There’s a hierarchy at rock festivals. The more popular the band, the later their time slot. Bands just starting out played early in the morning on the outer stages in front of small crowds. As the day progressed, the more experienced groups got their shot. The audiences were bigger. Livelier. But still, they were merely a warm-up. A down-ticket band.

That’s where Caged usually fit in.

But not today.

Today, and for the rest of the tour, we were one of the four headliners. That being said, the other three bands were substantially more popular. Which meant Caged would take the main stage first, and we’d never get to play under the stars. But that was all right. We’d made it. It didn’t really sink in until we arrived at the venue.

“Jesus Christ,” said Sean, jamming me in the ribs with his elbow when our caravan of SUVs rolled to a stop. “Are you seeing this?”

Looking up from my phone, I peered out the window at the sea of people. Forty thousand, if the estimates were correct.

My heart rate spiked. “Yeah.”

I didn’t have time to ponder our good fortune, or how we’d landed here, on the shiny side of the coin. Because the door swung open, and out we went, single file, straight into the tunnel created by the small army of security guards. Usually, we’d stop to sign autographs, chat up the fans. But it was too risky with this many people.

Keeping our heads down, we stayed in formation until we got to a group of tents behind the barricades. And then, as if by magic, the curtain of muscle surrounding us dispersed, and there was nothing but blue sky, thick fluffy clouds, and bright sunshine.

Cameron twisted to peek at the stages in the distance. “This is intense.”

Swept into the large tent where our preshow press conference was about to begin, we were greeted by a petite brunette holding a clipboard. Elise Donnelly, assistant PR director at Twin Souls. She looked way out of her element, all wide eyes, with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

“We’re going to begin in a half hour,” she said as she led us to the long, elevated table in the front. “Have a seat and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

Dumbstruck, we did as we were told. It was only after I dropped into a chair between Sean and Cameron that I fully took in my surroundings. Reporters congregated next to the refreshments, eating finger foods from small plates while they chatted each other up. The journalists from Rolling Stone, Alternative Nation, and the larger news outlets stayed to themselves, avoiding the bloggers and tabloid press.

After a moment, Christian tipped forward and swatted my arm. “Where’s your babysitter? Shouldn’t she be here?”

Tori. I hadn’t thought about her since we’d left the hotel. When I’d poked my head inside her room this morning, she was already gone.

“No clue,” I said, scanning the knots of people for raven hair.

Cameron chuckled. “She’s probably heading back to Austin.”

Whipping my head around, I searched his face. “Why? What have you heard?”

The smile fell from his lips. “Nothing. I was just kidding. Unless …” His eyes narrowed to slits. “Did you do something to run her off?”

Despite my apprehension at the thought of Tori leaving, I forced out a laugh. “I wish. The princess isn’t going anywhere.”

If I can help it.

Even more shocking than the wayward thought was the conviction behind it.

Cameron abandoned our stare off, and I followed his gaze to a roadie holding the tent flap aside to admit a group of fangirls. “Shit,” he muttered. “We should talk to someone about that. It’s not like we need any preshow entertainment.”

“Speak for yourself,” I shot back, my automatic response drawing a collective groan from my bandmates.

But as I looked the girls over, from their pretty faces to their scantily clad bodies, I couldn’t muster up one dirty thought. I was too distracted by what Cameron had said about Tori.

Elise appeared out of nowhere and dropped a piece of paper in front of us. “Here are your talking points.”

Since nobody else volunteered, Christian slid the document in front of him.

As casual as you please, I leaned in, snagging Elise’s attention. “Where’s your boss, darlin’?”

She cocked her head. “Taryn’s in Austin.”

“Your other boss.”

“Oh … you mean Tori?” Flushing pink when I nodded, she chewed the corner of her already pulverized lip. “Um … she’s around. Have you tried texting her? On second thought, she probably wouldn’t hear her phone. It’s pretty crazy out there.”

Out there.

It took a second to digest that tidbit.

Tori was out there, not tucked behind the railings and surrounded by security. I pictured the cowboy at the truck stop yesterday, then my mind jumped to the next possible conclusion and I was on my feet.

Panicked, Elise scrambled to block my path. “Where are you going?”

Cameron shot out of his seat, dragging her out of the way before I mowed her down. “Dude, what’s up?” he asked.

It took every bit of my self-control, but I kept it light. “I’ve got to piss. I don’t really think it’ll take all three of us.” I smiled down at Elise. “But you can come along if you want.”

Her mouth twisted, and she wrinkled her nose.

“He didn’t mean that,” Cameron mumbled.

But the look I gave Elise was convincing enough, because she couldn’t scoot out of the way quick enough. Shrugging, I tossed her a wink and headed for the door. Once I was outside, I picked up the pace, all my attention focused on the horde of people beyond the barricades.

“Logan?”

Tori’s voice rose above the din. Above the music. Above the chaos. And my own thundering heart. Relief swallowed me whole. And anger. That was there too. So I went with it, embracing the familiar. Because she deserved it, every single harsh word about what could happen to her, alone, out there.

But when I spun around, the sentiment caught in my throat. Because Tori wasn’t alone. Dylan Boothe was with her.

