The next day, I woke up late. I hadn’t even fallen asleep until well after dawn, again. I’d been up all night after the Vegas show, unable to sleep, but I still hadn’t fully processed everything that had happened.

Everything I’d done wrong.

All I knew was I’d hurt Zane in a profound way.

I’d spoken briefly with Alec and Brody before the show yesterday, but mercifully no one brought up my marriage to Zane or the whole ugly incident the other night. Brody wasn’t going to let it go; I knew he wasn’t. But for the time being, he looked like he felt too sorry for me to say anything.

It was early afternoon when I climbed onto the Lady Bus. Most of the buses had already hit the road to Salt Lake City, but some of us took our time rallying out of Vegas. Luckily there was no big hurry, and no one was complaining.

As I quickly discovered, the news about the little drama the other night had spread—especially after last night’s show, when Jude’s crew cleared out all the booze backstage and security was extra tight—and everyone was concerned.

The girls on the Lady Bus all seemed relieved that Zane had resurfaced from the desert sober and unscathed, but they knew this was serious; they were all waiting for me in the lounge.

Talia gave me a hug. “Is he okay?” she asked me. Joanie and Sophie were waiting for the answer to that question, too.

We’d all witnessed his performance at last night’s show. He was great; his voice sounded great. But he was definitely tense. There was a ton of tension at the show, and no one was exactly smiling backstage.

The whole crew felt it.

Zane’s alcohol addiction was no secret to anyone on Dirty’s crew, and obviously everyone cared about his continued sobriety. They either cared because they truly cared about Zane, and/or because they were scared they’d be out a job if the tour fell apart.

“Yeah,” I said. “He’s okay. But there are gonna be some changes. We’re having a band meeting tonight, and I’ll have some things to go over with you.”

“Of course,” Talia said. “Anything I can do to help…”

“Let me know if I can help, too,” Joanie offered. “I honestly don’t know how Zane does it, being around booze all the time, and the rest of the band drinking. Seth, too. If there’s anything we can do to make it a more supportive environment for both of them, I’d be happy to help any way I can. I know Elle will, too.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Sophie agreed. “Zane is so sweet. I feel so bad for him.”

That made me pause and smile. I didn’t often hear a woman describe Zane Traynor as sweet. But Sophie was pretty sweet herself.

“I didn’t get much sleep the last couple nights, so I’m just gonna rest for a bit,” I informed them. “We’ll talk later,” I told Talia, before disappearing into my bunk.

I put on some music in my earbuds and lay down. I’d barely been up for two hours, but the day felt long.

Maybe because I kinda felt like I’d been run over by a very large truck the other night, and I still hadn’t recovered.

I’d been so fucking worried about Zane.

I’d never been more relieved than when he walked into Brody’s hotel room… just to see him in one piece. I was mad, too, but so relieved to find out he’d been with Seth in the desert. That he didn’t drink or do something else stupid.

Like fall into the arms of some random woman.

It kinda stunned me, actually, because when he’d walked out of my hotel room after I told him I can’t do this with you and Love isn’t enough, the look on his face… It was kinda like he was in shock. Like he definitely didn’t want to hear what he’d just heard. Like he needed to find somewhere to sit down—somewhere far away from me—and lean on something for a while.

Like maybe a case of booze.

If I’d ever truly and deeply feared that Zane might pick up a bottle, that moment was it.

I’d asked him to sit back down, because honest to God I thought he might pass out or something. He was in a weird kind of daze… kinda like what happened before he went onstage sometimes. Like this private, mini panic attack, where he disappeared inside himself and went blank.

It scared the shit out of me.

When he didn’t stop, when he left the room despite my protests, I decided it would be better to let him go, give him space.

But then Jude called me looking for him. He told me Brody was flying out to talk to me and Zane, and I quickly discovered that no one could find him… and I panicked.

For the next few hours, I ran through every horrendous possibility in my head.

He was fucking someone else.

He was drinking.

He’d been arrested.

He was injured.

Each scenario just got worse and worse, until I actually feared, when he didn’t answer his phone the umpteenth time I called, that he might be dead.

That all our bullshit had pushed him to drink, and now he was gone.

Forever.

When he came back, and I hugged him in Brody’s hotel room and I felt his warmth, smelled his familiar smell and felt his heart beating against my chest, so strong… I didn’t want to let go. I never wanted to let him go again.

