I should have been focused on the glowing screen in front of me. Hundreds of photos still needed sorting and editing. I'd been behind in my work ever since August…

I closed my eyes against the bright lights of my laptop.

…Ever since August's fall, which was what we'd begun to call the incident.

Opening my eyes, I snuck a quick glance at the front of the bus. The guys were alternatively watching a movie and checking their phones.

Cameron grinned almost wickedly as he texted. I didn't want to know what he was saying to his girlfriend. I assumed it was dirty. Ian typed rapidly, his thumbs moving at a blur. Noah spoke into his phone in low tones. The soft curve of his lips, almost a smile, was the closest to a pleasant expression I'd seen on him so far. Damon's eyes were on the TV, expression eager as he watched a deadly car chase.

But every so often, their eyes would wander to August.

The drummer sat on a sofa, leaning back into a corner, one arm draped over the back. His relaxed posture made him look at peace. His head was buried in a book, the same book I'd seen him reading on the first day of the tour. Either he didn't notice the guys staring at him, or he was pretending not to notice.

After what happened, we all agreed to watch over August.

It was an odd feeling, keeping an eye on the person who usually kept an eye on everyone else. I wondered how odd it must have felt for August, to be under the watchful eye of all his friends.

It wasn't that we didn't trust him. He told us he was done with the drugs and we believed him. Or, we wanted to believe him. We all knew it wasn't that easy. But maybe for August it was. He never failed when he put his mind to something. If anyone could do it, it would be him.

The bus pulled into a parking lot. We were in front of a large grocery store.

"Time to stock up." Cameron stuffed his phone in his pocket and hopped up from the sofa. "We ran out of nacho chips and beer days ago. I don't know how I'm supposed to live like this."

"You could at least eat a banana or an apple once in a while," Ian said. "It won't kill you."

"Hey, you can get potassium poisoning from too many bananas. It's totally possible to overdose on—"

Every froze as Cameron realized what he'd just said.

"Sorry," he cringed.

"It's cool." August waved his hand in the air dismissively. "We can't tiptoe around the subject. Not with the way you guys are watching me like I'll go off the deep end any minute."

"We just want to be sure you're okay," Ian said.

"I'm doing fine. I'd tell you if I wasn't."

"Would you really?" Damon muttered. He shook his head and spoke out loud. "I'm heading in to get something caffeinated."

"Anyone else?" Cameron asked. "Ian, Noah?"

Cameron purposely didn't look at me as he said it. Neither did Ian or Noah. They had been chilly to me ever since August checked out of the hospital. Cameron especially.

"You coming?" Damon called back to August.

"I'll stay here."

Damon paused, staring at him.

"I'm staying, too," I said, meeting Damon's eyes. "I don't need anything right now."

Damon had been the only one not to give me the cold shoulder. He'd said in the hospital that they'd all kept their fair share of secrets. Maybe he didn't feel he could judge me for keeping August's.

I wondered what Damon's secret was.

The twin studied me carefully for a minute. He gave me a nod.

"Cool. Be right back."

August craned his head around, watching me click away on the mouse, feigning work.

"You don't need to babysit me," he said.

At least he sounded amused, not annoyed.

"It's not babysitting," I countered. "It's moral support."

August stood and approached me, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

"Thank you for being so understanding. For not being upset."

"I am upset."

I whirled around in the swivel chair to face him. Soft blue eyes, clear and bright, gazed into mine, waiting patiently. As if expecting me to finally blow up. I fought to keep my expression smooth, to keep my brow from furrowing.

"You lied to me," I said calmly, suppressing the scream that was clawing its way out of my throat. "You made me lie to everyone else."

August cast his eyes down and nodded. "You're right. It wasn't fair of me to ask that of you."

"But getting mad at you and shouting won't fix anything."

"It might make you feel better. Call me a stubborn idiot like Cameron."

"You're a stubborn idiot."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Now say it again, but put some fire behind it."

"Don't sound so amused. You're lucky I'm not throwing things at your head and shouting obscenities."

"You should. It's better to let it out."

"I don't want to be mad at you. Right now, I just want to help."

