“I get the feeling they’re trying to keep this whole thing going much longer than we thought,” I rush out.
“Hey, breathe,” he tells me, and I do.
Cash appears at our side. “Hate to break this up, but we need to go.”
Miles’s hand flexes on my hip.
“I love you,” he says softly against my temple, kissing the spot.
“Love you, too.” Tears sting behind my eyes, but I turn away before they fall.
My throat burns, but I keep moving.
I don’t look back.
Because if I do, I won’t be able to leave.
FORTY-FIVE
Miles:
I miss you already, honey
Me:
Miss you more
You’re going to kill it tonight, Starling. Knock ‘em dead
I collapseonto the couch in Cash’s dressing room, breathing hard. My hair is damp, and it sticks to the sweat on the back of my neck.
The roar of the crowd still rings in my ears. I’m not sure I’ll ever tire of it. This is only our third show, but I’m already addicted to the chants for an encore and the pure exhilaration of doing what I love. Thousands of people singingmysongs back to me. There’s no feeling like it. Well, almost none.
Me:
I think I’ve managed a hat trick if I do say so myself
Miles:
Of course you did
Now you go score one
No pressure or anything
Good luck!!
“Gross, you’re all sweaty.” Cash catches my gaze in the mirror.
I roll my eyes and grab a water bottle from the table, draining half of it. “Where’s Paula?”
“Who knows? Probably finding a new way to make my life miserable. Why?”
I set the bottle down, along with my phone. “Why do you put up with any of them?”
The people around Cash are controlling, and that’s putting it lightly, but Paula is the worst of them. She checks in on him like a prison guard, especially now that we’re on tour. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did nightly bed checks.
He scoffs. “I got in bed with the wrong people—figuratively, not literally—when I was young and didn’t know any better.”