But I knew—that wasn’t up to me anymore.

I wanted a drink.

Hearing Zane say those words… it crushed me.

Because of me, because I’d hurt him, he could’ve gone on a bender that ended in some horrendous tragedy… A tragedy that might’ve been avoided if I’d stopped fighting him. If I’d just let myself love him.

But he didn’t drink. Instead he came back and told us what happened.

Which meant that whatever Zane and I were going through, together or apart, I knew it wasn’t up to me anymore to decide if and when it was okay for me to get close to him again.

It was up to Zane.

* * *

That night in Salt Lake City, we had our band meeting in the hotel, in Brody’s room. No one was in the room except the members of Dirty and me, Brody, Jude and Shady.

Brody filled everyone in on the situation, and he pulled no punches. The fact that Zane had almost drank in Vegas. That he was giving himself one chance to continue with the tour and stay sober while he did it.

That he wasn’t smoking weed anymore.

That it was the responsibility of every person in this room to support him.

He informed them all that Talia would be handling Zane’s personal schedule. That Zane would be spending his time at the gym and AA meetings in favor of parties and bars, and that until further notice there would be no booze and no drugs of any kind backstage.

He also informed them that yes, Zane and I were married, legally, but that we currently weren’t together, and beyond that, it was the business of absolutely no one but Zane and I.

Brody did all the talking, so Zane and I wouldn’t have to. When he was done, he asked, “Any questions?”

There were no questions at all. We’d all been through this before—at least, the addiction part—and we all knew how serious it was. And one thing I knew for sure: every person in this room cared more about Zane than about the tour.

“I have something to say,” Zane said, turning to Matt. “I owe you an apology for flipping my shit on you. Maggie said you weren’t doing anything out of line. Just hard for me to see it that way. I get kinda bent out of shape about it, you know, since she’s my wife.”

Everyone was silent. It probably wasn’t lost on anyone that Zane had just described me as his wife. Again.

And there was definitely a little bite in his tone. Kinda like an apology-slash-laying-of-claim.

I felt Elle’s eyes on me.

“I didn’t know, man,” Matt said.

“No one knew,” I offered, trying to let Matt off the hook. Maybe some people knew, but it wasn’t Matt’s fault he didn’t.

Matt glanced at me, then looked at Zane again. “I’m not gonna lie,” he added, cautiously, “and pretend my intentions were entirely honorable. But it won’t happen again.”

Zane’s eyes narrowed as he considered that. Then he said, “Then we don’t have a problem.”

There was nothing else to discuss, at least not in a group setting, so the meeting broke. I was relieved to see Matt walk up to Zane and the two of them have a hug. By the looks of things, everyone else was headed in Zane’s direction to do the same.

I headed for the door, but Elle caught up to me. For a pregnant woman, she moved pretty quick.

“Are you alright, Maggie?” she asked me, her steel-gray eyes full of concern. She smoothed a hand over her belly and studied me.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m alright.”

“If you want to talk…”

“I don’t want to talk right now. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” she said. “Of course it’s okay. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

“I do,” I said. Then I thanked her and slipped out.

* * *

I was standing backstage at the Salt Lake City show two nights later. It was only the second concert Zane would play without smoking up in God-knew-how-long.

And I was nervous for him.

I was with him and the rest of the band in a dressing room, and he didn’t look particularly nervous. He was talking with Jesse and Seth, joking around and semi-arguing about the changes they’d made to the set list, and I just watched him.

At every show on this tour, for a few minutes before the band went onstage, they’d had this alone time. Only the band, Jude and me were welcome in the room, and of course Brody, if he was in town.

Everyone else had to wait outside while Dirty got ready to take the stage together.

I didn’t always join into these informal little meetings, but when I did, I didn’t say much. I just stood back and kept out of the way in case I was needed.

Which was exactly what I did tonight.

Usually, Jesse busted out the bourbon and everyone except Zane and Seth did a shot right before showtime. I was pretty sure Jesse still did his pre-show shot with Katie, but he kept it on the down-low; there was definitely no booze in this room.

When it was time to hit the stage, we all headed out, Jude in the lead and me in back. But just before he went onstage, Zane reached back and caught my hand.

We were standing at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the stage, and while the rest of the band headed up, he gave me a hug. But he didn’t say anything.

