The friend zone was an actual place. I knew it, because I lived there. With Tori in an adjacent room.

Four weeks into the tour and we had our routine down pat. She worked from the suite while I did band shit during the day. The problem was, the nature of festival tours dictated that I only had actual commitments three days a week. The other four days I was on my own.

Normally, that meant hanging with my boys, partying, and as much pussy as I could fuck. But there was nothing normal about my life since Tori crashed into it.

I spent all my free time with her. We ate our meals together in the suite. Watched movies. Worked on songs. And every night, I took her through her stretching routine. I’d added a back massage. For therapeutic reasons, of course. It had nothing to do with the noises she made when I rubbed the knots out of her muscles. Or the way her skin warmed me through the thin T-shirts she insisted on wearing, even though I’d explained the medicinal benefits of massage oil applied directly to the dermis. I thought using the proper terminology might get Tori on board with the whole shirtless plan.

It didn’t.

And that was probably for the best. It’s not like I needed the extra stimulation. As it was, whenever we finished our sessions, I ended up in the shower, fucking my fist with thoughts of her in my head. And like a damned addict, as soon as I shot my release, I vowed to put a stop to it.

But then the next morning, I’d find Tori with her mussed up hair, sitting in front of the window overlooking whatever city we happened to be in, and I’d cave.

Because, truth was, I liked having her around. Liked. Friends. Friend zone. Fuck.

This week we were in Chicago. After two back-to-back record-breaking shows, things were heating up outside our tour bubble, which existed on an alternate plane. It’s like the real world only pushed in the two days prior to our gigs when we did press events.

I was eating breakfast downstairs in the private dining room the hotel had set up for the bands when Elise shoved a paper into my hands.

“There’s been some changes to the schedule,” she said, distracted.

After giving the document a dismissive glance, I returned my attention to my breakfast. “I’m a little busy.” I spooned some brown sugar onto my oatmeal. “Just tell me where I need to be.”

Elise’s lip pulled back into something resembling a sneer. Entitled douchebag, may as well have been flashing on her forehead. As I’d predicted, she’d turned into a decent coordinator. Tough. Organized. And she didn’t take shit from anyone.

When it was obvious I wasn’t going to budge, she chuffed out a breath and flipped through her paperwork.

“Radio interview at WKRV,” she said. “The van is picking y’all up in front in a half hour. Then cocktails and a light dinner with the VIPs that bought the platinum circle tickets. That’s right here, in the private dining room, at five.”

The platinum circle VIPs spent three grand a pop on their tickets. In addition to the show, they got the privilege of joining one of the bands for cocktails or a meal. It was a huge publicity opportunity.

Without waiting for an acknowledgement, Elise spun on her heel and headed for the buffet line. I stared at the paper for a couple of minutes and then I followed.

“I thought Leveraged was doing the honors with the VIPs?”

Elise perused the items at the omelet station. “Not this time. Tori changed it.”

While she placed her order with the chef, I glanced around the room, and my gaze collided with Dylan’s. Seated at a back table, deep in conversation with Beckett, a ghost of a smile curved his lips. It wasn’t warm. Or inviting. Still, I mumbled a goodbye to Elise and wandered over.

Beckett was out of his chair before I got there, headed for the door. I expected Dylan to follow, but he just crossed his arms over his chest like he was waiting for me.

“Hey, man,” I said, dropping into the seat across from him. “Haven’t seen you much lately.”

He poked his tongue in his cheek, as if he were amused. “I’ve been around.”

Stretching my legs, I slung an arm over the back of my chair. “Mighty kind of y’all to let us take over the VIP thing tonight.”

Dylan’s lips parted, but then his gaze shifted over my shoulder. There was no mistaking the warmth in his smile or who it was for. When I glanced behind me to confirm, Tori was there, frozen in her spot a few feet from the table.

“Hey, Lo,” she said before slowly swinging her attention to Dylan. “You ready?”

Dylan was already on his feet, smiling down at me. “Have fun with the VIPs.”

The knot in my throat precluded anything but a nod. I couldn’t even return Tori’s wave as the asshole ushered her to the door.

Sinking back in the chair, I pulled the phone out of my pocket when I felt the vibration against my leg.

The Metro Music logo flashed on the screen. Mac. Or maybe it was a member of his team. My thumb shifted from the red button to the green.

“Hello.”

A rumbling laugh set my teeth on edge. “Logan … how’s the windy city treating you?”

I twisted toward the door where Tori and Dylan had disappeared. “Awesome. What do you want, Mac?”

“I want to give you a chance to reconsider my offer. Before it’s too late.”

