Once we’ve handed our luggage over to Richard, our driver for the next six months, I grab Belle’s hand, eager as shit to finally introduce her to the rest of the band. The guys have all heard some parts of our story, although most of them don’t know half as much as Reggie. Honestly, his stamp of approval is the only one I really care about. The others are all players and won’t get that I’ve given that lifestyle up for one girl. At least I know they’ll be happy when I’m no longer a moody fucker at rehearsals like I was before our first show.

When we’re climbing the steps of the tour bus with the sounds of Motörhead blasting from the speakers over the crew’s laughter, I glance back at Belle to find her bottom lip caught between her teeth, eyes lit with worry. Something clearly shifted after our visit with Grandma Caroline, though I haven’t decided if it was actually in my favor. I know I shouldn’t be forcing her into making any more decisions and should probably lay off the talk of love since it obviously makes her uncomfortable. By the time this tour is over, I hope that will change.

The elegant bus was something I only had a small say in because Normie had already paid the deposit. I can’t get behind the idea of wasting money on shit that doesn’t matter in the end and can’t be considered a solid investment. It’s true we’ll be spending a lot of time in it, and I was glad he chose one with bigger bunks, but the luxury upgrade wasn’t necessary. The place already smells like dirty feet, and the guys have done their best to trash the place with empty bottles and crumbs from food on every surface. I grimace and make a mental note to have a talk with them later.

“There’s my girl!” Reggie cheers, launching forward to lift Belle into the air. She looks childlike in his arms as she makes a little squeaking noise. Most of all, she appears uncomfortable as hell.

I jab him in the ribs. “She’s my girl, fucker. Stop fondling her.” As he’s setting her back on her feet, I glare at the other guys sitting spread-eagle on the furniture. “And someone clean up this shithole. If you animals can’t control yourself on this tour, you can find your own ride. This isn’t Club Med.”

“Sure thing, boss-man,” Dillon answers smartly, lifting his middle finger in a salute.

Belle huffs beside me, arms crossed over her stomach. “Don’t even think about asking me to cook or clean up after you guys on this tour. Just because I have tits doesn’t mean I’m domestic.”

“Holy shit,” Rip says with a can of beer held to his lips. “I think I’m in love with this woman.”

Shooting him a warning glare, I sling my arm around Belle’s neck, drawing her tight against me. “Guys, this is my Belle. Anyone fucks with her, I’ll break your face. Are we clear?”

Rip chuckles, waving his hand in the air. “I’m Rip.”

Dillon raises his hand while looking down at his phone. “Dillon.”

“We met last night when I helped to escort you into the hotel, but you seemed a little too preoccupied to notice,” Luke says with a deep laugh. “I’m Luke. We’re going to get to know each other real well, sweetheart. I’ve been commissioned as your personal bodyguard on this tour. Once the fans figure out you’re with Roman, I’ll become the shadow you never knew you needed.”

Normie appears from the back end of the bus, his expression flat lining with the sight of Belle. “And you’ve already met my friendly manager,” I say to her as I pin him down with a warning stare. “Over the next six months he’ll become your new best friend. Isn’t that right, Normie?”

The prick shakes his head dismissively before approaching Dillon and Rip on the couch, wagging his finger in their direction. “I better not smell any pot on this goddamned bus. Smoke that shit outside if you have to.”

“Ten-four, captain,” Dillon replies.

Normie storms past Belle and me toward the exit, bumping into her along the way. “We’re rolling out in twenty minutes.”

“You got it, bestie,” Belle replies smartly.

With a chuckle, I press a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll have another talk with him.”

“Don’t bother,” she mutters.

“You drink beer?” Reggie asks her as he starts for the stainless steel fridge.

Belle nods. “I’ll drink anything with alcohol.”

Reggie flips the top off two bottles and hands them to us. “Welcome to the shit-show, darlin’.” He clinks his drink against Belle’s and she laughs before taking a sip.

“It won’t be anything I haven’t seen before,” she says as she’s drawing the bottle away from her lips. “I’m in a band with two guys who have no problem wearing the same clothes to rehearsal several days in a row.”

