Laying in one of the bunks across from the bathroom, Eric stared up at the coffin-like ceiling of the bed overhead. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to sleep in the bed since Keira left two days ago. After laying in the queen-sized bed, tossing and turning for hours on the first night, he gave up, grabbed his pillow and climbed into one of the bunks. The harder mattress, walls that seemed to be closing in on him and claustrophobic feel went along with his current mood, which was piss-poor.

Tomorrow night, he’d have his first show, since she’d left and dread made his skin crawl at the thought of getting up on stage in front of his fans and baring his soul. It didn’t give him the freeing, energized rush that usually came when he thought about getting up on stage. After almost a half-bottle of vodka, he’d given up trying to write his song about her. The rawness of her walking out ate at him and made him want to curl up in the bunk and sleep for a while.

His mom sent him about ten texts asking him to call her back, but he couldn’t even do that. She’d been wrong about Keira. She said how much she cared about him, if she cared, why had she left? He sent Keira text messages and left voicemails, but she hadn’t responded. The door of the bus banged open.

“Steve, can you get me another bottle of Jack?” he called out. Maybe Jack would provide more inspiration that vodka hadn’t provided. A bottle was thrust through the curtain that shrouded his bunk in darkness. He reached for it, the cold condensation of it rolling over his hand. When he grabbed it he touched a noticeably non-hairy hand. He sat up quickly, banging his head on the top of the bunk. Fuck, that hurt. He rubbed his hand on his head and whipped back the curtain, swinging his legs out of the bunk, wrong move as the room swam, but there was one highlight. Keira.

She stood across from the bunk. He glanced to the side and saw her suitcase sitting in the aisle of the bus.

“You’re back,” he whispered. She opened her mouth and snapped it shut. Her throat tensed and she started again.

“I came back,” she said, softly. “I’m sorry that I ran away. I’m sorry about everything. I shouldn’t have let what she said get to me, but it hurt me, Eric.” Her voice cracked as she wrapped her hands around her waist. She glanced up at him. “You hurt me. I thought that everything that you said you felt for me was all part of an act. Just for show and I couldn’t take knowing that,” she hesitated, peering down at her feet. “What I felt for you, you didn’t feel back for me.” Her gaze shot up and she looked at him with tears in her eyes.

“I told you how I felt about you, Keira. I told you how I felt, that I loved you and you walked out on me,” he said, standing still as a statue. He wanted nothing more than to wrap her up in his arms and pull her back into the bedroom and show her how much he missed her, but old pain resurfaced. She’d left him. Who’s to say she wouldn’t leave him again, when he was even deeper in love? How could he take that chance again?

“I know, I’m sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, but what happened brought back an old wound I’ve been trying to deal with and this just exposed it like a raw nerve.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Can we sit?” She gestured to the booth. He nodded and she pushed off the wall, sliding into the booth. He grabbed one of the chairs across from her.

“I was supposed to showcase my work at a gallery show last year. It was going to be my first big show,” she said, staring at her hands folded in front of her. The table shook as her leg bounced up and down under the table.

“Okay,” he said, encouraging her. “What happened?” He reached out and covered her folded hands with his. She peered up, a small smile on her face.

“I was presenting with my ex, he wasn’t my ex then, but you know what I mean. We’d both been selected and I was ecstatic. Then a week before the show we had a fight. A huge fight and he blew up at me.” His hands tightened on hers.

“He hit you?” he said, nearly shouting. Her head whipped up and she shook her head, eyes wide.

“No, never. Paulo may have been an asshole, but he wasn’t an abusive asshole. Anyway,” she said, letting out a sigh. “He told me the real reason I’d been selected for the show. He said he had them include me as a favor because we were dating.”

“I don’t believe that for one second,” he said, pulling her hands apart and threading his fingers through them.

“You don’t?”

“No, I’ve seen your work and while I’m not an art critic, anyone can see that you have talent. What happened next?” He squeezed her hand to encourage her to continue. She let out a deep breath.

“After I kicked him out?” she said, smiling.

“Yeah, after you kicked him out,” he chuckled.

“I called up the gallery and told them I was pulling all of my work from the show.”

“What? Why would you do that?”

“I didn’t want to be included in that show just because of who I was sleeping with. I didn’t want people to know that the only reason I was there was because of him,” she stared into his eyes and the vulnerability and insecurity shone through. He sighed. It all made sense now. Why she’d been so hesitant to get involved with him, why she’s been so worried about people knowing they were together.

“And you thought that the same thing was happening with you being on tour with me?” She nodded. “It had nothing to do with that. I knew you were amazing long before we ever started anything. Other than you puking on me,” he said, trying to pull a smile from her.

“I know, but I freaked out. When I was going through my email and voicemails from when we were with Uncharted, I found one from the gallery. Some of my stuff was still there and they’d had some offers. People somehow managed to get a look at what I’d made. I was shocked, so I called them up and they pretty much told me everything Paulo said was bullshit. I let him determine how I saw what I created. I let him influence me and lost out on a great opportunity. I don’t want to do that again,” she said, cupping his face in her hands. She gave him a gentle kiss on his lips and he pulled her onto his lap.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he whispered against her lips.

“I’m glad I’m back too,” she said, as he ran his hands up under her shirt. Moving into the bedroom, they both finally let their guard completely down and made love slowly. Their emotions gave them the kind of high they’d never reached before, even in their more explosive sessions.

Keira propped her head up on her elbow and watched him sleep. A small pang hit her. She’d promised not to leave him again, but would he want to be with her once he found out the secret she’d been hiding. She’d have to get in touch with his mom soon and make sure she told him and maybe she could help minimize the damage.