A teasing smile played on his lips. "You can help by giving me a massage."

"You just want me to put my hands on you."

"Selfish, I know. But you'll get something out of it, too."

My fingers tingled at the idea of placing my hands on August, on being giving free permission to touch that smooth, firm skin.

He was right that I probably shouldn't have suppressed my anger. But it was also true getting mad wouldn't help. I could push it aside and focus on helping August through this.

We exchanged positions, him taking the chair, me standing behind him. He moved to pull off his shirt and winced.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, worried.

"Just a bit," he admitted. "The new stuff doesn't work as well as the old stuff."

I didn't say, of course it doesn't. The old stuff was strong enough to put you in the hospital.

"Let me help."

Like a replay of that first concert, I tugged his shirt up and over his head.

My breath caught, then exhaled nosily in disappointment. He was wearing an undershirt, covering his chest and back. His muscled, tattooed arms and broad shoulders were bare. I could enjoy that, at least.

I placed my hands on his shoulders, near the curve of his neck, and started to knead with my thumbs, softly, gingerly.

"I don't really know what I'm doing," I said.

August groaned, half-pleasure, half-pain. "Just keep doing that."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You could never."

I'd been this close to a bare-chested August before, but I'd never laid my hands on him this easily. I was able to stoke and rub and caress in any way I chose. It was freeing.

It was also arousing. This was supposed to be a soothing, healing touch, an innocent moment between us. But ever since that night on the roof, nothing between us had been innocent. The feeling of his warm skin under my hands inflamed the most secret parts of me.

The groans and moans leaving August's lips didn't help cool down that heat.

Still, I tried to push those thoughts away. This was about August, not about me.

"I'm already feeling much better," he said with a pleased sigh.

"Does it hurt very much?"

"A little. Not all the time. As long as I take it easy I should be fine."

If he was fine, he wouldn't have needed drugs in the first place.

I didn't say anything. There were other questions I wanted to ask.

"In the hospital, you said something about a car accident. Was that the same one…?" I trailed off, giving him time to brush me off if he didn't want to talk about it.

He nodded slowly.

"Yes. The same one that killed my parents."

"You said you got away with only a few broken bones."

"The strain on my shoulder was minimal enough it didn't show up at first. It's only when I overwork it that it becomes a problem."

"I'm sorry," I said. "It must be hard. That constant reminder of what you lost."

Slowly, he turned around in the chair, facing me. I kept my hands resting lightly on his shoulders. When his eyes met mine, I saw they were full of pain.

"It almost destroyed me," he admitted. "Especially the way it happened."

"How did it happen?" I asked softly.

Spreading his knees, he tugged me to come stand between them, his forehead resting against my stomach.

"I was arguing with my parents. Something stupid, I don't even remember. I was always so stubborn. My dad turned around in his seat. He didn't see the other car coming. Didn't have time to swerve away. They got hit head on."

I hugged him tight, pressing my cheek to the crown of his blond head. August inhaled a slow breath before continuing to speak.

"I couldn't get over the guilt for a long time. I blamed myself for their deaths. But the worst was the rage I felt."

He tilted his head up to meet my eyes. There was no sign of the anger he spoke about. Only sorrow, regret.

"It was a drunk driver. It wasn't his first time either. He'd been driving on a suspended license. He shouldn't have been on the road."

August squeezed his eyes closed.

"I was so angry. I hated that man for taking away my parents. I wanted him to suffer, like they had suffered, stuck in the twisted metal of a car, broken bones, punctured organs, bleeding out until their bodies finally gave up. I wanted him to feel that."

My heart was heavy in my chest, aching for August. I'd never experienced something as horrible as he had. I couldn't imagine going through it and coming out okay.

"I put all that guilt and anger and hate into my music. I didn't try to suppress it. I let it out. I let it overtake me, let it consume me, and used it to fuel my art."

"And that helped?" I asked softly.

"Not at first. But eventually, slowly, the rage lessened. The guilt eased. Not completely, but enough. Enough that I could live with it. I don't know who I'd be without the music. I don't know what I'd do without it. It made me what I am. It continues to shape me to this day."

