Chapter 32

Axton

I jolt awake as the dream tries to take serious hold of me. Looking at the alarm clock, I realize I’m only awake twenty minutes ahead of schedule. During the night, Addi shifted to her back, and with her beautiful dark waves spread out on my pillow, I question whether this tour is the best thing.

It’s not the first time in the last month I’ve just wanted to walk away from it all. Hell, twenty minutes into the first leg, I was ready to give it all up. I just don’t have the passion for it like I used to.

Keeping my hands to myself no matter how bad my fingers itch to touch her, I watch her sleep. The slow, steady rhythm of her breath is the most calming thing I’ve heard in my entire life. Her eyes move behind her eyelids, nose twitching from something in her dream. I can’t imagine spending my life any other way.

It isn’t until her lips quiver and a tear forces its way past her closed lids that I realize her dream has turned sad. I let myself picture it’s her pain as I walk away, but I realize just how fucked up that is. I don’t want her to hurt. I want her to miss me, to welcome me back into her arms when I come home in a couple months. I want her to profess her love for me, assure me she’ll be mine when I get home.

Pain is the last thing I want her to suffer because of me.

I catch the tear on the tip of my finger, the contact of my skin against hers enough to slowly pull her from sleep. When her eyes finally open and find mine, anguish is the only word that comes to mind.

“You’re sad,” I whisper, sweeping stray hairs away from her face.

“I am,” she agrees, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wish you could stay.”

“I wish you could go,” I counter.

“I’ll miss you.” The emotion in her voice almost forces mine to bubble up from my throat.

“Shhh,” I say, tugging her against my chest. “None of that right now. We still have five minutes before the alarm goes off.”

I spend the next couple dozen breaths with her against me, and everything is right in my world. It ends the second my cell starts to chime. We both ignore the wetness on my shirt from her tears. I don’t want to make her feel guilty and pressuring her to wait for me last time didn’t work out very well for either of us.

When she watches me from the bed as I tug my jeans on and pull a t-shirt over my head, the words are on the tip of my tongue, but I push them down again, hoping my feelings were evident in the way I held her last night.

She’s dressed again by the time I come back out of the bathroom. Silently, we switch spots, and I wait for her on the corner of the bed.

“What time is your flight?” she asks as she sits beside me to pull on her shoes.

“A couple hours.”

Her eyes widen as she stands from the bed. “A couple hours? It’ll take you two hours to get to the airport. Come on.”

Grabbing my hand, she tries to tug me up from the bed.

“It’s fine,” I assure her. “Just give me five more minutes.”

I pull her back down until she’s all but sitting in my lap and cage her to my chest as if holding her a few minutes longer will allow her to seep into my bones so I can take a little of her with me.

“Remind me why I’m doing this.”

“It’s your dream,” she begins. “A wonderful opportunity that is only the first of many as your career gains momentum. Before too long, everyone will be there to watch you headline.”

“My dream,” I whisper, as if saying it out loud will keep me from thinking about how my dreams have shifted, how staying in Macon no longer seems like torture, but the perfect way to spend my life.

“I know you didn’t have the best time the first go around, but this time will be different. You’re going to kill it,” she assures me.

“I’ll call you every day,” I promise, and she stiffens in my arms.

“You don’t have to do that. You’ll be busy. I’ll be busy with school.”

“I want to talk to you, see your gorgeous face.”

“Okay.” She’s responded that way numerous times over the last month when I start to talk about plans or intentions for her, and it cuts deeper than I ever thought it could. “Five minutes are up. You need to get going.”

She pulls away from my chest, refusing to look me in the eye as she gathers her things and waits for me at the door.

The drive to her house is silent, but she doesn’t pull away when I wrap my hand around hers a minute into the short trip.

“Be safe,” she says as we pull up outside her house.

“I will,” I vow before leaning in closer.

Her throat works on a swallow, and she turns her head. With my intended target out of reach, I kiss her cheek.

“Don’t forget about me,” I plead.

“Never,” she says in a rush before climbing out of the truck and going inside.

She wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t acknowledge what we’ve built over the last month, what we’ve been building the last seven months. If she had turned her head, had seen the tear rolling down my cheek at the thought of going several months without seeing her, would it have made any difference to her?

Backing out of her driveway, I only make it a mile down the road before I pull over and slam my hands on the steering wheel.

I shoot off a text to Carson. There’s no way I can walk away from her again. Tour be damned, I’m not going.

Instead of the expected text, my phone rings.

“You do realize that’s not a possibility, right?” he says immediately when I answer.

“You have to work some magic, man. I can’t leave.”

“You’re not listening. If you back out of the tour, you might as well burn the contract and hire an attorney. Easton Montgomery may be a pretty boy on stage, but he’s ruthless. He has the means to go after you for breach of contract, and he’s the type to do just that.”

“Carson,” I mutter, “I can’t.”

“You have to,” he says. “Don’t sign up for another one if it’s offered, but you have to see this one through.”

“I have a little in my savings. Can’t we just buy out the contract?”

He laughs. Actually fucking laughs in my ear. “Did you even read the contract?”

“Fuck no,” I mutter. “You said it was legit, so I just signed it.”

“There’s a quarter million buyout, and I know you don’t have a fraction of that in savings.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I stare out the windshield, a headache coming on like an avalanche. “I’m not even making ten grand after Brent Johnson’s band gets their cut. How the fuck is it that much?”

“Easton doesn’t want people backing out on him. If they feel the need to, he’s made sure he’ll reap the benefits.” He sighs into the phone. “Just forget about her and go be a star.”

I roll my lips between my teeth.

Just forget about her.

Simplest thing in the world for him.

I’m willing to give up everything in my life if it means I don’t lose one second of a memory of her.

“Not possible,” I murmur.

“Are you guys together?”

Like that’s any of his business.

“We spent every available minute of the last month together. You know that. You whined like a little baby at not ever seeing me without her stuck to my side.”

“But are you together? You know declarations and promises of monogamy and all that shit?” he clarifies.

He knows the answer, and he’s trying to prove a point, so I don’t even bother answering.

“I’ll take your silence as a no. She’s keeping you at arm’s length because she doesn’t want to date you. You need to drive to the airport and let that sink in.”

“She’s keeping the distance between us because of the tour. If I weren’t going on tour, we’d be together.” At least, I’m almost certain of that.

“She has a problem with you on tour because she can’t trust you.”

I wince as his words ring true.

“I haven’t been with anyone else. I told her as much.”

“If she’s not willing to date you while you’re on tour, she doesn’t believe you.” He pauses, and I watch the traffic coming and going from the gas station I pulled into. “You have to let her go. Have a great time on the tour and accept that at least you have her as a friend.”

“Friendship,” I hiss, the word tasting like shit in my mouth, just like every other time it’s been brought up.

“Exactly,” he says. “Now, get back on the road or you’re going to miss your damn flight.”

“Fine,” I concede. “Keep an eye on her.”

“I’m not stalking the girl.”

“I’m not asking you to stalk her, asshole. Just make sure she’s safe and has anything she needs.”

“That girl is more independent than you and I put together. She doesn’t need anyone’s help.”

I nod, knowing it’s the truth.

“I’ll text you when I land.”

Hanging up, I toss my phone in the seat beside me. The farther I drive away from Macon, the bigger the hole in my heart gets.