Page 62 of Wild Obsession

“It’s not that weknew,” Erin says. “We just sort of assumed…”

“Oh God,” I groan as heat flushes into my face. I’ve been floundering around for nearly six weeks, and meanwhile my entire band has known since the very beginning, apparently. Were Keannen and I ever a secret, or did they assume we were hooking up from the second we clashed at that first rehearsal?

“If any of you say a single word, I’ll lay you out right here in this stupid parking lot,” Keannen growls.

Jacob cocks his head. “Hey, wait. Speaking of laying out, what the hell happened to your jaw?”

Everyone looks a little more closely, and I try to sink deeper into my shoulders. Thankfully, Keannen comes to the rescue.

“We’re late aren’t we?” he says. “I’ll tell you on the bus. Let’s go already.”

No one argues with that. They’re all eager enough to get home to let us off the hook, but I turn to Keannen before we get on the buses.

“Since everyone knows and all…” I say.

He smirks at me, then leans in for a kiss without me having to ask. I linger against his lips as long as I dare, knowing I won’t get much more of this for the rest of the drive home. A peck here or there, but probably nothing else. Two days has never sounded like such an insurmountable period of time.

“See you in Seattle, Freckles,” he says when we part, and I have never treasured those little spots on my cheeks as much as I do right now.

I get on the bus with my bandmates and brace for the barrage, but they truly are as unsurprised as they seemed outside. They don’t ask questions, not even about the swollen black and blue bruise on Keannen’s jaw. Maybe they’ll ask later. Or maybe I’ll simply tell them. I’ve held back a lot over the years, but if I’ve learned anything these past six weeks, it’s that living in secrecy doesn’t get you thethings you want. Holding yourself back from the people you care about, and who actually care about you, doesn’t do anything but put distance between those you should be holding closest.

I’ll tell them. I have two days and a lot of highway to go. I’ll tell them everything. For now, though, I take a seat beside one of the windows and simply watch the world roll by, trying to gather myself before I attempt to explain this whirlwind to the people around me.

Eventually, Cameron sits across from me. He doesn’t talk at first, so I follow my own advice and break the silence.

“Is this why you kept asking if I was okay?”

He has the decency to look a bit bashful. “I wasn’t sure if he was treating you well.”

“He wasn’t, not always, but I think we had to take our own path through this, even if it wasn’t pretty at times.”

Cameron nods. “But you’re okay now?”

My smile rises from the warmth that settled in my chest ever since Keannen and I talked last night. “Yeah, I’m great, actually. I’m sorry it took so long.”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”

“Are you sure? We weren’t exactlynota mess during the tour.”

Cameron waves away the apology. “You were great.”

“Not always.” I had some truly rough nights out there onstage, and the guilt of that hangs over me.

“I don’t think you were as off as you think you were.”Cameron pats my knee as he rises. “You’re too hard on yourself. I hope Keannen’s telling you that as well. And I hope things are good with you guys.”

“They are,” I say, with far more confidence than I thought I could summon for that statement. “Things are really good.”

And they’re only going to get better.

Chapter Thirty

Keannen

TWO BANDS CAN REALLY cramp a single practice space, but we insisted on this arrangement. We sprawl over every surface. The guitarists form a huge cluster like a flock of brooding birds, picking at their guitars and trading riffs back and forth. Erin and Jacob harmonize in a corner, their voices louder than the instruments. And me? I cram onto a stool with Tim half on my lap, competing with him to tap out a rhythm on a single drum kit.

“It’s more like this,” he says, flying through a quick little rhythm.

To the untrained ear, it might not sound like much, especially muffled so we don’t blow everyone’s eardrums, but that quick patter of drumbeats sets my heart skipping. Such casual, unconscious skill lurks beneath every note.

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