Then he ran up there and did his thing.

I watched him perform from backstage with Katie. He looked gorgeous, as usual, with his hair all white-blond under the lights and sweat running down his face, a little smudge of black eyeliner that made his blue eyes pop. His arms looked chiseled in his sleeveless Danzig T-shirt, his shoulders broad. He was wearing charcoal-black leather pants; Zane didn’t often wear leather pants, but when he did… as he ran around the stage, they clung to him in a way that made me bite my tongue.

He was incredible tonight, and listening to him sing had my heart racing. Especially when he sang, “I’ll Go,” which they’d just added to the set list.

My heart always raced when Zane sang. But this time, my respect for him was exploding, too.

He hadn’t broken when I feared he would.

And I realized, as I watched him out there, rocking the place down—clean and sober—that I’d never actually believed he’d be able to give up pot. I’d doubted his ability to do that in every way.

To be fair, I’d never seen him totally give up pot before.

But I’d definitely never believed that he could or that he would.

The truth was, I never believed he actually wanted to.

Now, I was seeing him in a whole new light…

It had only been a few days. But Zane had stopped smoking pot, on his own, because he wanted to.

Just like that.

I was afraid it wouldn’t stick.

I was afraid he’d change his mind or fall apart or just plain fail.

But I was hopeful, too.

For the first time in… ever, I actually had hope that Zane might stay clean.

And what that could mean for us…? I wasn’t even sure I could go there yet.

But yes. It gave me hope.

It gave me even more hope, in a weird way, when at the same time he’d stopped smoking pot, he’d also stopped trying to get in my pants.

It wasn’t like he’d lost his mojo or anything.

That much was clear.

As I watched him out on that stage, he was still just as sexy as he’d ever been. And all the women out there, screaming for him? They clearly agreed with me.

Zane Traynor was as hot as ever.

Hotter.

Was that possible…?

Was it possible that I was even more attracted to him when he wasn’t coming on to me all the time?

I’d been through something like this with Zane once before, seven years ago. After I’d first come to work with Dirty and he first got sober. But even then, when he came back from rehab and was working through his recovery, he never stopped trying to get in my pants.

Never.

And he never really stopped smoking up.

This time, he hadn’t even tried to touch me or flirt with me. Not since the shit hit the fan in Vegas.

But he didn’t seem angry, either. He wasn’t acting distant or cold or mean.

He was definitely a little moody. He seemed anxious, twitchy and restless offstage. And he seemed anxious around me, for sure.

I knew it was to be expected. I’d talked to Seth a bit about marijuana withdrawal, what he knew about it, and I’d read up on it a bit.

Offstage, Zane was showing most of the signs that could be expected of someone who’d just stopped smoking, cold-turkey.

But he also seemed happy. I’d never thought of Zane as an unhappy person, until I saw him so happy right now, onstage… Though maybe happy wasn’t even the right word?

Awake, maybe.

Focused.

Present.

He seemed fully present, and it was amazing to be around.

He was vibrant up on that stage. And when he came off, he was glowing. He seemed calm, and not because a fat joint was waiting to help him get there.

His blue eyes met mine, and he walked over to me. He pulled me in for a steaming hug; he was literally dripping with sweat. His clothes were soaked. He smelled like himself times a hundred, pheromones and sex god mixed with the musk of sweat.

I hugged him back.

And before I could tell him You were amazing out there tonight, he said in my ear, “You look so pretty, Maggie.” Then he released me and he was gone, headed off to his dressing room with Shady… without even trying to grope me.

It was so entirely new and different.

And I liked it.

* * *

After the show in Salt Lake, the Hell & Back tour continued to roll smoothly along.

Night after night, Zane was incredible onstage. The whole band was incredible, and the way everyone pulled together to support Zane… it almost brought me to tears. I got choked up sometimes, just watching Dirty perform.

But I kept the tears to myself.

“Somewhere” had been released as the second single off the To Hell & Back album, and had quickly joined the “To Hell & Back” single at the top of the charts. The video for “Somewhere” was gorgeous, moving, and deceptively simple—like the song itself—featuring the members of Dirty playing the song out in the desert.

Concert footage would be filmed at our two upcoming shows in Chicago for the “Blackout” video, which would be the next single.

