Page 49 of Wild Obsession

“Hey.”

I look up to find Cameron sitting beside me. There’s a question in his gaze, the same worried question he’s been asking me this entire tour, but I have no more answers today than I did the first time Keannen cornered me and upended my life.

“I’m good,” I say before he can ask. “Just end of the tour blues.”

He nods. It’s a plausible enough explanation. As much as we’re all exhausted, we’ll also all miss this. It’s an experience very few people get to have. We’re fortunate beyond our wildest dreams, and it’s always a little hard leaving the flashy shows and adoring fans behind.

“Alright,” Cameron says. “Just so you know, we have a long ride ahead. We can talk if you want. Not muchelse to do.”

I smile. Cameron’s not a talker, so the offer means a little more coming from him than it would coming from most people.

“I know,” I say. “I appreciate it.”

He nods and leaves it that. Somewhere behind me, Kelsey is napping, and Erin is working on lyrics for the songs we’ll record back home. These three people have gotten me through so much, they’ve changed my life in ways they don’t even realize, but none of them can help me with this one. Whatever Keannen means for my life, whatever I’m feeling about our connection, it’s a challenge I’ll have to tackle without my bandmates.

I never thought I’d dread getting home at the end of all this, but suddenly all my hopes hinge on a motel in the middle of South Dakota.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Keannen

TIM AND I MAINTAIN our secret as we head for home. Only as we sit on our respective tour buses does it hit me how similar this is to when we were kids. Back then, we also snuck around trying not to get caught. The reasons are different, but not that different. As teenagers, we snuck around because Tim was ashamed. I was already out, but he kept saying he couldn’t follow me. Not yet, not yet, always not yet. Timstillisn’t out, not even to his bandmates, and I don’t want to face the scrutiny and questions, the implications that I’m doing more than messing around and having fun, and so we remain trapped in “not yet.”

Things feel more normal as soon as I’m back on a tour bus. When we leave Chicago, I sit on the bus and stare idly out the window, not texting, not thinking about Tim, eagerto get home and go back to a life that’s a lot less glamorous, but which makes a lot more sense. With no more shows to play, everyone occupies themselves however they can during the long hours of driving. Jacob works on music, scribbling in his notebook all day. Levi mostly plays some handheld video game system that chirps annoying noises at us all day long. Shawn strums idly at his guitar, while Dan reads in his bunk. It’s boring as hell, but we’re all attempting to let go of the high of being briefly famous and not think about whether or not the tour achieved what our management hoped it would. Is this Baptism Emperor’s break? We probably won’t know until we’re back, and there’s nothing else we can do about it. The shows are over. Either those crowds liked us or they didn’t.

I keep myself busy by screwing around on my phone, but there’s only so much social media someone can stand in a day. Besides, most of the stuff about Baptism Emperor also includes The Ten Hours. Any images I find of us playing also includes images of them, and I really don’t need to zoom in on pictures of Tim drumming while I’m trying to think about anything other than him.

“Hey,” Jacob says, interrupting some truly rockstar-like brooding on the couch in the front of the bus.

He lifts my feet like a toll arm and sets himself under them, letting them rest in his lap.

“Whatcha up to?” he asks.

I shrug. “Nothing. Bored.”

It’s our second day of clambering toward home, and somehow hours of empty road have become even less interesting than they were yesterday.

“Yeah, same,” Jacob says.

So then why the hell are you bothering me?I don’t ask. But seriously, why is he? If he wants to talk, there are better options, yet here he is scooting closer and lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Huh? Yes.”

Dread knots in the pit of my stomach. Why is he poking at this? I can’t possibly have given anything away by sitting around on my phone for two days. Maybe Tim went crying to his bandmates and they reached out to nice, cheerful, friendly Jacob, who I have no doubt has all their phone numbers already.

“You disappeared last night,” Jacob says. “No one saw you. Levi said you didn’t come back until morning.”

“So? Can a guy get laid?”

Jacob flushes, and I have to roll my eyes. As though he won’t be up to his neck in whatever he wants as soon as we blow up.

He gathers himself before pressing me more. “You’re usually a little more, like, triumphant after that sort of thing.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “Triumphant?”

“You know, all swaggering and proud of yourself.”

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