Page 42 of Spite Crush

“I want you to come stay with me.” He let out a soft sigh. “Look, I’m not asking you to walk away from your life in L.A. or anything. But you’re done with your tour and I have a few days before the playoffs start and I feel like maybe this is an opportunity for us.”

“You mean a test,” I said, thinking I was finally understanding why he was asking me to come there. “To see if we only work in hotels andlocker rooms or if this can be something real.”

“Kellen,” he said firmly. “Thisisreal. I’m not saying I’m ready to come out and announce my truth to the world. But I want you to come to Michigan because…I want you to come to Michigan. There’s no ulterior motive, this isn’t a test we can pass or fail. This is just me asking you to come stay with me because I want to spend time with you.”

“Okay.” I mean honestly, how could I refuse him anything at this point? I didn’t want to believe that Iwas falling for him, because if I allowed that to happen I was going to get my heart broken. But he was right. This was something real. And maybe for once I owed it to myself to let things play out without just waiting for the inevitable end.

Not everything needed to be catastrophized before it even had a chance to start.

“Really?”

“Did you want me to say no?” I asked with a laugh. “Text me your address and I’ll be there tomorrow.”

We hung up and I sat there for a minute, wondering how the hell I was going to make this work. I knew I needed to get to Michigan without drawing attention to myself, which meant that flying commercial was out. I’d chartered a flight to Vegas, but that was far less conspicuous than chartering another to the Midwest.

Then I remembered reading about a friend in another band who’d just negotiated for a private jet from our label. And that band happened to be playing a festival show in Tampa that very same night.

I opened my phone and scrolled to the V’s in my contacts, pushing the call button before I could chicken out.

“Yo.”

“Hey, Rye,” I said nervously. “It’s Kellen Fox. I was hoping to ask a favor.”

Chapter Sixteen

~Zak~

“Honey, I’m home,” I called as I walked in the front door, tossing my bag aside as I looked around the empty living room. “Where are you?”

I knew Kellen had arrived while I’d been gone, because there was a bright red Porsche parked in front of the house. I’d advised my security team to give him full access to the place, and to keep an eye out for any media that might be skulking around the area.

Kellen knew that we had to be discreet, but I hadn’t thought to ask him how he’d planned to get to Michigan. I got the feeling that most of the people in his life treated him like a child, and I’d vowed to myself I would never do that to him if I could help it.

“I’m in here!”

I walked into the kitchen to find Kellen sitting barefoot at the island eating pickles out of the jar. Glancing around the room I noticed that almost every cupboard door was sitting open along the wall.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I was starving.”

“I’m amazed I even had food in here,” I admitted, sliding onto a stool next to him and leaning forward to kiss him. “Though it looks like you searched for a while before finding something.”

His brow furrowed as he looked over toward the cupboards, and then he actually blushed, his pale cheeks tinging the most adorable shade of pink before he stood up and walked over to reclose the cabinets.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he worked his way down the wall. “That happens sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” I insisted, motioning for him to sit back down. “I wasn’t complaining. When did you get here?”

“A couple hours ago. I hopped a plane with some friends to Chicago then borrowed their car to drive the rest of the way. I figured that would be the easiest way to avoid attention.” He smiled. “How was practice?”

“Sucked,” I answered with a sigh. “But Josh and I cornered Sutherlandand reminded him that if he keeps working us this hard, we’re going to be tired and sore by time the game rolls around Tuesday. He agreed and now I’m all yours until game time.”

“All mine.” He raised an eyebrow. “I like the sound of that.”

He leaned toward me and I captured his lips in a real kiss, my tongue tracing the seam of his mouth before he opened and allowed me to delve inside. The sharp taste of brine hit my taste buds and I cut the kiss short, pulling back with a grin spreading over my face.

“Did you eat that whole jar of pickles?” I asked him, staring down at the empty container.

“I told you, I was hungry.”

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