Rooted to my spot as they strolled up, I glanced from Tori’s tiny T-shirt, to the holes in her jeans, to the unlaced Doc Martens on her feet. The boots were scuffed, well-worn and out of fashion. Wrong in all the right ways. Just like her.

Dylan held his fist up for a bump. “Hey, man. Good to see you.”

“You too,” I lied, my gaze fixed on Tori. In the natural light, her eyes were more honey than amber, and laden with a different anxiety than the day before.

But why the hell was she anxious at all?

“What are you doing out here?” she asked, full lips curving into a smile. “Isn’t the press conference about to start?”

If her tone were any indication, this was more of a personal inquiry.

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah, I was just …”

Looking for you. Thank fuck I left that part out because Dylan let out a laugh.

“I know what you were doing,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “Let me help you out.” Smiling, he offered me a stack of VIP Passes. Not the fancy, laminated jobs we gave to family and close friends. These were made of paper. Disposable. Meant to be given to the girls who hung out by the buses or in the rope lines. “I don’t need these. But I know you’ll put them to good use.”

His implication was clear; I was a dog, chasing anything that moved. And he was above it. Yeah, no. Dylan and I were cut from the same cloth. The only difference? I gave zero fucks about what people thought. Except maybe the woman at his side.

Tori quickly looked away.

Well, fuck.

Shaking my head, I took the passes, smiling at Dylan like I didn’t know how to repay him. Except that I did. “Appreciate you looking out for me, bud.” Freeing one of the cards from the stack, I tucked it in the front pocket of his T-shirt. “Better hang on to at least one, though. We both know you’ll be looking for it later.”

Dylan’s eyes locked onto mine, the silver consuming the gray. “I said I was good.”

And just to prove how very good he was, the asshole slipped an arm around Tori’s shoulder. I didn’t fail to notice her flinch. It could’ve been surprise. Or maybe she saw right through Dylan’s bullshit.

While I was contemplating the best way to break every one of his fingers, Elise walked up and joined our awkward trio. “Hey, y’all.” A nervous smile played on her lips. “Sorry to interrupt. But I need to steal Logan. The press conference is about to begin.”

“Guess that’s my cue,” I said, and as I took a step back, my eyes shot to Dylan’s hand, still resting on Tori’s shoulder. “You coming, princess?”

The question came out of left field, and I hated the silence that followed.

“You go ahead,” Tori finally said. “I’ll see you later.”

When she turned her attention to the crowd, Elise took that to mean the matter was settled. Looping her arm through mine, she tugged me in the opposite direction, rambling a mile a minute.

“Rolling Stone and Alternative Nation are in the first row on the right. Bloggers are in the second row. And refer all questions about Mac or the lawsuit with Metro to me.”

My stomach flipped. “Why would they be asking us about Mac?”

She kept her mouth shut until we were inside the tent, then turned to me with a serious expression. “Don’t you read your emails?” She rolled her eyes. “Of course you don’t.”

She’d hit a soft spot without knowing it, severing my already frayed nerves. “Well, you see, darlin’, I’ve been a little busy preparing for a tour. Maybe you can fill me in, since you’re the coordinator and Twin Souls is taking fifteen percent of my earnings.”

Two spots of crimson stained Elise’s cheeks. “Of course … I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply …”

She looked down at her toes, and I kicked myself for being a dick. The girl was still finding her way. In a month or so, she’d be able to spar with the best of us. Or she’d throw in the towel and head home.

“That came out wrong,” I said, roughing a hand through my hair. “Can you just tell me what the email said so I don’t have to go digging around?”

Bringing her gaze back to mine, Elise forced a tight-lipped smile. “Mac is leaking stories to the media. He claims he’s in negotiations with one of the headliners and they’re about to jump ship. It’s all bullshit. But I just wanted y’all to be prepared in case someone asks.”

The knot in my stomach worked its way north. Mac had to be talking about me. That fucker.

When Elise cleared her throat, I realized I’d let my mind wander.

“We really need to start,” she said. “We’re cutting it close to show time.”

“Right behind you.”

“That was one long piss,” Sean joked when I reclaimed my seat. “Do we need to call a doctor?”

“Keep it up and you will,” I warned.

“Enough,” Cameron hissed through his smile. “Let’s just do this.”

Since it was up to me to get the party started, I adjusted the microphone, and when Elise gave me the nod, the usual controlled chaos ensued.

Disregarding protocol, I skipped right over the reporters from Rolling Stone and Alternative Nation in favor of a blonde in a mini skirt in the second row.

Cameron’s knee collided with mine under the table. “What are you doing?” he whispered, irritation etching his tone.

Honestly, I had no clue. Except that everything felt out of my control. So I’d take my victories where I could get them.

Smiling at the blogger, I drawled, “Take it away, darlin’. I’m all yours.”

“Princess?” Dylan scoffed, glaring at Logan’s retreating back. “What the fuck is that about?”

Unwilling to have this conversation out in the open, I spun on my heel and headed for the barricade.

