Page 13 of Resist

It was all for the cameras.

He was doing it all for them, and now that it’s over, he’s back to acting like nothing happened and it meant nothing to him.

It meant everything to me. Looking into his eyes like that wasn’t an act for me. It was the truth. The way I touch him, orbit around him, isn’t a performance to me. It’s the truth hidden behind actions. How can he touch me like that and feel nothing?

I turn and stalk away, needing some quiet time to myself. I make my way to a glass-covered walkway that connects to the next building. Leaning against the railing, I stare out at the city as the sun shines on it. I think I liked things better before.

Yeah, we were flirting and acting, but it was for us and no one else. It didn’t feel so wrong, like my feelings were being exploited, used, and sold, packaged for the masses.

Shit, I shouldn’t complain. This is everything we want, but it hurts so much.

“Hey, brother, are you okay?” I glance to my left as Strike leans into my side, handing over a water bottle. I accept it with a grateful nod, sipping it as I stare out at the city.

“I’m okay,” I answer. “It’s just?—”

“A lot?” He laughs, and we share a smile. “I guess we dreamed about it so much that it’s almost surreal. I thought it would be more . . . rock and roll, you know? But we should give it a chance. We get to make the music we want, so that’s something.” He nudges my arm as I smile.

He’s right. Strike has this innocent happiness about him that’s infectious. “True.” I turn to look at him. “Are you okay with it all?”

“With being adored and waited on? It’s so hard,” he jokes, making me chuckle as I look at the city once more. “Did you ever think we would be here?” he murmurs after a moment.

“I hoped so, but it doesn’t feel real yet,” I reply. “I guess we should get used to it.”

“Canyou get used to it?” I glance at him to see he’s serious for once. “I mean, this, how we are now, how you and Ry are now . . . can you adapt to it? Because if these new rules risk breaking up and losing our band, then I don’t want them, fame or not. All I want is for us to be happy and together as a family, making music. Whether that’s in empty clubs or sold-out stadiums, I don’t care. I just want us to be together.”

“I know you do.” I know Strike well enough to understand that all he wants is a family. He’s an orphan who grew up in the system, and he turned to music to find a way to forget, but he discovered that being in a band makes him happy. He’s told me many times how thankful he is for us. He’s our glue, always mediating our fights and keeping us together in a humble manner, so if I ask him to, he would give it all up as long as he gets to keep us.

It’s one of the many reasons I love this man like a brother. Tugging him close, I give him a hug. “I’m not going anywhere, and neither is Ry. We are all in this together, so we’ll figure it out.”

“But I don’t want you to hurt,” he murmurs innocently, fear in his eyes. “I know how you feel about Ry.” He peers up at me as I swallow. “I’m not blind, Fox. We all know. We don’t say shit because it isn’t our business, but I don’t want my brother hurting, not for any reason, so I’m not asking if you can handle this. I’m just asking if you are okay.”

“I’ll be fine,” I promise. “These feelings will go away. I don’t plan to act on them. I wouldn’t hurt us for my own selfish reasons.”

“And what about hurting yourself?” he questions. “You are willing to do that to keep us together?”

“I have been since I joined,” I respond truthfully. “Since I fell in love with that clueless idiot. Don’t worry, nothing will change. It’s us, remember?”

“Against the world.” He nods, and we both look out over the city, but his words roll through my head.

They all know . . .

Does he?

Does he pretend not to, or is he truly clueless? I don’t know which is worse.

“Are you guys ready? Apparently, we have to catch a plane.” We both turn, and I meet Ryker’s questioning gaze before I smile at Dash and Po at his side.

“Sure, let’s go.” I keep my arm around Strike, sensing his anxiety and wanting to ease it.

I’ll ignore this. I’ll keep us together. I won’t hurt them like that.

We are all damaged toys, and like our name, this is our sanctuary, but as I glance over at my bandmates, I wonder how this will change us.

What will we become now?

I send up a prayer that no matter what storm comes our way, we will weather it together because without each other, our dream means nothing.

I switch off the TV, letting the hotel room lapse into silence. The darkness surrounding me is only interrupted by my bandmates’ snores. Atlas Records, our label, put us up in a shared room after an interview in another city, and everyone else crashed once we reached it. It was crazy from the moment we signed our contract, and it was almost three in the morning before our heads hit the pillows—everyone but me. The rhythmic sound is as familiar as my own breathing, but it’s not enough to relax my troubled soul enough for me to sleep tonight.

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