Later the next day, Belle sleeps in my arms as the bus heads for Ohio. She wanted to throw an afterparty in Philly, so we gathered the guys in our hotel suite a few miles down the road and didn’t kick them out until three in the morning. An endless supply of booze and groupies flowed freely throughout the night. Since I’m a stickler about being known as an obnoxious rock band, I made Rip and Dillon swear before the tour started that they’d act like civilized adults. For the most part they behaved, only warranting a couple warnings from hotel staff that we needed to keep the noise down.

A few of the guys from a well-known Brooklyn-based band that we opened for a couple years back stopped by later with their entourage. They couldn’t catch our show in New York because of other commitments, so they drove down to Philly. Belle and the lead singer’s wife hit it off right away and talked about shit like life on the road, what it’s like to be stalked on social media, and some clothing line. I also overheard the wife giving Belle advice on how to deal with groupies, but I didn’t really pay that much attention. I was too busy watching my girl from the corner of my eye, adoring the fuck out of the giant smile that never seemed to leave her lips.

After I pulled her on stage to introduce her to the crowd, she was glowing. I’m certain it won’t be long until she’s headlining her own tour, which means we’re going to have to work more shit out in addition to all the other crap life has dealt. We’ll have to take turns touring with our bands…or something. I sure as hell don’t plan on being apart from her for the entire length of a tour. At this point I don’t know how I could handle spending a mere fucking day apart. Every day we spend together I become more addicted to everything about her.

Once we roll up to the stadium in Columbus, I decide to give Belle a wakeup call she’ll never forget. She fell asleep naked after an hour-long session of love making, so I’m given easy access when I carefully draw her knees apart and bring my mouth down to lick her in one long, deep stroke. A little hum vibrates in her throat, but she doesn’t wake, so I do it again, this time doing it slower to savor her delightful flavor, and pushing the tip of my tongue in a little farther.

Fuck me. I love this woman’s pussy every bit as much as I love her powerful voice and willful spirit. The idea of making her my wife flickers to the forefront of my mind as I lick her once more. But a piece of paper and a set of rings wouldn’t even be necessary—I’ve already claimed her as mine for as long as we both live this messed up life.

Suddenly her fingers are in my hair and she’s humming. “This has to be a dream,” she says in a groggy voice. “There’s a gorgeous rockstar between my legs.”

When I chuckle, my tongue is buried inside her warmth and she releases a sharp gasp. So I do it again. And again. Then I add a finger into the mix, stroking her until she’s flexing her hips and pulling my hair by the roots and growling my name in a cute as hell noise that draws my balls extra tight. As she prepares to let out a cry, I feel her entire body tense up and I pounce on her, covering her mouth with mine. Her usually loud noises of ecstasy are transformed into a quiet whimper.

Her fingers wrap around my painfully hard cock as she’s coming down from her orgasm, as if holding onto it is the only thing keeping her grounded. Knowing how much she enjoys rough sex immediately after she’s climaxed, I quickly help her line things up until I’m buried blissfully deep. Then I pull out and slam into her hard enough that her head bobs off the pillow and she grips the sheet at her sides to stay on the bed.

It never fails to amaze me how perfectly we fit together and how every damn time feels just like that night I first made love to her at camp, only better. With other women it was about having a good time and doing what feels good, but with Belle it’s so much more. When we’re together, we create a melody better than any chart-topping song.

She whimpers, scratching her fingernails down my back. “Oh my God…baby.”

I thrust into her repeatedly until she’s panting and arching her back with another orgasm. Again I seal my mouth over hers as she hits her peak, although by now I’m sure everyone on the bus knows what we’re doing. I just can’t stop myself from tasting her when she’s so damn beautiful. And hearing her little noises is enough to catapult me over the edge, releasing into her with a dark, deep groan.

I roll off her to lay at her side and catch my breath. She props herself on an elbow and studies my face while tracing the line of my jaw with a finger. I’ve always considered her to be exceptionally hot even without makeup, but there’s something about the post-sex glow of her face in this moment that grabs me by the nut sack.