Things were going so well with this album and tour so far, actually, that it was exceeding all our wildest dreams. Brody and I were hopeful that this album, overall, would be Dirty’s second most successful album of all time in terms of sales and the charts; second only to Love Struck, Dirty’s debut.

And we were on track to pull it off. The tenth-anniversary angle and the strength of the songwriting that Seth and Jessa Mayes had brought back to the band were proving a major win with the fans and the industry at large.

I felt hopeful about the future, in a way I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in a long time.

Hopeful for Dirty.

Hopeful for myself and for Zane.

We still weren’t together. But my feelings for him hadn’t changed. By now, I knew how I felt about Zane.

I wasn’t even gonna try to kid myself about it anymore.

I wasn’t with anyone else, had never even wanted to be with anyone else since I married him, so I had no intention of being with anyone else now.

And I knew he wasn’t with anyone else, either.

The girls were still all over him; they always would be. And who could blame them? Everywhere Zane went, Shady was constantly having to peel them off.

But he wasn’t messing around—with me or anyone else.

I knew this because Talia had pretty tight tabs on him, considering she was managing his schedule. She was doing an incredible job, researching every city we were playing in advance to find AA meetings and convenient gyms for his workouts, and even picking up healthy snacks for him. She’d consult with me and I’d help organize his day, making it easy for him and Shady to navigate where they needed to be and have proper meal breaks and down time.

Zane spent a lot of time with Shady, actually, and not just because he had to. The two of them had grown really close.

It was nice to see.

Shady was in his forties and seemed to be playing the role of a laid-back older brother in Zane’s life. A brother who made him laugh, watched his back, and genuinely cared about him.

I loved Shady for that.

And I loved Jude for hiring him.

Zane spent a lot of time with Jude, too, and Seth. He also spent more time with Jesse, and one of the incredible side effects of Zane giving up pot? Jesse Mayes found him far more tolerable a companion than he did when he was getting stoned all the time. Who knew?

Jesse and Zane were now hanging out together like I hadn’t seen them do in years… maybe since before Jesse hooked up with Elle and tensions in the band started running high.

Dylan had become Zane’s workout buddy, and instead of lazing in bed with Amber all morning, our drummer was getting up and hitting the gym with Zane. Dylan usually worked out in the afternoon; he liked to work out before he went onstage, because he was an animal like that. But he’d changed that up to fit Zane’s schedule.

As for Elle, she was coming around a lot, checking on Zane, just sitting with him and talking.

That actually did make me cry, once. Seeing him like that—spending time with a female friend he wasn’t trying to fuck, just talking about her pregnancy and whatever else she wanted to talk about.

Katie did her part, too. She baked Zane cookies.

When Dirty played Minneapolis, Katie and Jesse stayed with a friend of Jesse’s, and Katie used their kitchen to make Zane a bunch of healthy cookies with seeds and nuts and dried fruit in them. Rock god power cookies, she called them. Apparently she made them for Jesse at home, because he wouldn’t eat all the sweet stuff she baked.

They were delicious.

Really, it was incredible to me how the whole Dirty family was pitching in to support Zane, in ways I never would’ve expected.

The sense of love and care was overwhelming.

Sophie, who was younger than Zane, had seemed to take him under her wing like some doting aunt. She drank virgin Caesars with him in the mornings before he hit the gym, and soon became his unofficial hair stylist. The girl could sell merch like nobody’s business, but she definitely had some serious talent with hair; hers was always in some fabulous 1940s-era updo. She’d even managed to convince Zane to let her style his fauxhawk into a victory roll for a photo shoot.

Actually looked really cool.

Then she shaved a little heart into the short hair behind his ear, and Jesse informed him that Sophie was turning him into a pussy. I disagreed. The heart was cute. And of all the guys in the band, Zane was the only one who’d ever even tried to pull off eyeliner or nail polish, and he’d succeeded. When you were as badass as Zane Traynor was, even makeup didn’t change that. Heart or no, Zane was still badass.

Losing weed definitely hadn’t made him lose his cool.

Far from it.

I saw him before and after every show, and I watched him sticking with the program, adhering to the schedule and the regime Brody and Talia and I had laid out for him. Staying away from the bars and the parties and the fans.

Staying away from weed.

And I knew it couldn’t be easy. I knew he’d had some physical side effects, too; stomach pains and insomnia. Cravings, obviously.

