We were on fire tonight. The best we’d played in weeks, and I was crediting Catherine for it all. For the first time in a long time, my heart was filled with hope, and the constant rage that I felt on a daily basis had subsided. I could breathe, and it was bloody glorious.

Even if we hadn’t had any groundbreaking discussions and forgiveness wasn’t explicitly stated, the band and I seemed to have once again swept away our differences, and my tendency to be a total ass, to come together and give the people what they’d paid for - a rock show that they wouldn’t soon forget.

Doing our job and delivering felt amazing.

And yet, still, throughout the entire bliss-inducing show, I was still thinking about Catherine. The way Catherine’s eyes followed me across the room, the way she watched me move inside of her, the way she saw right through my bullshit and saw the light that even I believed had faded away to nothing. The way she leaned into my touch, the way she opened herself up for me, physically and emotionally, the way her laughter filled my soul with joy.

The way she devoured my cock like a starving woman.

The way she pulsed around me when I slid inside of her.

The way I couldn’t wait to get back to being naked with her in bed.

My plan tonight was to spend as little time as possible at the party at the Whiskey and get her right back to my place as fast as possible. And tomorrow, we actually had the day off. I was looking forward to sleeping in, waking up with Catherine, and enjoying a lazy day all alone with her, with nobody around, and nowhere to go.

We left the crowd begging for more, even after three encores. Any other time, I might have insisted on a fourth, but I wanted to get on with the night.

“Where’s Catherine?” I asked Rhone as we walked off stage.

“She went to the bathroom a while back, and didn’t come back yet,” she said. “I figured she needed some space or something. She’s probably in your dressing room.”

“Okay, I’ll find her,” I said. Of course, she was probably resting, I hadn’t really let her sleep too much.

“Great show!” Ian said, hugging me.

“Love you, bro,” I said, hugging him back. Talking wasn’t necessary. Apologies weren’t necessary. That’s just how we were, how we’d always been. Hot and cold.

“You driving to the Whiskey yourself?” he asked.

“You know how much I love my Jag,” I replied.

“Well, be careful of those fuckin’ paparazzi twats, they’re brutal in this town.”

“I can handle those cunts,” I replied. “I’m going to find Catherine and take a quick shower, I’ll meet you all there.”

Rocket and Rhys and Slade nodded and we went our separate ways. They’d all head over in the limo, but I always insisted on driving myself around when I was in LA. They knew better than to argue with me. Last time they’d tried to get me to do something I didn’t want to, it didn’t turn out so well.

I walked into the dressing room, my cock already hard with anticipation of laying my hands on Catherine.

“Luv?” I called, as I entered the empty room. I figured she had to be in the loo. I knocked and waited. Silence. I opened the door and saw she wasn’t there either.

I walked back into the hallway and ran into Ian and Rhone.

“Have you guys seen Catherine out here?” I asked.

“No, not at all,” Ian replied. “She’s not in your room?”

“No, she must have…gone somewhere. I don’t know.” I checked in Rocket’s room, Slade’s room and Rhys’ room, to no avail. I threw up my arms as I walked back up to Ian.

“She’s gone,” I said. “She probably just walked outside or something.”

I pulled out my phone and dialed Catherine’s number. No answer. I left her a message and hung up, then dialed Matt’s number.

“Where are you?” I asked, when he answered.

“In the production office. What’s up?” he asked.

“Have you seen Catherine?”

“She was watching the show with Rhone and then she walked back to the dressing rooms. I didn’t see her after that.”

“Fuck!” I exclaimed, hanging up the phone.

“Big D!” I called to him as he walked up. Surely, he knew something. That was his fuckin’ job. “Where’s Catherine?”

“I don’t know, boss, haven’t seen her.”

“What the fuck?” I asked, throwing up my hands. Ian and Rhone were standing next to me. “Should I be worried? I’m worried.”

“Liam, she probably left,” Ian suggested.

“Why would she leave?” I asked. I was completely bewildered at his suggestion. She wouldn’t have just left me without a word, would she?

“Why would she stay, Liam? You’re a bloody mess. She got her story. Her week is up. What did you expect?”

“No, Ian, she wouldn’t have just left. She’s going to the party with me tonight. We already talked about it.”

Ian and Rhone exchanged glances, and I knew exactly what they thought. That I’d fucked it all up, of course she would leave. But they hadn’t seen the look on her face, the love in her eyes, earlier today. They just didn’t understand.

But neither did I.

Where the fuck was she?