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“I’m not so sure you can.”

His disappointment was a stone tied to her ankle, pulling her under the water. Her lungs burned as she realized, for the first time in all the years they’d worked together, he didn’t have faith in her.

“You know I think you’re the best in the business,” Derek continued, “but I’ve already stuck my neck out for you with this fake engagement thing. If this blows up, if there’s more dirty laundry from this tour and the partners find out you didn’t bring us in to quash it, I won’t be able to protect you from the fall out.”

Beckett crawled off the airbag, his knee sending lightning bolts of pain screaming up his thigh. Somewhere during the last song he’d stepped on a pile of confetti that had blown back onto the stage, his shoe sliding out from under him at an awkward ankle, wrenching the already inflamed joint. He limped out from under the stage rigging, following the rest of his bandmates, but he stopped short when he saw them all crowded around one of the PAs, a young guy with curly hair tied up in a man bun. Kat always greeted them when they came off stage, every night, no matter what. So why was a PA handing out their waters instead?

“Where’s Kat?” he asked, waving away the Fiji water he held out to him and pointing to the Smart Water still in the cooler.

“She had some things to take care of,” the PA said. “She’ll meet you on the bus. Catering brought in food for the green room, and Gideon will make sure you’re all on the bus by wheels up in ninety minutes.”

“I thought we were going to that rooftop grill tonight,” Zach said.

The PA’s face fell. “I don’t know anything about a rooftop grill. Kat said you’re leaving straight from the arena tonight.”

Beckett didn’t stay to listen to the rest. He pushed past his bandmates, limping down the hall towards the green room, already dialing Kat. The phone rang for far too long before she picked up. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

Her voice was calm, detached. “How was the show? Is your knee okay?”

“Fuck my knee. Why aren’t you here?”

“I needed to take care of something. Jorge has it under control.”

“You’re supposed to be here.” He pushed into the green room, ripping off his leather jacket and tossing it into the bin for wardrobe.

“I’ll see you when you get back to the bus.”

He leaned against the wall, taking some of the pressure off his knee. “Did I do something?”

“What? No.” It was the first time he’d heard emotion in her voice. “Please just… we’ll talk about it when you get back.”

“I’ll come now.”

“No. Becks, I need to finish this, and you need to let Doug look at your knee.”

“My knee is—”

“I swear to God, Beckett Hayes, if you tell me your knee is fine, I’m going to—”

“What exactly are you going to do to me, Luna?” He lowered himself into one of the armchairs, wincing as he bent his knee.

“Let Doug look at your knee. Take your time with the guys. Catering brought in all this food.”

“Why is that? Thought we were going out tonight.”

She sounded so tired, so far away. “We’ll talk later.”

The line went dead as the rest of the guys pushed through the green room doors, already shedding pieces of wardrobe as they went. Jackson went right to the mini fridge, frowning at the open door. “What happened to all the vodka?” he asked.

“Maybe we drank it all.” Zach reached around Jackson, pulling out two cans of ginger ale and tossing one to Logan.

Jackson frowned but took a can of orange soda from the fridge before grabbing his guitar and settling onto the couch with it. Nico stripped down to his boxer briefs and socks, throwing his clothing into the wardrobe bin. “Don’t eat all the sushi while I’m in the shower,” he called over his shoulder.

“Don’t use all the hot water and I’ll save you a California roll,” Zach shot back.

Logan sat on the ottoman next to Beckett, tilting his chin towards the phone still clutched in Beckett’s hand. “Everything alright with Kat?”

Beckett shoved the phone back in his pocket, frowning. “Yeah. All good.”