The boys wanted to be right up front so they could see their dad. Iris wasn’t about to let them stand alone, so that meant she had to be right up front too. Which was the last place she wanted to be.

Though the view stole her breath.

Elijah strode out under the lights, every step full of ferocious swagger. The answering roar from the crowd was the loudest of the night. Wasting no time, he grabbed the mic from the stand and launched into growling vocals she was always surprised to hear from him. To listen to his speaking voice, one would never believe this was the same person. Despite all the videos she’d watched, she had no idea how he pulled it off night after night without shredding his throat.

It became staggeringly clear as she watched the audience’s reaction, though, that she had the best seat in the house. The last place she should want to be was out there in that seething, shoving crush, everyone struggling and fighting to get closer to the stage, hundreds of recording cell phones getting jostled in the air. Incredible. Insane, really—they looked like a bed of angry ants. What was it about this music that whipped people into such a frenzy? All she heard over here behind the massive stack of speakers was a muddy churn of grinding nose, the bass rattling her ribcage. Eli’s lyrics were unclear to her, but every time he paused and thrust the mic out toward the crowd, they filled in without fail.

Seger and Dylan both bobbed their heads along with the deafening beat. They had surely seen and heard this a hundred times.

One thing was certain: Elijah owned this crowd. They were in the palm of his hand, every eye pinned on him . . . including hers. He was hard to look away from as he prowled the stage, and by the third song of their set, she found herself enjoying watching him. Every time she caught a glimpse of his face, he wore a sly little grin. By the fourth song, she caught a fleeting glimpse of a topless girl in the crowd—no wonder he was grinning, if that’s what he kept seeing. Oh, great. She hoped the kids weren’t watching too closely, especially Seger.

Halfway through the set, his own shirt came off; he wadded it and tossed it into the crowd. It disappeared in a furious flurry of hands, probably ripped to shreds. That body she had admired only yesterday was on display for thousands of screaming females, sweat-slick and gleaming under the lights. How had Heidi handled that, knowing that every female in the building wanted to bang her husband? If he were mine, I don’t know if . . .

She immediately forced her mind to clamp down on that thought and strangle it to death.

Heidi wouldn’t have worried about it. Heidi was twice as beautiful as any woman in this building. She had probably swelled with pride at knowing he was hers, that these women only had the fantasy and she had the real thing in her bed, had made supremely beautiful children with him.

And still, they didn’t make it.

Maybe this was an odd place to ponder over it, but it was sad to think about. Despite any laughs and smiles that had exchanged between them, a tension hung between these three, an almost imperceptible melancholy, an incompleteness tinging the space whenever they were all together. She might not notice it herself if she didn’t know these boys so well.

It wasn’t her place—at all—to try to fill it. But maybe for the first time, she was glad she was here.

If she got to watch a good-looking rock star saunter around shirtless almost every night, so much the better.

––––––––

IT WAS WELL PAST MIDNIGHT before it was over, and Iris’s eyelids were heavy, but apparently the party was just getting started. The band members were riding high on a successful opening night, whooping and doling out back-slapping hugs to each other and key crew members. Elijah caught Dylan up in his arms and grabbed Seger in an affectionate headlock, the boy laughing as he fought him off. Iris, forgotten, fell in behind them as they headed backstage to Eli’s dressing room.

She doubted she was welcome there, so as they headed down the hallway, she steered herself toward the exit, where the buses were still outside. The kids would no doubt be okay with their dad for a little while.

“There she is,” a slimy voice said behind her just as she was reaching for the door to leave the building. “I was wondering where you’d gotten off to.”

Frowning, she turned around to see one the of the band members—one of the guitar players?—grinning at her. He had a black Mohawk, and his shirtless, tattooed torso shined with sweat. And at the wicked gleam in his eyes, Iris immediately regretted her decision not to follow Elijah and the boys. “Um, I’ve been right here.”

“Did you like the show?”

“It was loud.”

He laughed and wiped his face with the towel slung over one shoulder. “Fuck yeah, it was. I guess this is not really your scene, huh?”

