Page 84 of First Verse

I close my gaping mouth. “Really? You’re really okay with coming?”

He gives me a dry look. “Am I excited to face your dad? Not even a little bit. But I don’t want to keep our relationship a secret anymore. Not from your parents or the public. And if we don’t do it now, I’m not sure when we’ll be able to. The album drops in two weeks and we announce the tour two weeks after that. Our team thinks we’ll sell out fast and they’re already prepared to add dates on both ends. We could be on the road as early as the third week of May.”

My ears ring. He might be gone before my birthday. “That’s like… five weeks from now.”

“I know. And we might be gone eight months.” He cracks a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “This probably wasn’t the best time to start a relationship, was it?”

Eight months.

I have only myself to blame for the shock I’m feeling. I’ve purposely avoided thinking about how limited our time is before our careers pull us apart.

No more Sunday mornings. No more dreamless, deep sleep in his arms. No more forehead kisses or midnight whispers or watching him brush his teeth. Instead, he’ll be on the road and performing almost every night. Surrounded by fans. By drugs and alcohol. Women. At the thought, a particularly vivid memory from our first tour makes me flinch.

Wilder snatches my mug and puts it on the table, then claims my hands between his. His worried eyes study my face.

“Once our schedules for the next year are in place, we’ll find the time to see each other. There will be breaks on tour. I’ll fly home or fly you to me.” He swallows, fear brightening his eyes. “Tell me what’s going on in your head. Are you… is it too much? Are you regretting⁠—”

“No,” I gasp out, shaking my head quickly. “I’m sorry. I’m being stupid. You’re right. We’ll figure it out. The band and tour need to be your priority, anyway.”

I make to stand, to escape, but pressure on my hands holds me down. He scoots closer, lifting a palm to cup the side of my face. This close to him, my muscles can’t help but relax. My mind, however, continues storming, screaming as it spirals toward the ground.

“Eyes on me, Fairy.”

Unable to resist that deep, textured tone of command, my eyes immediately find his. The connection between us flares, obscuring the world.

“I love you,” he says with quiet intensity. “Yes, the band is a priority, but you’re equally important to me. I’m not who I was three years ago. I’m not interested in partying anymore, and the only woman I want is you. I’m yours, okay? Only yours. I know it’s going to be hard to trust me because of my past mistakes, but can you try? Can you let me prove I’m different now? That we’re different?”

My mental descent slows. Stops. The storm inside me disperses so suddenly I feel dizzy.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I trust you.”

One cloud reforms, a dark smudge at the corner of my mind, but I keep its contents to myself.

Please don’t break my heart.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

evangeline

This pressure on my bones

Reminds me of home

Where it was you and me

Together deep in the sea

Sealed by tides and seaweed dreams

But sometimes, oh sometimes

I missed the stars

Hours later, Wilder and I return to my house. Neither of us spoke on the drive home, and we remain mute as we walk inside and sit on opposite ends of my couch. Quiet vibrates around us as he stares at the dark television screen and I gaze through the sliding door at a sky now clogged with gray.

“It could have been worse, right?”

His effort to lighten the mood falls short, his voice more solemn than sarcastic.