Maybe this is all we get.Now.
And if that’s true, I need to make every second count.
I loop my arm around his knee, needing to feel tethered to something solid. To him. We sit here, side by side, held together by silence, by starlight, by the aching reality hanging between us.
He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my temple, and I melt into it.
It’s such a small gesture, but it feels like a vow.
I close my eyes, breathing in the stillness, the magic of this place, the warmth of his body beside mine. This moment is perfect, and I want to live in it for just a little longer.
Before the world catches up.
Before reality reminds us that even the brightest stars eventually burn out.
Before we fall from this heaven we’ve climbed into…
And crash back to earth.
***
We’re packed into a stretch pink Hummer, heading back into Denver.
Mercs is riding with us, along with Tank and a handful of the crew. There are about twenty of us crammed in, bodies and voices everywhere, the energy still buzzing from the show.
I’m perched beside Mercs, smoke curling around us as I enjoy my usual after-show joint. He’s watching me, his brows pulled tight as he sits in my haze.
He leans in close, his voice low. “Do you do that after every show?”
I turn my head, blow the last puff away from him, and nod. “Helps me unwind. I kinda grew up on the stuff.”
He nods but shifts away slightly, that edge of tension in his jaw returning, which is so different from how relaxed he was back on the rocks. I frown, stubbing out what’s left in the ashtray and taking a sip of my Mike’s Hard Strawberry Lemonade. The sweet-berry tang cuts through the moment, but not enough to ease the tension.
Maybe it’s too much for him—the weed, the chaos, the way I roll through life with whatever feels right. I’ve never needed it. It’s just a habit now—a ritual.
I glance over at Mercs, offering a small smile. “You okay?”
“Yeah, long day.”
I reach out, resting my hand on his knee. “Stay in my room tonight?” I whisper, low enough that only he hears me over the laughter and chatter echoing through the Hummer.
He covers my hand with his own and nods before I thread our fingers together.
The Hummer pulls into the hotel’s underground garage, and I sigh, grateful for the privacy that’s coming.
Raoul opens the door, and the crowd explodes out like champagne from a shaken bottle. I slip out just ahead of Mercs, and together we filter through the staff entrance and into the lobby with the others.
Butterflies stir in my stomach, not from the weed, but from the shift in energy.
Something’s off…
Off with Mercs.
Off with me.
We head toward the elevators in a flurry of noise and laughter. Everyone’s loud, loose, and happy.
Except us.
