Page 95 of Tortured Tones

“It’s not a yes...but if I did it I couldn’t start until the end of February.”

I sat straight. Hope sparked in my chest. “That’s perfect. Hannah’s with us for the first leg of tour. You’d miss the US.”

“That’s the point. Give me two weeks to think about it.”

“Why that long?”

“I only got back yesterday. I need more time to process everything. Okay?”

“Fine. Call me. Any time.”

“I will. Good luck with the show.”

“Thanks.”

Harper ended the call. I buried my head into my hands. That hadn’t exactly gone to plan. I still had no answer. I needed a fucking nanny. I needed certainty.

As I stood, I swayed again. Fuck. I didn’t need this.

Ava rushed over. “Cole, I’m getting the doctor.”

“No. I’m fine. It’s just pre-show nerves kicking in.” I was sure that was it. It had been a long time since breakfast. “I need food. I’ll finish this interview, then eat.”

“And drink.” She picked up my water and handed it to me. “If this happens again, I won’t hesitate. Got it?”

“Yep. Thanks. Got it.”

I rejoined the guys and finished our interview. Over lunch I told them about Harper’s pending decision, but within minutes, the high of opening night took over. After checking into our rooms, we were driven to the venue for sound check.

During the drive, I tried to rest, but my mind wouldn’t stop racing. Charlotte. Ava. Harper. The show. I had to hold our performance together. Not miss a beat.

I ran through the first song in my head, counting the rhythm. One. Two. Three-four. My heart thudded as I transitioned into the second track. One. And a two. And a three. And a four. Pause, two, three, four. Play. I tapped my fingers against my thigh, our medley of hits playing through my mind. I fast-forwarded through the rest of our set list, my solo, then the encore pummeled my brain.

I couldn’t fuck up.

The guys played off the pace I set.

They depended on me.

I knew the set list backward. Every song. Every beat. Every element. So why did I want to throw up? I lived to play. I’d hadn’t been like this during our last two tours.

“Cole?” Slip shook my arm, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“What?”

“You with us?” Excitement charged through his tone.

“Fuck yeah.” Of course I was.

At the venue, fans were already lined up at the entrance. So cool! We waved to them as we drove through the parking lot and headed straight inside to run through sound check. It went off without a hitch.

Stopping to take in the moment, the guys and I stood in a row with our arms hooked around each other’s backs in the center of the stage. The empty-seated auditorium stretched before us. Crew scuttled across the floor, securing cables, adjusting lights, and wheeling equipment trunks out of sight.

“This is it.” Flint clutched onto a handful of my hoodie and gave me a gentle shake. The energy radiating off him was as electric as a disco beat. “We’re here. Ready to take on the world.”

“Never want to be anywhere else.” I swung my arm around his neck and ruffled his hair.

“Opening night at The Forum.” Slip clapped and pumped his fist. “We’re gonna rock the shit out of this joint.”

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