“Dude! Get up!”

Linc’s fist bangs against my bunk, and my eyes spring open. The bus is no longer moving. Harsh light streams through the tinted windows at the end of the hall. I squint as I take in the empty bunk across from mine.

She’s already gone.

I sit up, banging my head against the roof of the bus. “Fuck.”

Lincoln chuckles.

I glower. “What time is it?”

“Just after nine.”

“When did we get here?”

“About two hours ago.”

I hop off my bunk. “And you didn’t wake me because…”

“Because I don’t know how to wake the dead.” He shrugs. “You looked exhausted. Full-on zombie-mode. We figured we’d let you sleep. What’s the big deal?”

My eyes cut to her empty bunk again.

“Ah.” Recognition jolts into him. “Felicity is the big deal.”

My jaw clenches.

“Don’t grimace at me.” He smirks. “She’s with Carly. They already checked into the hotel. We’ve got sweet rooms overlooking the whole strip.”

I couldn’t give less of a shit about the hotel. My only priority right now is finding her and making sure she’s holding up all right, after everything that went down with her mother.

Last night, when I stepped out of the building, I knew instantly who the drugged-out woman clawing at Felicity had to be. I’ve never moved so fast in my life, getting to her side. And I’ve never seen that look on Felicity’s face before — so small and defenseless and subdued. Standing there like a child as her mother said all manner of horrible things.

Ungrateful whore.

Common thief.

You’re not special.

Who would ever love you?

I could’ve strangled that woman with my bare hands, but doing so in front of the swarming paparazzi probably would’ve gotten me arrested again.

God, it’s no wonder Felicity keeps her walls so high. Her family makes mine look like a fucking picnic.

I’ll take your alcoholic, anger-prone father and raise you one drugged-out, physically abusive mother.

Yanking on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, I run my hands through my sleep-mussed hair, shove a pair of sunglasses on my face, and sling my bag over one shoulder.

“Where’s Aiden?” I ask, finally ready.

“Waiting outside. Figured we’d drag you to breakfast with us.”

I smirk. “Afraid if you two went alone, everyone would assume you were on a date?”

Linc grins wide. “Please. He should be so lucky.”

We both laugh as we step through the bus doors into the bright sunshine. It’s nine in the morning, but Vegas is swelteringly hot. The pavement around us steams as we cut across the parking lot to the veranda outside our hotel, where Aiden is smoking a cigarette in a narrow slice of shade. Linden and York are hovering a dozen feet away, our ever-silent shadows, keeping watch as tourists mill about the entrance. I duck my head, hoping to go undetected for as long as possible.

“Took you long enough,” Aiden says when he spots us, stubbing out his cigarette with one heel. “What were you doing in there, primping?”

“Just making myself pretty for you.” I bat my lashes at him.

He shoves my arm. “Come on. I’m starving. There’s a restaurant out by the pool.”

“Bacon with a bikini view.” Linc grins. “I like the way you think, my friend.”

As we step into the air-conditioned lobby, I pass off my bag to a waiting bellhop, pressing a crisp twenty in his palm before he scurries away. The hotel is opulent and overdone — decorated in rich reds and gleaming gold hues, frescoes painted on every ceiling. We pass a gaudy decorative fountain filled with Roman emperors of old, then wind our way through row after row of slot machines used to lure fresh arrivals into the adjacent casino before they’ve even checked in.

This place is a zoo, and we’re the damn animals.

By the time we find the restaurant, nearly an hour has gone by and we’re all ravenous. A hostess shows us to a table in the shade, overlooking the sprawling series of aqua lagoons and waterfalls below. Calling this place a pool is like calling Niagara Falls a stream — the sheer scope of it is hard to take in all at once. Bevies of beautiful women flock in clusters, holding mimosas in their hands as they stroll the perimeter, weaving between imported palm trees and tacky faux-talian columns. They remind me of the tropical birds outside Grayson’s treehouse in Oahu, chirping and preening as they attempt to lure in potential mates.

Lincoln unleashes a shameless growl as a blonde in a sarong saunters by on the pool deck below.

“Did you see the tits on—”

A rough throat clears, cutting off Linc’s crude assessment. We all look over to see our waiter has arrived.

“What can I get you?” he asks flatly, looking like he’d rather be just about anywhere else on the planet than here serving us.

“Let’s pop a bottle, shall we?” Linc asks, looking hopeful.

“It’s ten in the morning,” Aiden points out.

“And that’s a problem because…?”

Aiden just shakes his head.

“Ry? How ‘bout you?”

“I don’t drink,” I remind him absently, scanning my menu for food options as my stomach growls.

“Yeah, I know. I figured you’d loosen the reins, now that we’re out on the road.” Linc sighs. “Isn’t the point of going on tour to finally live like a star?”

“Actually, the point of a tour is the music.” Aiden’s voice drops to a serious tone. “You want to live the party lifestyle, you might as well go back to playing with Lacey.”

Linc hisses at the thought. “Christ, you two are buzz-kills.”

The waiter clears his throat again, with far less patience.

“We’ll take a round of orange juice,” I tell him. “And I’ll get the southwestern omelette. Extra hash browns and a side of bacon.”

“I’ll have the same,” Linc says. “But please, for the love of god, dump a half-bottle of champagne into my juice. Someone around here needs to commemorate this godforsaken moment.”

I shake my head at his melodramatics. Aiden orders blueberry pancakes, the waiter disappears to assist his other tables, and we plunge into uneasy silence.

