Page 15 of Resist

We can be friends and bandmates; that isn’t a problem. I never crossed the line with him—hell, I don’t even know if I wanted to or just enjoyed the chase—so I stay away, but as he speaks, my eyes drift to his lips.

The actress’s bed I just left feels far away, all that momentary pleasure fading as I look at him. It messes me up inside. I don’t like guys, but I like him. I want him but I don’t.

“The Dead Ringers have a . . . problematic past, but they are a huge name in the industry, and this tour is all anyone can talk about. It’s a big deal and our chance to push you into many rock lovers’ hearts. They are the perfect fit, and it’s a great way to welcome you into touring life. You will have a bus and travel with them. Some nights you will stay in hotels, and others you’ll be on the bus. It will be long and hard, but it will be worth it. I promise. We need to prepare some new songs to be ready by then, and we will rehearse twenty-four seven. Understood?” Po explains.

For a moment, Fox’s eyes drift to me. “We can do that, can’t we?”

Dash and Strike nod, but I know he’s speaking to me. I don’t spend time with them if I can help it. It’s just too hard. I know they wonder why, Strike even cried one night when he was drunk and begged me to tell him what they did wrong so they could fix it. I never wanted to hurt them.

I just wanted to protect them.

Po is right. This is good news. It will give me a chance to fix everything between us and drive us to the top, where we belong. I don’t understand my feelings for Fox, but I can have this with them . . . with him.

“Of course we can. We’re Sanctuary.” I smirk. “Let’s do it, boss man.”

“Then let’s do it. You have today to celebrate. I’ll pick you up bright and early tomorrow for an interview to announce your tour.” Po stands. “Good job, guys. You’re killing it. Remember the rules. No arrests or headlines tonight. Behave as much as you can.” He eyes me, and I smile.

When he leaves, Dash and Strike hurry out. Fox stands and heads my way, his eyes locked on me. I can’t breathe or move as he advances on me.

Being the center of Fox’s attention is all-consuming. He’s just that strong. “You better be there in the morning. This is important.”

“I will,” I murmur, my voice hoarse.

His hand drifts out, and I swear my heart skips a beat. I lean in, hoping he’s going to touch me like the old days, but his skin doesn’t even touch mine as he grabs my designer shirt.

He lifts it, righting it for me. “The scratch marks were showing,” he says, his voice cold and distant. I glance down and see he’s right. She must have done a number on my back as well as my front, and for some reason, I want to apologize, but he’s already gone.

I feel like I’ve betrayed him somehow.

They say actions speak louder than words—so what are his actions saying, and why does it make my heart clench so painfully that I struggle to breathe?

Have I finally lost Fox?

TEN

“Oh, come on, please, Fox,” Strike whines, placing his hands together in a prayer as he pouts at me. “One night to celebrate. Your lyrics and scribbles will still be here when you get back. You don’t even have to drink.”

“We have to be up early for the interview. You guys can go if you want to,” I mutter, focusing on my notepad. Don’t they understand I need to work? I have to write songs so we can keep growing.

“Fox,” Ry snaps as he turns from the mirror where he was fussing with his hair. I don’t know why. It always looks perfect. Heading my way, he places his ring-covered hands on my arms. “This is great news. We should celebrate like we used to—together as a band. Po is right. This is important. It’s our chance. Don’t you want to celebrate with us? We worked so hard for this. Come on, it will be like old times.”

My heart skips a beat then slams in my chest as I stare into his eyes. It’s the closest we’ve been without a camera on us in ages. I can smell his whiskey scent and feel his warmth. My eyes sweep over his stunning face, desire pooling low in my belly as I remember the way it felt pressed against my chest as he slept.His smile drops, and he glances at my lips as if remembering as well, and my gaze moves lower, watching his Adam’s apple bob.

My eyes drop to his partially opened shirt, and I see the scratch marks there, making my heart go cold. The desire and want I felt disappear, so I steel myself and glare at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, no doubt sensing the change in me.

At this point, I’d rather die than admit that I’m in love with him.

I eye his hands on my arms, and he leans back, removing them. “Please?” he cajoles. “Just a few drinks, some music, and then we’ll come back. No getting drunk or misbehaving.”

I scoff, not believing him. He doesn’t know how to control himself anymore. He can’t lie to me.

“I promise,” he begs, standing next to Strike and copying his pose. Dash quickly joins in on his other side. “Just us tonight to celebrate how far we’ve come. Don’t make us go without you. We’re a family.”

I want to ask when we became a family again, but the hope in their eyes is my undoing. I don’t want to make them sad or disappoint them. This is big news, and they are right. We should celebrate. It’s not their fault I have feelings for that idiot.

“Fine, give me five,” I mutter as I stand.

---