“Belle.” Dylan’s tone took on an edge that he rarely used with me. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

I didn’t want to tell him shit. But I found myself rounding on him. “Stop! Just … stop.”

I couldn’t look at him. Not here, with the music and the fans and the stage looming. Everything about Dylan reminded me of who I once was. And I hadn’t counted on that. The visceral feeling of nostalgia that accompanied my every move since we’d arrived at the venue.

My gaze wandered to the media tent. To Logan. For some reason, when he was around my thoughts were my own, and not shaped by everyone else’s expectations.

Dylan took me by the shoulders. “Jesus, Belle. You’re scaring me.”

I lifted my gaze, and it was there, the fear and the unease and the disquiet, painted on his features.

“Why?”

His brows drew together. “Why what?”

Why do you want me?

Neither of us was ready for that question. “Why do you worry so much? I’m fine.”

Rather than take my little reminder as the happy news that it was, his jaw tightened. “If you’re so fine, then why did you ride with Logan and not on the bus?”

I hadn’t told Dylan about my freak-out, but I’m sure he suspected. Only there was a little doubt in his eyes, and I held onto that so I could do what I needed to do. For both of us.

Summoning my strength, I inhaled slowly. “Because he asked me to.”

The lie passed quietly from my lips. And it worked, like I knew it would.

Dylan’s hands fell away. “I need sleep,” he said thickly. “Are you coming back to the bus?”

He didn’t look at me, and that was for the best.

Wrapping my arms around my middle, I held myself together so my guts wouldn’t fall at his feet. “I’m going to catch the tail end of the press conference and then watch the Caged show.”

Dylan’s eyes found mine, cold like slate. And then, for the first time in six years, he walked away without saying goodbye.

Jack, the security guard standing post in front of the makeshift dressing room gave me the eye when I ventured out. I didn’t catch the end of the press conference like I’d intended, and I’d missed most of Caged’s opening number. But now it was time to stop hiding.

Blowing out a breath, I swiped a hand over the wrinkles on my T-shirt.

“Do you want me to call you a car, ma’am?” Jack asked.

Ma’am? I was twenty-nine years old. Too young to be a “ma’am.”

Maybe it was the clothes. They were at least ten years old. And the stupid boots. Nobody wore Docs anymore.

Slowly, I brought my eyes to his and forced my lips to bend. “No. I want to see the show.”

Grimacing, he cast a nervous glance over his shoulder. “Yeah, sure. Let me just call it in.” His hand curled around the device strapped to his shoulder. A walkie talkie, small, like the kind my dad used to wear when he was on patrol. “I’ve got Raven. We’re headed for center stage.”

Raven.

The alias was straight out of my past. A relic from the days when I needed a security detail to move around anonymously. I saw Taryn’s hand in this, since she was the one who’d insisted that I have a bodyguard while at the venue.

Jack took my elbow, his hold firm, but surprisingly gentle. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Amused, I let him take the lead. The guy was a tank, so resistance was futile. “Nobody is here to see me, Jack,” I shouted over the music as we got closer to the stage. “You can relax.”

His eyes darted around, a deep crease furrowing his brow. “I’m not so sure about that.”

The roar of Logan’s vocals, the wailing guitars, and the thundering drums made it impossible to protest, so I merely shrugged as Jack maneuvered me up the set of wooden stairs behind the stage.

My breath caught as I peered out from behind the curtain. Earlier today, when I’d taken a walk around the grounds, the crowd was equally dispersed between the three smaller stages. But now, every one of the forty thousand in attendance was spread out before me. Mesmerized, I took it all in. The sea of bobbing heads. The outstretched arms. All the bodies swaying in time.

And Logan.

Prowling the stage, he roared into the microphone, completely at home amidst the chaos and confusion. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his arms and his face, his blond hair already a tangled mess.

When he turned in my direction, I glimpsed the word stamped across the front of his black T-shirt.

Damaged.

The letters were nearly translucent, blending into the dark fabric like a faded memory.

All of a sudden, I felt exposed, like a time traveler peering into a future that they weren’t part of.

A pretty brunette had Logan’s undivided attention now. And as the song wound down, he dropped into a crouch at the edge of the stage. The brunette reached for him, and he obliged, a wicked smile curving his lips as he touched her hand.

I knew what was coming next. Had seen it a million times.

Logan’s gaze flicked to the wings, searching for a roadie to offer the girl one of those passes that Dylan had turned over. I tried to blend in with the amps so he wouldn’t notice me. His blue orbs passed me by, and I sagged in relief, letting my head fall forward. But then a prickle of awareness danced on my skin, and when I looked up, Logan’s gaze was locked onto mine.

A genuine smile formed on my lips.

And Logan smiled too. Only it wasn’t at me. His focus had already drifted back to the brunette. He crooned the next number directly to her, a ballad with a hard driving beat, and before the song was over, a roadie had woven his way to the girl’s side. She took the pass he offered, and it was like an arrow to the chest. Only I couldn’t figure out why. Logan was nothing to me. We weren’t even friends.

I tugged on the sleeve of Jack’s T-shirt, and when he inclined his head, I spoke directly into his ear. “I’m ready to go whenever you are.”