“No shit?” Rip sits tall, taking too much interest in her story. “You sing? Play guitar?”

“Lead vocalist.” She takes a swig of her beer. “I don’t officially play an instrument, but I’ve been dabbling with the piano and I know my way around a guitar.”

“No shit?” I ask this time, looking down on her with surprise. “When did you learn to play?”

“Chaz once taught me the basic chords on an acoustic. I’ve just kind of played around with it since then. Same with the piano—one of my students showed me a few things and I’ve learned a handful of songs from messing around.”

My teeth grind together with the mention of that Chaz guy. Exactly how close are they? She was worried he wouldn’t like her meeting up with me the night I found her again at Vinnie’s. What did he say about her leaving on this tour? I half expect him to show up any minute to demand that she stays.

“Just wait until you hear the lungs on this woman,” I tell the guys. “She could teach Maria Brink a thing or two.”

Rip’s eyebrows shoot up to his dark hairline. “No shit?”

“No, he’s actually full of shit.” Belle pushes on my chest, rolling her eyes. “It’s blasphemy to talk about my girl that way. I’d totally kiss the ground Maria walks on if I ever met her.”

“Whatever you say.” I tip my head to the back of the bus. “Go ahead, I’ll give you a tour of the place.”

As we squeeze past the guys, Rip reaches out to slap Belle’s hand. “At least someone’s getting lucky on this fuckin’ thing.”

I playfully whack him alongside the head. “And it’ll stay that way. Number one rule on this tour, no groupies on the bus. You assholes need to find somewhere else to take that shit after shows.”

Eyes narrowed, he huffs. “Who died and put you in charge?”

It was meant as more harmless banter, but for some goddamned reason it makes me think of my old man. My head’s in a dark place as I catch up to Belle. She’s pulling aside one of the curtains to peer inside a bunk.

“Holy shit. We’re expected to fit in one of these together?”

Laughing, I slip past her before turning to drag her along to the far back. “No way. Only the best for my girl.”

Originally we had planned on switching the master bedroom out for a week at a time. It never was my favorite plan to begin with, knowing by the end of the tour there’d be dozens of STDs crawling around on the mattress. After inviting Belle, I claimed it for the entire trip and ended up paying the other guys off so I wouldn’t have to listen to them bitch and moan. I almost promised to hook them up on our nights off.

“Now this is first class luxury.” She lowers down to stretch across the queen mattress, staring up at the mirrored ceiling. I wet my lips, instantly aroused by the sight. “They really thought of everything a rockstar might need.”

I crawl in next to her, staring back at our reflection. It’s the first time I’ve seen us together since we’ve been reunited, and I’ll be damned if we don’t make a hot as hell couple. Her lips part when our eyes meet and her chest rises with slow, uneven breaths.

“If you’re having second thoughts, I get it,” I tell her, reaching out to link my fingers with hers. “It would suck, but I’m starting to worry I forced you into doing this before you were ready. I don’t want you resenting me because your heart isn’t in it.”

“You didn’t force me into anything. A week ago I would’ve laughed if someone told me I was doing this with you, but…I had to see if we could make it work. I owe you that.” Her eyes drift away from mine. “I owe it to my fucking heart, too.”

“Belle.” I squeeze her hand, willing her to look at me. “Who gave you that scar?”

Her eyes rapidly blink back at me through the mirror, fighting back tears. “What’s with you always wanting to pick at old wounds?”

“I want you to feel safe with me. I want you to feel like you can share whatever burdens you’ve been holding onto all this time. This seems to be an issue that goes way back, and I want to help you work through it. When someone has your heart but theirs is hurting, it’s a pain you both endure.”

Her lips flatten with a sudden scowl. “Forgive me for not having memorized all your songs by now, but are you quoting your fucking lyrics to me right now?”

“No, but I wrote that line after the summer I told you that I loved you. It’s written on the first page of the journal you once gave me.”

“Oh god, Roman, I’m sorry. I do feel safe with you, I swear.” While letting out a drawn-out breath, she reaches out to stroke my jaw and closes her eyes. “But sometimes the truth is better left unsaid.”

