What the actual hell?
I peek around the corner and step into the room to find Luke talking to Raoul. Both of them turn toward me as if I have just walked into a crime scene.
“Effa, you need to be getting ready,” Luke says, already shooing me with his hands like I’m a stray dog nosing around where I shouldn’t.
I fold my arms, digging my heels in. “What the hell are you guys talking about?”
“General business,” Luke says, brushing me off. “Nothing for you to worry about. Go on, Effa.”
Oh, hell no.
He can’t shoo me off that easily.
I glance at Raoul, who’s standing there grimacing like he’d rather be anywhere else, then back at Luke with narrowed eyes. “Luke, I’m not stupid. You were discussing Jett and me. Why?”
Luke exhales loudly, clearly annoyed, but steps up to explain. “Look, people are starting to notice that Jett’s attention toward you is becoming a little, well, concerning. There’s been some tension with him and the crew too. So I want Raoul to keep a buffer between the two of you.”
I snort, crossing my arms tighter, letting out a half-laugh. “You’re kidding, right? The guy’s a little weird, sure, but this doesn’t sound logical. We’re all working the same tour. Whathappens if we need to talk shop? Separating us is only going to make things harder for him and me to an extent.”
Luke doesn’t budge. “Effa, we don’t trust him alone with you.”
That hits differently.
My jaw tightens as I process the weight of his words. “Okay… well… if you’re really that worried, then fine. Have Raoul watch me. He does that already anyway. And if Jett does anything shady when we’re together…” I glance at Raoul and grin, “… then Raoul can judo chop his ass.”
For a second, Raoul actually smirks—it’s his version of a full-on belly laugh.
Luke glances at him for confirmation. “What do you think, Raoul? Can you trail her? Keep an eye out?”
Raoul nods, calm and composed. “Of course. If Jett becomes a hassle, I will, indeed, judo chop his ass.”
I laugh, giving him two thumbs up, feeling oddly reassured. Raoul rarely shows any emotion, but I’ll take it.
Luke rolls his eyes and grabs my shoulders, spinning me toward the door. “Now go. You’re about to hold up the show.”
He gives me a gentle shove, and I take off, only to slam on the brakes halfway out the door. Spinning back, I dart to the desk, snag my lucky pick, flash the guys a big grin, and bolt like a lightning strike back down the corridor toward the stage.
Still, there’s a little voice in the back of my head that won’t shut up.
Did I just make the right call?
Because if we’re suddenly keeping Jett at arm’s length, that’s only going to stir the hornet’s nest. He’s the type who doesn’t like being boxed out, and if this makes him feel like he’s being frozen out completely, he’ll lash back.
But this is the smart move.
The safe one.
I just hope Mercs sees it that way.
Two Weeks Later
We’ve finally landed in Pennsylvania—Mercs’ hometown. While we’re playing two nights in Pittsburgh, we’re staying for four days, and for the first two, we’re heading to Ligonier to see his gran and sister, Kiera.
Since friending Kiera two weeks ago, we’ve been chatting a bit online. She’s intelligent, charming, sweet, and everything I expected from an eighteen-year-old. She’s also whip-smart and funny, which honestly makes me even more nervous about meeting her in person.
I reach over and squeeze Mercs’ hand, glancing at his face as he smiles. “You excited?”
“Yeah, looking forward to it, but nervous too. I just hope you all get along okay.”
