose this.” He feathers his mouth across mine. “I choose us.”
