Page 68 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

Sam drops into the seat beside me, his knee brushing mine. “You doing okay?” he asks, his voice low.

“Not really,” I admit, staring out the window at the empty road. “We don’t have time for delays like this. The schedule is too tight.”

“It’s just a blown hose,” he says, his tone light. “We’ll get it fixed.”

“It’s not just this,” I say, my voice sharp with frustration, then immediately regret it. His brows knit together, concern flashing in his eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he says softly, reaching for my hand. “Is there something I should know about?.”

Hesitating, I finally shake my head. “No, I guess everything is fine.”

But the knot in my chest doesn’t loosen. Every minute we sit here feels like a ticking bomb, and I can’t shake the feeling that we’re skating on thin ice with this tour. Is there something wrong? Are these simple coincidences? Why do they feel more—like someone is sabotaging the tour?

Sam keeps me company; his humor makes me laugh. The hours creep by as we wait for roadside assistance. Finally, I make my way back to Cass’s bus with Sam in tow.

Cass opens the door at my knock and steps out. “Hey, is there an update?”

“No, roadside assistance can’t give us a definite time,” I admit, “I thought we should come up with a backup plan.”

He nods slowly. “Okay, what did you have in mind?”

“I thought maybe we could move the equipment in our bus to yours–just the necessities,” I blurt out, “Then drive with you to the performance.”

“That could work. It’s a hell of a lot of work, but we could do it.” He nods again. “You’ll leave the driver here, and he can join the rest of the crew once everything’s fixed?”

Smiling in relief, I say, “Yes, that’s what I was thinking.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

We break the news to the rest of the band and the crew. All of them groan their complaint. But willing to do whatever it takes to get us on the road. They work quickly, moving the equipment stored on our bus to Cass’s. Once everything has been transferred, we crowd into Cass’s family bus, and soon, we’re on our way. Only our bus driver stays behind, promising he’ll call with updates.

We make it to the venue only a few hours late, which does little to soothe my nerves. The tightness in my chest easesonly slightly as I see the venue staff already bustling around, preparing for our arrival.

Knowing that every moment is precious, we hurriedly step off the bus, only to be met with a stern-faced venue manager who wasted no time voicing his displeasure.

“You cut it close,” he says, his tone clipped. “We were starting to think you wouldn’t make it.”

“We had a mechanical issue,” I explain, forcing my voice to remain calm. “But we’re here now, and we’ll get everything set up on time.”

He doesn’t look convinced, his sharp eyes flicking between me and Cass. “Let’s hope so. We’ve got a packed house tonight, and we can’t afford any more delays.”

I feel Sam’s hand on the small of my back, offering a subtle gesture of support. “We’ll make it happen,” he says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The manager nods curtly before walking away, and I exhale slowly, my shoulders sagging.

“You handled that well,” Sam says, leaning close.

“Barely,” I mutter with a grimace. “We don’t have any room for error tonight.”

“And we won’t make any,” he replies, his voice steady. “Come on. Let’s get to work.”

The crew springs into action, unloading equipment and setting up the stage as the band performs their prep tasks. I stay in constant motion, coordinating with the staff and paying attention to every detail.

Sam tries to catch my eye a few times. I know he wants to talk, but there’s no time—not with the clock ticking down and so much still to do.

Finally, the stage is set, and the soundcheck goes off without a hitch. The band retreats to the dressing rooms to prepare, and I take a moment to catch my breath in the wings.

Sam finds me there, leaning against a stack of equipment cases. “You’ve been running yourself ragged,” he says, his voice low. “You can’t control everything, Emily.”

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