With tears in her eyes, her lips spread with a wide smile. “I love you, Roman Stone.”

I hold my breath, waiting for her to say something more, or maybe even take it back. Did I seriously just hear that? A lump forms in my throat, too fucking big to swallow down.

“I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember,” she continues with tears tumbling down her face. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner. It’s just…those words…”

“It’s okay. I always knew you did.” My grin fades as I brush the pad of my thumb over her scar. “What happened that made you too scared to say them?”

Her eyes momentarily close before she sucks in a deep breath. “On my ninth birthday, my parents invited a few of my friends from school and my aunt over for a little party. It wasn’t anything special since we were basically poor. My dad worked really long hours logging, and my mom was a librarian for the public school in town. It paid the mortgage and kept us fed, but there wasn’t money for much else. The morning of my party, I heard them arguing before everyone showed up. Dad said the little party would be enough, but my mom insisted that I needed a present to open. I felt kind of guilty, but I was excited about getting a present. I mean, what kid doesn’t like the idea of getting presents on their birthday? So they left…told me they’d be back in an hour.”

She stops to steady her breath, but I remain silent. I’m afraid if I interrupt, she won’t finish the story I’ve been waiting to hear since her sixteenth birthday.

“The state trooper told my aunt that they were clipped by a semi while going around a corner. My dad swerved, sending the car over the cliff. The car went into Millerton Lake. By the time help arrived, they had drowned. They were…stuck…in their seat belts. They died because I was too selfish to tell them I didn’t need a gift and the last thing I told my mom was ‘I love you’.” Her head drops against my chest. “Those words…they’ve been in my nightmares for so long…I just can’t…it hurts too much.”

Agony surges through my gut as I wrap her in my arms. Her body shakes with every heart-wrenching sob. “Christ,” I mutter to myself. Kissing the side of her head, I take a deep breath. I know that I need to say something, even though nothing I can say will fix her broken heart.

“I get why those words would scare you after what happened, but nothing’s going to happen to me just because you say them.” With my cheek pressed against hers, I brush my fingers up and down the smooth skin on her back. “I’m a firm believer in fate. It’s what brought you back to me, and I think it has an epic future already set out for us. I’m planning to stay in your life for a long fucking time, baby. I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

Feeling her pain when I squeeze her naked body, my heart clenches in a way I imagine to be more painful than an actual heart attack. It’s the answer to my questions at camp all those years ago. Now I finally understand why she walked into the lake and told me afterwards that she wanted to feel what “they” felt. But it’s shitty that a nine-year-old grew up feeling superstitious about expressing her feelings because of a freak accident.

I silently pray to whoever might be listening that we catch a fucking break for a change. Belle has always been considerably strong, but I’m not sure how much more bullshit she can handle.

* * *

As the roadies finish setting up for the following night’s show, I run through the set-list with Belle and the guys, trying to decide on Belle’s song. Nicki watches on from the edge of the stage, throwing in her two cents when warranted. Thank fuck Normie doesn’t insist on being a part of the planning stage since he was such a prick when I told him of my idea. There isn’t enough time for the guys to be comfortable playing one of her original songs, and she’s wary when it comes to doing a cover because she’s worried the original artist won’t be flattered, which I think is bullshit.

“Maybe the two of you should sing Broken together,” Reggie suggests. The fucker towers over Belle, his arm slung over her shoulder like she’s his property. Since Belle seems perfectly comfortable with him, I decide not to bust his balls. “You could alternate verses and harmonize the chorus.”

“Oh my God, yes!” Nicki cheers, clapping her hands together. “That’s my favorite song on the album! It would be perfect!”

Belle quirks one eyebrow and lets out a hollow laugh. “You guys seriously want me to stand in front of a packed stadium and sing about how I singlehandedly broke Roman Stone?”

“Yeah,” Reggie and Nicki answer in perfect unison.