“You guessed right.”

“I think we’ll corrupt you before it’s over.” The way he looked up and down her body made her think his idea of corruption had nothing to do with what kind of music she listened to. She was dressed in layers, but he made her feel as if she were stark naked. People were all around, but she felt completely alone. He was the rock star. He was the boss, or one of them, at least. Even if she had warning bells going off in her head, would anyone come to her aid if she needed help?

“What was your name again?” he asked, stepping closer.

“Iris.”

“That’s pretty. I’m Quin. What are you doing right now?”

“Well, um, the kids are with Eli and so I was heading to the bus.”

“Why go to his when you can come to mine?” The corner of his mouth came up in a smirk. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy; many of those female screams tonight had most certainly been for him. But her type he definitely was not. Did she even have a type, though? It had been so long. She didn’t know anymore. “Since you have a break.”

“I’m tired, actually.” The smell of his sweat swirled into her head, turning her stomach. She wanted to go, wanted to flee, but didn’t necessarily want to end up somewhere alone with him. Maybe she was safer in here. “But I just remembered I need to ask Eli something. Excuse me.”

“See you around,” he said, watching her go. Even as she walked away, even when she could no longer see him, she felt his eyes on her, like insects under her skin. She rubbed her arms as she walked rapidly in the direction the kids and their dad had headed.

The AAA pass was definitely a golden ticket. No one even bothered to stop her as she slipped inside the band frontman’s dressing room, quickly closing the door behind her. The boys were seated on a black leather couch, Nintendo Switches in hand. Her heart swelled with relief to see them. “Where’s your dad?” she asked.

“In the shower,” Seger said, not taking his eyes off the game.

The lighting was turned down low and ambient, and she recalled some articles she’d read in the past about tour riders, weird requests that musicians made of the venues where they performed. Eli’s dressing room looked pretty normal, though. His trunks were open, wardrobe on display . . . she couldn’t tell much about what was inside except that there was an awful lot of black. She perched on a love seat, chewing her thumb nail and feeling unsure of what she should say, or if she should say anything.

That guy out there had made her feel uncomfortable, but this was someone Elijah had known for years. He would most assuredly take his side over hers. He didn’t want her here anyway. Besides that, what had the man done except make a pass? It happened all the time. She might very well be the only woman in the building who wouldn’t take him up on it.

Immaculate Iris, she thought grudgingly. Truth was, she had no idea what constituted normal and what didn’t. Nothing in her life had been normal. She could only trust her gut instincts.

The bathroom door opened, jarring her from her thoughts, and Elijah came out with only a white towel wrapped low around his waist, his black hair wet and mussed. Iris’s spine shot ramrod straight, heat flooding her face, but he barely even glanced at her as he walked over to one of his cases, the split in his towel riding high up one tattooed thigh. It wasn’t much more than she’d seen in the pool yesterday, but it was enough to set the blood pounding in her ears. Only when he’d selected a shirt and a pair of jeans did he turn to her and lift an eyebrow.

“Thought you were going to the bus.”

“I was,” she said, glancing at the kids.

“They’re fine, you know. An earthquake wouldn’t get them away from their games.” He scrutinized her closer and, alarmed, she cast her gaze at the floor. “What’s the matter?”

If she was going to tell him, this wasn’t the place to do it. “Later,” she said.

“If someone hassled you, there’s plenty of security around here. Say the word and I’ll have someone walk you.” The clean scent of his soap reached her just then, and she inhaled it deeply. It cleansed Quin’s lingering stench from her sinuses.

“Can I just wait for you guys?”

With a shrug, he walked back toward the bathroom. “Suit yourself.” The door closed behind him, and Iris let out a breath, putting a hand to her cheek. She had to stop blushing so wildly around him. It wasn’t appropriate, and sooner or later he was going to notice, if he hadn’t already. But the afterimage of him damn near naked burned behind her eyelids every time she closed her eyes.

Nope, nothing in her life could be normal.