I could imagine it. A young August, railing against the world, misery and hatred balled up inside, turning him bitter and harsh. It so easily could have been that way.

But he'd found a way to cope. He'd not only found a way to make it through, but to thrive, despite all the pain. His music had saved him.

Under my hands, August's shoulders were still tense. I squeezed them gently.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have bought up all these bad memories."

He shook his head and placed his hands on mine.

"It's only fair. I managed to guess so much about you. I want you to know about me. About my past."

And what about your future? I thought. Do I have a place there?

I shouldn't have been thinking things like that. It was too soon. Too deep.

But when August collapsed on stage…

When he hit the ground so hard, unresponsive, lips turning blue, barely breathing…

My heart nearly gave out. My lungs crumpled in my chest. I wanted to scream and scream and never stop.

I thought I'd known fear before.

Now I knew was true terror felt like.

"Hey."

I blinked as August cupped my cheek, bringing me back to the present.

"I'm okay," he reassured me. "I'm fine."

He always knew what I was thinking, feeling. He knew me better than I knew myself.

"I was really scared," I whispered. "You really, really scared me."

August drew me down, pulling me into his lap. It was awkward on the desk chair, my legs on either side of his hips, perched on his knees. Still, I snuggled into his chest as best I could, burying my face in his neck.

Warm, strong hands ran soothing lines up and down my back. Inhaling slowly, I breathed in his scent. Somehow, no matter the time of day, he always managed to smell intoxicating.

"I never meant to scare you," he said. "It won't happen again."

"It better not," I mumbled. "Or I really will throw something at your head next time, unconscious or not."

Strands of his hair tickled my cheek as he pressed a kiss to the side of my head. Then my ear. Then my jaw.

"You'd have to get in line," he mumbled against my throat. "The others will probably kick my ass before you have a chance to get to me."

With a gentle touch on my chin, he lifted my head, dipping down to place a kiss on my neck. A pulse of pleasure went straight from that kiss, down my belly, to settle between my legs.

"You've got good friends," I managed to say.

"I do," he agreed.

Keeping my head tilted back, he covered my neck with his lips, tongue and teeth. Quick pecks at first, then slow, sucking kisses, soon followed by sensual nibbles, just verging on the edge of pain.

I squirmed in place, thighs clenching and squeezing, as I was assaulted by thrilling sensations.

With a palm on the small of my back, August urged my hips forward to nestle against his.

I'd only felt his hardness against me once before, that time on the roof. Since then, I'd thought my mind had exaggerated the memory, making everything seem much more… impressive than it really was.

But my memory was correct. The rise in August's jeans was large and hard against me, straining against the zipper. I could feel how hot he was through my leggings. The heat of him was nothing compared to the inferno rapidly gathering strength inside me.

I rocked against him, bringing us closer together. I hissed as his length pressed against the very core of me. He let out a groan, his lips stilling on my neck.

"What are you feeling right now?" he asked, the teasing words muffled against my throat.

Wrapping my arms tight around his shoulders for balance, I continued with the small rocking motions, rolling and writhing against him.

"Probably the same as you," I said, pleasure singing through my veins.

August's hands went to my legs, stroking up and down. His thumbs rubbed my inner thighs, inching upwards with every pass.

"Right now I feel like ripping off those damn leggings of yours and licking you 'til you scream."

My cheeks flushed red hot, even as a groan left my lips.

His lips curved into a wicked smile against my skin.

"Is that what you're feeling?"

I suddenly envisioned a dozen scenarios involving August's naked body and my tongue. My insides throbbed at the thought.

Indistinct voices sounded from outside the bus. Still distant, but coming closer.

We stilled.

"Shit." August dropped his head back and blew out a breath.

I scrambled off his lap, cheeks burning with embarrassment now. I took a quick inventory of myself, making sure my hair was smoothed and my clothes were unrumpled.

August adjusted himself discreetly.

"Someday soon I'm going to get you alone," he said.

I shivered at the husky words, full of promise.

"And then what?" I asked, aiming for playful.

"And then I won't have to ask what you're feeling."

Ice blue eyes burned into me, hot enough to melt glaciers.

"I'll have you screaming it for hours."