“So, is this what it’s gonna be like, from now on?” Lincoln sounds like he’s in one of his moods — I sense a tantrum coming on. The look Aiden shoots me from across the table suggests his thoughts are on a similar plane.

Great.

I grit my teeth. “What are you talking about, Linc?”

“You! The two wet-blankets I used to call friends.”

“Wet blankets? Because we won’t start drinking during breakfast?” My brow furrows. “You’re unbelievable.”

“No! No.” Linc blows out a breath. “It’s not about the drinking. I don’t give a shit if you party or not. You want to stay sober, that’s your prerogative, man.”

“Then what the fuck is this about?”

His words turn fervent. “This is something we always dreamed of doing, isn’t it? Since we were, what, eighteen-year-old kids playing dives in Nashville? Life on the road! The tour buses, the hotels… a new city every week, a new girl every night… The three of us taking on the world together.” The light in his eyes dims a shade. “That was the dream. We got so close last time, so fucking close… and then it all fell apart.”

“Linc—”

“No, Ryder. You don’t understand what it was like when you went into rehab, then disappeared on your surfing spirit-quest. Aiden knows, because he was right there with me, elbow deep in the shit.” His nostrils flare. “Over a year of working as a damn waiter between gigs, before we finally landed that spot playing for Lacey, of all people. And playing is a generous term for what we did. That crap wasn’t music.”

“I get it,” I murmur. “Linc, I really do. Trust me, the past two years weren’t exactly a walk in the park for me either.”

“I know that.” His throat works as he swallows hard. “But that’s why I want us to enjoy this. We have to seize this moment, because they don’t come around all that often. And if Felicity walks away after this tour, like she claims… it’s also the only moment we’re gonna get. The only time we’ll ever be Wildwood.” His voice drops to an uncharacteristically serious tone. “Every second is limited. Forgive me for being a fucking sap, but I just… I want to do it right. Okay? I want to enjoy it before it slips away.”

Aiden sighs deeply. “Linc, it’s only our second day.”

“Exactly. This should be the fun part, before we’re run down and sleep-deprived. We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves. Instead you’re both sulking.”

“I’m not sulking.” Aiden’s voice is gruffer than his expression.

“Oh, please. You’ve been sulking since Carly stepped foot in California.”

Aiden grunts and looks out at the pool.

“And you.” Linc turns his eyes on me. “I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, but you and Felicity need to sort our your shit before it implodes.”

My spin stiffens. “Felicity and I are just fine.”

“Oh, really? ‘Cause last I saw, you two aren’t even friends, let alone back together. How long do you think that’s going to work, huh?”

“Stay out of it, Linc,” I warn lowly.

“I’d love to, but this affects us all — if you two don’t find some common ground, fast, things are going to fall apart before we make it halfway through this tour.”

“Did you have a problem with our performance last night?” I growl. “Because I’m pretty certain it was the best damn show we’ve ever played.”

“That may be true. But only because you were running on pure anger the whole time you sang. Once that rage runs its course… once the fire between you burns out… what’s left? What’s keeping your music grounded? What’s giving you the emotional drive to convince the crowds you’re a cohesive act? What’s keeping the two of you together at all, besides a signature on a contract?”

His words hit me harder than anticipated.

What’s keeping us together?

It used to be late night lyric sessions, writing under the stars with crappy guitars. It used to be bare limbs in the moonlight, our gasps and moans making melodies in the air that needed no accompaniment. It used to be a hell of a lot of things that are no longer relevant.

What’s left to hold on to?

The silence drags on as I consider his words. Even Aiden looks worried as he stares across the table at me.

“Figure it out,” Linc says softly, eyes on mine. “Make it right with her. Bury the hatchet, before we’re all up shit’s creek without a paddle.”

We’re waiting for the check when we spot them walk into the pool area, dressed in torturously tiny string bikinis. Carly’s wearing red, Felicity yellow. My eyes drag along her body inch by inch, taking in the sight of all that pale, porcelain skin under the scorching sun overhead. It’s bad enough she’s nearly naked. When I see her dark hair is pulled back in a thick braid, I lose it altogether. I’m instantly hard, flooded by memories.

My fingers sinking into silky depths in a dark alley outside a bar, my self-restraint unraveling with every strand that falls free around her face.

My hand wrapped around that braid, holding it like a leash as I drive into her from behind with relentless thrusts.

My name on her lips, her cries the most beautiful symphony I’ve ever heard.

Fuck.

I shift in my seat, but it’s no use. My erection is harder than steel, and it’s not going anywhere on its own. Every day I spent without her, living like a celibate monk in Hawaii, was torture. But these past few weeks have been a whole new kind of hell. I am a walking case of blue-balls, hornier than a high school freshman, set off by her most innocent actions.

The way she gnaws her bottom lip when she’s nervous.

The way she walks, hips swinging with natural grace.

The unexpected laugh that bubbles up from her throat.

The grip of her fine-boned hand on the microphone shaft.

Two years is far too long to go without tasting her, without touching her skin or claiming her mouth or hearing her scream my name.

“You should see the looks on your faces, right now.” Linc laughs like he’s having the best day of his life.

I look up and see Aiden wearing a tortured expression that mirrors my own, his eyes on the blonde in the red bikini currently applying lotion to Felicity’s back.

“So…” Linc’s brows waggle. “Anyone fancy a swim?”