He looks… young like this.
I sit beside him, blanket tucked over both our legs, Melody curled into a loaf near his feet like the world’s tiniest, fluffiest security system.
And I think.
About what he told me.
About all the women who threw themselves at him—some bold, some calculated, some just… opportunistic. The one who tried to trap him. The ones who followed him across state lines.
I used to think I was the odd one out.
Twenty-nine years old. A virgin. More comfortable with library databases than eye contact. I’d always assumed that made me the naïve one. The one behind.
But now…
I glance down at Max’s sleeping form. The soft crease between his brows. The faint scar along his jaw. The calluses on his fingers that brush against mine even in sleep.
Now I’m not so sure.
Because what’s lonelier? Waiting for something real your whole life?
Or giving yourself to people who only want to borrow you for a night?
Maybe I haven’t been missing out.
Maybe I’ve beenpreservingsomething.
Something sacred.
I watch him breathe. Wonder what that version of Max felt like—untouchable, wanted, but never trulyseen. Just a body. Just a name on someone’s fantasy checklist.
And suddenly, I feel it. A sharp, aching sympathy that sits heavy in my throat.
I lean my head back against the cushion and close my eyes.
And the last thought before sleep finally finds me is:
Maybe it’s better to be untouched than to be used.
24
MAX
Dear Old Dad
There’s something weirdly comforting about routine on the road.
Even when every night means a new city, another stage, the chaos starts to follow a rhythm. Load in, soundcheck, backstage nerves, lights up, lights out. Repeat.
But this tour?
This tour is different.
Because Nora’s here.
And now the routine includes the way she’s always up first, shuffling into the front lounge with her ridiculous fuzzy socks and that sleepy little “morning scowl” that disappears the second someone hands her a cup of tea.
It includes the way she perches in the jump seat beside the driver when she wants quiet, headphones in, some moody audiobook humming in her ears while the rest of us play poker or argue over playlists.