“Rock on,” Belle mutters, nodding to herself. Then she lifts her chin, looking me in the eye. “What do you think?”

I flash her a slow smile. “I think we broke each other. It’s fucking perfect.”

She smiles back at me, but it doesn’t chase away the sadness reflected in her eyes. As the guys return to their instruments and Belle begins working through the vocals, I vow to find a way to prove to her that our pasts don’t matter anymore.

* * *

Just as I suspected, the crowd in Ohio goes in-fucking-sane for Belle when she joins me during the encore for Broken. If she’s nervous, no one would ever know by the confident way she rocks the stage. And she’s definitely keyed up from the performance when we check into the suite I arranged to have filled with white roses, because the second the bellman leaves, she tackles me to the floor and fucks me until we’re both too exhausted to move.

We sound even better in Chicago after spending a couple hours the night before tightening up a few of the key notes. The crowd seems to agree the way they won’t stop screaming once the song’s over. And once again the hotel sex that follows is fucking phenomenal, stretching out until four in the morning when we both pass out.

In the handful of hours we’re allowed after the band’s interviews are completed and before we hit the road again, I take Belle to the Navy Pier where we ride the Ferris Wheel before taking a helicopter ride over the city. She’s like a kid in a candy shop, her beautiful brown eyes filled with wonder and excitement with every new thing she sees. She must send Melanie a hundred pictures and I’ve heard them talking on the phone a few times since we left New York, but I never hear her mention Chaz. With any luck, I won’t have to deal with the douche again.

This must be what true happiness feels like. Having my girl beside me as my career orbits to a new level, watching her find success of her own. Hell, she’s been asked for her autograph more than I have, though it always throws fans off when I tuck my hair inside a baseball cap. The constant warmth that lingers deep in my gut reminds me of how it felt when we were reunited at camp, only now we’re free to be together without a goddamned thing coming between us.

For the first time in my adult life I’m excited about the possibility of settling down and buying a house, even getting married and doing the kid thing. Belle was the only one I had ever imagined doing those things with as a kid, and now that she’s back in my life, I want them even more than I had at seventeen. The way the past week has been going, I don’t see anything holding us back from making the future we once dreamed about on the shores of Lake Tahoe a reality.

The bus is parking in the rain behind the stadium in Madison when Normie gets a call from his contact with West Coast Sound saying they’d like to send a journalist to our show in St. Paul and interview both Belle and me beforehand. It’s exactly the kind of exposure she needs, and with any luck, it’ll generate interest from more than one label.

After the guys whoop it up, hugging and high-fiving Belle, she asks if we can talk in the back of the bus. When I notice she looks exceptionally pale, I quickly pop to my feet and trail behind her to our room. She paces the five feet beside our bed, absentmindedly rubbing her jaw while watching fat drops of rain roll down the window.

“What’s going on?” I ask, closing the door behind me.

“We both know WCS is a really big deal.” She glances my way, but only for a second. “I don’t think we’re ready for that kind of exposure.”

“Are you kidding? Babe.” Chuckling, I cross the room to wrap her in my arms. “We fucking killed it last night! I’ve never heard a crowd go that ape-shit!”

With a shake of her head, she pushes me away. Her features harden with anger just as a bolt of lightning flickers outside. “I don’t mean our performance, Roman! I mean us! Our relationship!”

Taking a step back, I tuck my hair behind my ears before pushing my hands into my jeans pockets. Where the fuck is this coming from? Why wouldn’t she want everyone to know we’re together? “I guess I don’t understand. I thought you wanted this.”

Shoulders dropped, she closes the distance between us and sets her hand on my stomach. “That’s not what I meant. Of course I want this. But we’ve only been together a little over two weeks. It’s still pretty new.”

“Nothing about us is new.” I take my hands out of my pockets and hold onto her waist, searching her eyes for a hint of what she’s thinking. “There’s no doubt in my mind that you know we’re both in this for the long haul. Why wouldn’t you want it to go public? What are you really worried about, Belle? Why do I feel like you’re hiding something?”

