Page 62 of Where Happiness Begins
“Am I the last one here?” I ask as I drop my bag where the others have left their stuff, then join them on the couches. Even though I’ve spent a lot of time with them, without Carter here, it almost feels like I’m intruding in their space. I’ve lost my tether.
“We’re waiting for Bong too,” Ethan says. “He’s nevernotbeen late, so might take a while.”
I shrug, then look around the place I’ll be calling home for almost a month. This bus is huge, with a modern design and brand-new appliances. As you enter the bus, you find a kitchen that’s bigger than what I would’ve imagined and a living room. A set of doors separates what I assume is the bedroom with all the bunks and bathroom. I wasn’t expecting much when they said we’d be traveling by bus, but this is nice.
“Want to play Spades before he gets there?” Joe asks. “Bong always cheats anyway.”
“Facts,” Emmett says.
We all join him for a game, and a quarter of an hour later, we spin toward the door when it creaks open.
“Bong, get your ass up here before we leave you here!” Ethan shouts.
Except it isn’t Bong’s head that appears at the top of the three steps leading into the bus.
“Carter? The fuck are you doing here, man?” Ethan says as he gets up to clap him on the back.
I’m too shocked to react one way or another, not sure I should even believe what it is I think is happening, until Carter’s gaze falls on me and remains there as he says, “Got some new ideas. Thought we could do some recording between shows.”
He’s here. He’s really here.
I can’t control the smile I throw his way, and when the right side of his mouth curls up, I feel like I’ve just won the lottery.
“Someone was scared to miss all the fun?” I say when I finally find my voice, shifting my body to the left so he can have a place to sit.
“Sure,” he says as he takes a seat next to me, the entirety of his right side pressing against me. His body is stiff, and as he looks around the bus like I did a few minutes ago, I recognize traces of panic in his breathing.
“Hey,” I whisper. “It’ll be okay.” I can’t begin to imagine how it feels for him to be on a tour bus after what happened on his last one, but this won’t be the same. “I’m right here with you.”
He nods tightly as he lets out a deep exhale. Meanwhile, I continue staring at him like he’s something from another world. I’m not sure I believe his excuse for being here—maybe he realized it’d be weird if I was here without him and that’s what made him change his mind—but honestly, I couldn’t care less.He’s here.
If I wasn’t this euphoric at the thought, I’d probably think about how worrisome it is that I’m sorelieved that we won’t be apart for three weeks. He’s not my real husband. Not even my realpartner.
I’ll worry about it another time.
I’m probably still smiling like a lunatic because Ethan gives me a look, brows high. I shrug, pretending I have no idea what he’s thinking. With the way I’m acting, everyone’s probably noticed the tiny, senseless crush I have on Carter, but so long as I don’t acknowledge it, it doesn’treallyexist.
“Whadup, people!” Bong’s voice says as he steps inside the bus, a beanie hanging from his head and kid floaties around his arms. “Who’s ready to party!”
The band does some mix of eye rolling and grunting.
“I don’t even wanna know,” Emmett mutters with a shake of his head as he walks to the front of the bus. Then he shouts, “All right, Pete, let’s roll,” probably talking to the driver.
Meanwhile, Bong drops his stuff next to ours and takes a seat on the couch, then pulls a small plastic bag from his sweatpants pockets. “Anyone down for some Addys?” He proceeds to pop a pill in his mouth before passing the bag around.
Ethan takes one and so does Joe before it reaches Carter. He doesn’t even peek inside, only swinging the bag toward Emmett, skipping me entirely. “We’re good,” he says.
I give him a look, then say in a low voice only he can hear, “What if I wanted to take some? Hallucinate some funky stuff later?” I wouldn’t have, but I’ll say anything to ease the tension off his body.
His lips twitch, and he fights it all of two seconds before his quiet, discreet smile he reserves for me appears. Bingo. “That’s with shrooms, honey, not speed.”
Right.
“Don’t need to be taking any of that shit anyway.”
“And why not?”
“Think you have enough energy sober,” he teases, and honestly, I can’t even contradict him. Then he nudges my thigh with his long, tattooed fingers. “And I’m not messing with your health.”