Not knowing what else to say to her or how to lessen her pain, I pull her into my arms. I’m still holding her as the bus pulls out of the parking lot several minutes later, kicking off the beginning of our new life together. I sure as hell hope whatever this truth of hers is that she won’t talk about doesn’t ruin everything.

* * *

Someone pounds on the door while I’m still half asleep. The bus is no longer moving beneath us. Belle sleeps soundly in my arms, still naked from our middle of the night lovemaking. A thin stretch of sunlight falls on the mattress, highlighting the scar on her beautiful face.

More knocking.

“Go the fuck away!” I grumble. “We’re sleeping in here!”

“Sorry, man, but I promise you’re going to want to come out here for this,” Reggie’s muffled voice insists.

Belle stretches with a purr, pressing her sweet little ass into my highly interested dick. Whatever Reggie needs better be really fucking good, because I’m ready for a repeat performance.

Huffing and swearing under my breath, I press a series of gentle kisses to Belle’s face. “Good morning, baby. I have some business to attend to. I’ll be right back.”

After throwing on the jeans and shirt from the night before and raking my fingers through my bed-head, I slip out into the hallway. “You have shit for timing,” I tell Reggie, folding my arms over my chest.

“Brooke is here,” he whispers urgently. “She’s freaking out.”

Fuck.

I strain to look past him through one of the windows, trying to confirm we’re on schedule and in Philadelphia. Nothing good can come out of Brooke making an appearance, especially if she came way the hell down here. “What the hell does she want?”

“She’s having a shit fit because you wouldn’t let her back stage in New York. I figured you’d want to try to calm her the hell down before Belle hears her screaming.”

I growl to myself, glancing back at the door. Why the hell didn’t I tell Belle the truth when she asked me about Brooke? Maybe because you’re embarrassed you had anything to do with her and you were scared Belle would change her mind about coming on this tour.

“Do me a favor and stay put in case Belle needs something,” I tell Reggie. “Try to keep her back here until I can get Brooke to leave.”

“Ten-four.” He chuckles as I push past him.

The other bunks are empty, and so’s the rest of the bus. A ball of lead drops to my gut when I catch sight through a window of Luke standing with Brooke on the blacktop, the JFK stadium looming behind them. She’s throwing her hands into the air, the pitch of her raised voice rattling against the windows.

I sprint to the steps and burst outside, stomping toward Brooke. She sets her hands on her hips, scowling in tight jeans and a low-cut shirt that barely covers her tits. Her blonde hair hangs over her shoulders in perfect ringlets. After spending the past couple of days with Belle, I’m all at once reminded of how cruel Brooke was when we were kids, and I want her gone.

“You good here?” Luke asks, raising one eyebrow. I throw a dismissive wave in Luke’s direction and he shuffles back to the bus.

“The fuck you doing here?” I demand, glaring at Brooke. “I told you it’s over!”

“I’m sorry. Was it supposed to be ‘over’ before or after you stuck your dick inside me for the hundredth time?” she hisses, closing the distance between us. One of her manicured fingers pokes at my chest. “What is your deal, Roman? Why did you blacklist me from coming backstage?”

“Because we’re done, and I know how you can get. I have a girlfriend now.”

“A girlfriend? I figured there was just a misunderstanding with your security. You’ve been acting like a psycho. What’s your deal?” Her ugly scowl turns upward with a hopeful smile as her fingers skim over my stomach. “Need a little pick-me-up to start your day?”

“Hell no. I’m done with that shit.” I remove her hand and nudge her back to put more distance between us. “I have a girlfriend as in I’m with someone now. You remember Isabelle Martin? From camp?”

She responds with a loud, bright cackle. When I clench my jaw, the laughter dies on her lips. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

“No. I’m not.”

I swear I can see the color drain from her face. “You must be. We can’t both be thinking about the same homely girl who was too poor for camp so you stole money from your dad and got the shit beat out of you before you were sent to military school, because that would be ridiculous. There’s no way you would choose a pathetic loser like that over me.”

Every part of me wants to defend my girl, but I only shake my head. Anything I say to this woman would only be a waste of breath.