Dropping her chin, she lifts one shoulder. “I know this is going to sound ridiculously stupid, because I know better, but Normie said something the other day that’s been bugging the hell out of me. And the way my life always seems to go, I’ve learned to be a skeptic about any promises of happily ever after. I’m just waiting for that moment when everything falls apart.”

“What’d Normie say?” I grind out, digging my fingers into her waist.

“That you only asked me to tour with you because of your stutter.” The darkness in her eyes spikes fear through me when she looks up. “He told me Reggie came up with the idea the night you came looking for me.”

I drop my forehead against hers. “It’s not how it sounds.”

“So he wasn’t lying?” she snaps, drawing away.

I pull her back before she has a chance to storm off. “Reggie suggested that I find you because I was a mess after the night you saw me with Brooke. Yeah I was stuttering, and yeah he mentioned that you’d probably stop it from happening, but you must know by now that I came looking for you that night because I was desperate to get you back. Do you really believe these last few weeks were only about me trying to save my fucking career?”

Of course someone would choose this moment to knock on our door.

“There’s a room filled with important people waiting for us inside!” Rip calls out from the other side.

Teeth grinding together, I close my eyes. “I’ll be out in a minute!”

“Your sex life can wait! Normie’s on all our asses to head out!”

Belle slips out from beneath me with a plastic smile pulling at her lips. “It’s okay. I’ve said everything that needs to be said.”

“First tell me you know that I’d never use you the way that prick suggested.”

“I know. You better go with Rip before Normie throws one of his fits. I’ll join you guys after I’ve changed.” Then she slips into the bathroom and closes the door behind her, leaving me no other choice than to head out with Rip.

Time drags on as we meet with the usual reps and event coordinators inside the stadium, especially when there’s no sign of Belle. With minutes to go before meet and greet is scheduled to begin, I decide to sneak back to the bus to find her and make sure she’s okay. Luke appears in the doorway as I’m leaving the green room, blocking my exit. Before he’s able to get a word in, I already know something’s wrong by his tight expression.

“Your father’s here,” he tells me.

My heart literally slams to a stop.

What the actual fuck?

It’s not surprising that my father would know where to find me since the band’s tour schedule is plastered all over the Internet, but I haven’t heard from him in years. Why now? Why seek me out a thousand miles from home?

Threading my fingers through my hair, I lean against the cool concrete wall as memories of the last time I saw him rush back in a fucked-up blur. The asshole looked ready to slug me one when I stopped by his apartment to tell him that he was dead to me and I didn’t ever want to hear from him again. Guess in his mind “never” has a shelf life.

Luke watches me with his arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t know the whole story about my father, but he knows enough to appreciate why I’d be upset. “He asked security if he could have a minute with you.”

Hatred seeps through every inch of my being when I imagine meeting my old man. “Tell them to send him back.”

Luke dips his chin with understanding. “Want me to stick around?”

“That won’t be necessary. I can handle the prick.”

As Luke retrieves him, I pace the green room, hands clenched into fists at my side. What I’d really like is for Luke to hold him down while I pummel him with my fists as he would always do, although I couldn’t possibly pay him back for the shit he did to my head. Another part of me wants to stick my chest out like a rooster and ask him what he thinks of my “useless” career now.

Then he appears in the doorway, and my rushed breaths all at once make my throat painfully tight.

Drops of rain darken his blazer and his brown hair’s slightly slicked down. He doesn’t look much different from what I remember except for maybe a few more gray hairs, and there’s a red tint surrounding his nose—probably from all the drinking he’s done in the last decade. He’s still in good shape otherwise, likely from time at the gym and countless hours on the golf course. A deep tan and few wrinkles make him deceivingly handsome. Most people would see an attractive, successful man standing in front of me. But all I see is the devil in the flesh.

And just when I think it couldn’t possibly get any worse, Brooke steps in behind him.