“I’m on tour, in case you haven’t heard. And besides, I’m not leaving my band. I already told you that.”

He clucked his tongue, and I could picture his beady, black eyes. “There’s always another band. It’s you that’s not replaceable.”

“Nice try, but I ain’t interested.” From across the room, I made eye contact with Elise. She tapped her wrist, and I hauled to my feet. “I better not find out it’s you planting shit in the press.”

Despite the record breaking crowds, Mac’s lawsuit cast a dark shadow over the tour. We were constantly dodging questions from the media about the bogus stories his team planted.

“You should be thanking me. There’s no such thing as bad publicity.”

Jaw torqued tight, I ducked around a few clusters of people in the lobby. Hot air rolled over me as I passed through the automatic doors and into the summer morning.

“I gotta go.”

Ending the call before he could reply, I pocketed my phone.

Sean gave me the side-eye as I slid into the seat beside him.

“You’re looking rough,” he noted.

“I need to get laid.” Sean made a big production of putting a couple of extra feet between us. I laughed. “You’re pretty and all, but I wouldn’t want to ruin our lifelong friendship. You know I never stick around after I get it in.”

The truth spilled out unbidden, and Sean made a face, either from the bad joke or the truth behind it.

Turning my attention to the window so he wouldn’t see my smile fade, I said, “Lucky for me we’re having supper with a room full of women that I’ll never have to see again.”

Trapped between Dylan and Beckett on the couch in Dylan’s suite, I stared at the screen on my laptop while Trevor explained the latest avalanche of legal paperwork from Metro.

In the corner of the screen, Taryn alternated between chewing her fingernails and batting Chase’s hand away when he tried to stop her.

When Trevor finished spinning his tale of doom, he roughed a hand through his hair and said, “Given what just came to light, it might be time to start looking at settlement options.”

Dylan, Chase, and Beckett all spoke at once while Taryn just stared into the camera. At me. It was my fight. I always knew it. But Mac had just brought it to my door.

“Hold on,” I said, my voice razor thin and barely audible over the chaos. But Taryn heard it.

“Everyone, shut up!” she screeched, and it was like someone pressed the mute button. “Belle, what did you want to say?”

I cleared my throat, but the tears were still there. When I tried again, Dylan’s hand found mine and Beckett wrapped an arm around my shoulder. But they couldn’t protect me from this.

“Let me understand,” I began in a shaky voice. “The masters to the unfinished Damaged album are Metro’s property? And Mac can do what he wants with them?”

Trevor shook his head. “The masters are in Mac’s possession. He’s asserting that they’re his. That Metro holds the distribution rights. That doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“But they’re Rhenn’s songs,” Dylan growled.

“Technically, they belong to the group,” Trevor responded calmly. “At least that’s how I’m going to spin it.”

“Spin?” Taryn interjected, indignant. “They do belong to the group. And therefore, they belong to Tori.”

“Well according to this,” Trevor held up a piece of paper. “Miles Cooper has standing as well. Are you aware of what this is, Tori?”

I recognized the document I’d signed all those years ago giving Miles a stake in the Damaged catalogue. “Yes.”

Trevor sighed. “Then Metro’s right, Miles has a claim.”

Taryn started to speak, but Dylan beat her to the punch. “What does Miles need to do to … I don’t know …”

When he struggled to find the words, Trevor took the reins again.

“He can sign a document relinquishing his rights. That’s not a problem. But Mac is going to offer him a shit ton of money to make sure he doesn’t. I’ll set up a meeting with him and find out where he stands.”

Dylan and Beckett looked at each other, and as if by some silent agreement, Beckett said, “Don’t do that. We’re his friends. We’ll talk to him. ”

Once, we were. But that was before. The only friends Miles had now were his pills and his booze.

Your fault, the voice in my head admonished. And as always, I listened. Because it was true.

Shifting my attention to Trevor, I asked, “How long until we have to file an answer?”

“A month from Friday,” he replied, tossing his pen on his desk. “We still have some time.”

“All right,” I said, slumping back in my chair. “I don’t want to talk settlement yet. Let Dylan and Beckett talk to Miles. I’ll fly home before we head to Europe, and we’ll discuss it more then.”

Trevor raised a brow. “You’re still going to Europe?”

Of course I knew what that look was about. But I hadn’t even spoken to Logan about the online classes or modifying his plea agreement.

I shrugged noncommittally. “Yeah.”

Dylan’s heavy gaze swung my way, and Taryn didn’t miss the exchange either.

Before they started up with the questions, I sat up straight and addressed my attorney. “Is there anything else? Because I’ve really got to get back to work.”