He spun her, laughing. “You made it.”
Sweat saturated his T-shirt, but she didn’t care. The strength of his arms settled her mind, and the pulsating headache eased. A woodsy spice and musk filled her nostrils. She breathed in the aroma of coming home as he kissed her. The contact was too brief, and she wanted more, but he put her down and backed away.
“Don’t you dare move.” He raced back onstage, moving seamlessly back into the music. He rejoined Spike, jamming on the guitar, and finished out the rest of the song.
Roaring filled the arena as exuberant fans expressed their adulation. Ash pulled the microphone from the stand. He walked back to the drum set and said something to Bash. His friend gave a nod. Ash jerked his chin to Spike and Bent, who joined him, as he walked to the keyboards where he said something to Noodles.
Bash held his drumsticks over his head and clicked them together, establishing the beat for the next song. Spike and Bent moved to the center of the stage with Ash, the three of them holding still with their guitars at the ready. Bash began a slow steady beat on the drums, a hypnotic rhythm that tunneled into her gut.
Ash took the mic. “This is new. Something we’ve never played before a live crowd.” He chuckled and flashed a rock-star grin as he blinked into the lights. “Don’t get pissed if we fuck it up.”
The crowd screamed.
Noodles played a key on the keyboard. A single resounding note filled the arena. He followed it with a second warbling chord as Bent’s bass added to the soulful sound. Bash doubled up the beat, layering in complexity, as Noodles began a melody she’d heard once before on an acoustic guitar in a cabin in the woods.
Spike lay down the intro to Angel Fire’s newest song. Ash cupped the mic in his hands, closed his eyes, and pulled in a deep breath. Then, he belted out the opening lyrics of “Insanity.”
Beside her, Forest jumped. “Holy hellfire. A new fucking song.”
Forest bounced as Ash huffed out words to a song she’d watched him create. It sounded much different with the power of the band behind it, richer and full-bodied.
Spike’s harmonizing blended with Ash’s voice. The audience screamed as the band moved into the chorus. The energy of the arena escalated. Ash opened his eyes as the audience exploded. Heturned to her, and the crowd melted away. They were the only people in the arena as he sang about insanity.
It was true. Whatever this thing was between them, it was crazy. She had no idea what the hell they were thinking. No possible way this could ever work, but she knew, in her heart, that Ash would find a way.
A tear trickled down her cheek, and she let it fall.
The wild energy of the crowd proclaimed “Insanity” as Angel Fire’s next mega hit.
Applause descended in a deafening tsunami of sound as the sea of ecstatic fans erupted with their screams and adulation. Skye cupped her hands over her cheeks, using the motion to wipe at the tears before anyone could notice.
Ash spoke to the crowd, thanking them for the evening, and then launched into an encore set.
She stepped close to Forest to yell into his ear, “I’m tired, Bean. I’m going to wait in the dressing room.”
He gave her two thumbs-ups. “See you.”
A quick search, and she found Reggie. “Can you take me back?”
“Don’t want to wait for the end?” he asked.
“No.” She gave a shake of her head. “I’m exhausted, and my head is pounding. I think I need some water and something for my head. Do you mind?”
He took ahold of her upper arm in a gentle grip. “No problem. Stay close.”
The farther they moved from the stage, the worse her head ached. This thing between them was crazy. It would never work, as much as Ash would try to find a way. She had to find a way to say good-bye.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Reggie led Skyeback to the band’s dressing room. The roar of the fans followed them and then disappeared with the closing door. She hadn’t paid much attention when Reggie first brought her here, but now, she took a moment to appreciate her surroundings. She spun around, amazed and then was thankful for the sanctuary of silence.
He moved past an outer grouping of tables toward the furthest and most private of three seating areas. To her left, a galley kitchen held a refrigerator and what appeared to be a fully stocked bar. He took her to the smallest seating area, but there was nothing simple or plain about the opulent leather of the sofa and matching chair. A mahogany coffee table had been buffed to such a deep shine that her reflection stared back from the surface, looking every bit as exhausted as she felt.
“The band usually hangs out after the show, greeting fans and dealing with the local press. Considering the latest news, Mr. Dean will probably be tied up with more than his fair share of interviews.” He headed back to the door. “I have to be at the meet-and-greet, but if you need me, just call.”
They’d traded contact information during the drive over, and she had not only his cell number, but Sam’s and Donald’s as well. She sank onto the couch, reveling in the buttery texture of the expensive white leather.
“Thank you, Reggie.”