“Why do you hate Belle so much? I appreciate what you did for me that time I was in the hospital, but I’ve always loved her. You were a good friend for a while, then you became a distraction—a way to deal with my shitty feelings.”

For a moment I think she’s going to cry, then her eyes slide away from mine and her expression draws slack. “Just to be clear, we did fuck repeatedly for years, and you thoroughly enjoyed yourself. When you realize you’re making a mistake with that skank from camp, you can find me in the audience tonight, waiting.” Her lips twist with a wicked grin before she spins around, sauntering back toward a shiny black Mercedes.

Goosebumps break out on the back of my neck, spiking their way down my spine. Who the hell was she smiling at? As I’m turning around, my stomach threatens to heave.

I feel Belle’s cold glare down to my bones.

My heart tries to beat its way out of my chest as I start for her. “Babe, let me explain!”

With a shake of her head, she retreats up the bus steps. I run after her, chasing her through the bus to the bedroom in back. Before she’s able to slam the door in my face, I jam my foot in the opening and push my way inside.

“You lied to me!” she cries as she’s collecting her things off the floor and stuffing them into her suitcase. “I can tolerate a lot of bullshit, but flat out lying isn’t one of them! I don’t know how you could possibly justify sticking your dick in that bitch—”

“Because she was there when you weren’t!” I yell, feeling the veins in my neck strain with anger. “After I left you in Vegas, my old man beat the living shit out of me in New York! I almost died, Belle! Brooke was the only one there to pick up what was left of me because you wouldn’t answer my fucking calls!”

She spins around to face me, her lips parted with a sharp gasp. Though it wasn’t my intention to tell her what happened, I admit I feel a little satisfaction with the flash of hurt in her expression. It was one of the darkest times of my life, and she wasn’t there when I needed her the most. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’ll always resent her a little for shutting me out.

“I was in a coma for a full week while my brain injuries healed. The fucker hit me over the head with a bottle of whiskey. He told my mom and the cops that I was jumped while at a house party in the Bronx and they were dumb enough to believe him.”

Belle wraps her arms tightly around her waist as a tear slips down her cheek. “Why? What set him off?” The words come out in a reluctant whisper, like she doesn’t really want to know the answer.

“He found out from my grandma that I was accepted to Juilliard. I’ve never understood why he didn’t want me to have a career in music, but maybe there’s nothing to understand. He’s a drunk and he thought my mom and I didn’t appreciate everything he’s done for us. Ever since their divorce, he’s been bitter at the whole fucking world. Sometimes I think maybe he just doesn’t want anyone to be happy since he isn’t. He’s certifiable…obsessed. He told me that if I didn’t stop with the ‘music bullshit’, he’d make sure I served time in prison for stealing from him. And he was livid that I had been out to see you. When I told him that we were in love and I planned to spend the rest of my life with you, he threatened to hurt you—said you were a bad influence. That’s why I dropped out of Juilliard. I couldn’t stand the thought of him doing something to you.”

More tears spill down Belle’s face and she visibly starts trembling. “Oh…my god…Roman…I’m so sorry…”

“I’m not. I’d die for you, Belle.” I step forward to wipe her face with my thumb, and then I collect her in my arms.

“What happened after you healed?” she whispers against my chest.

“I never went back to the academy in Texas—my advisor would’ve known and my old man would’ve gone to jail. Once they let me out of the hospital, I became a fucking prisoner. He only let me out of my room for school and sports, cut me off from the web, and took my phone away. I was so miserable without you that I wanted to die. I even dreamed up different ways to kill myself, but I was too much of a coward to follow through with anything. Brooke may be a lot of things, and I fucking hate her for treating you like shit when we were kids, but she was the only person I was allowed to talk to up through graduation. I was lonely, and hurt, so I guess one thing led to another—”

“Okay I get it!” Belle blurts, wrapping her arm around my waist. Her entire body shakes as she sobs. “I’ll never forgive myself for not picking up the phone when you called! I should’ve been there!”

Squeezing her tightly, I let out a sigh and kiss the top of her head. I’ll never forgive myself for leaving her in Vegas. When will we ever find peace with our history of hurting each other?