Brody had a couple of doctors check in with Zane on the road, so his withdrawal was being properly monitored. The doctors had actually recommended a more gradual detox, but Zane had insisted on sticking with the cold-turkey thing.

And he was succeeding.

I would’ve known if he’d gotten high; Talia and I usually had an eye on him, and I would’ve seen it in his eyes. I would’ve smelled it. I would’ve felt it, and I would’ve known by the change in his moods.

He definitely wasn’t getting high, and it was stunning how quickly I could see the changes in him.

Without smoking up pretty much daily, like he’d been doing for so many years, he was more clearheaded. He was sharper and, as the peak of his withdrawal symptoms faded, he was way more even-keeled.

He was definitely more reasonable.

And he wasn’t as moody.

But instead of dulling his edge, it made him shine.

He smiled easily, and it wasn’t a sly, calculating smile. He wasn’t laying on the charm. He wasn’t trying to charm anyone. He was just smiling.

He laughed more, too.

But when he was close to me… he remained kind of reserved, if not anxious. His smiles were more tentative. He put his hands in his pockets and used few words, and usually moved on pretty quick. He didn’t seem to be avoiding me, exactly. But he definitely wasn’t lingering in my vicinity.

That was new.

I didn’t love it, but I wasn’t about to complain. I wasn’t going to put any kind of pressure on Zane right now, about anything.

So I let him set the tone and the direction and the duration of each conversation, each interaction.

And at the end of each night, when he gave me a quick hug and took off, I accepted it.

For fifteen nights in a row.

Yes, I counted.

On the sixteenth night, when he tried to let me go, I tightened my arms around him.

We were standing in a restaurant near our hotel after dinner, while Jesse and Dylan took care of the bill. “Wait,” I whispered. And after a moment, he softened and continued the hug. He was wearing a leather jacket, and he smelled of leather and winter and Zane.

Eventually, I let him go. He stood about a foot away from me with his hands buried in his pockets. “Good night, Maggie.”

“You’re going back to your room?” I asked him.

“Yeah.”

It was late. We’d had a late dinner, and I knew a lot of our group was heading out for drinks after this. I wasn’t sure what Madison, Wisconsin had to offer in terms of night life, especially on a frigid February night, mid-week. But whatever there was to find out there, Dirty would find it.

I could’ve gone with them, but all I wanted to do was hang with Zane.

Talk to him.

Touch him.

Shit, but I wanted to touch him.

“Do you, uh, want me to come with you?” I offered. It was the most awkward come-on in the history of women trying to get some. At least, that’s how it felt to me. I didn’t exactly have a lot of experience with trying to seduce Zane Traynor.

Usually he handled the seducing.

He just stared at me for a long moment, his jaw going kinda slack, like I’d stunned him or something.

“Maggie, uh… I don’t think—” He was cut off right there by Jesse, who chose that exact moment to toss his arm around Zane and start telling him how proud he was of him for staying the sober course and all that.

Obviously he was drunk, because Jesse only got verbal about his love for Zane after a few.

I’d never hated Jesse Mayes more.

Actually, I’d never hated Jesse at all. But right now?

I gave him an incredibly dirty look, which he didn’t even notice.

As I turned to walk away, Zane caught my hand. “See you tomorrow,” he said, his eyes on mine. Jesse’s arm was still slung around his shoulders as Zane leaned in to give me a kiss on the cheek.

Jesse went right on talking to Zane as I walked away.

“Your husband’s a pussyblock,” I grumbled at Katie as I made my way past her out of the restaurant.

“Oh, shit,” she said, her eyes going wide.

What else could she say?

She knew about Zane and I being married; by now, everyone in the Dirty family did. But we hadn’t talked about it. She’d tried; I’d shut it down. Told her I wasn’t ready to talk yet.

I wasn’t sure if she was more stunned by the fact that I was trying to get in Zane’s pants or by the fact that her husband had pussyblocked me.

“Have fun tonight,” I told her. Then I left her to get drunk and laid with her hot husband.

I disappeared back to the hotel alone, before anyone could guilt-trip me for not coming out with them.

About ten minutes later, Zane texted me.

Zane: sorry, Maggie

Zane: you surprised me

Zane: but we shouldn’t be having sex

I didn’t even know what to say to that, so I didn’t reply.

I’d told myself to let him call the shots. I just had to be patient.

Eventually, when he was ready, he’d want to be with me again… right?