Page 7 of Forever and Ever

“And this is big?”

Going on another tour?

Leaving rehab?

Finishing an album?

Something more personal?

I don’t ask him to elaborate.

“Let’s hope so.” Noah smiles, but unlike the ones I’ve been used to all morning, this one is darker, and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

I’m not sure when he got so close, but I have to tilt my chin up to look him in the eyes.

I haven’t worked for the band long, just the past week as we prepare to go out on tour. But from what I can tell, Noah isn’t as guarded over his personal space as the rest of the members seem to be.

There’s Sebastian, the lead singer, who is a total disaster. Rumor has it he wasn’t always such a mess, but I’m not convinced. When he’s not wasted, he’s high. And he’s pissed off one hundred percent of the time, so I avoid him.

Then there’s Eloise, Sebastian’s sister and the bass player. She’s friendly enough, but she keeps to herself, so I don’t have much of an opinion.

And finally, there’s Rome, The Riff King, as the press likes to call him, covered in piercings and tattoos. His lap is never empty, and I steer clear. Because although he seems happy to be in every girl’s personal space, I have no interest.

I take a step back and turn my body away to break Noah’s stare, scanning the sketches on the wall once more. The look in Noah’s eyes goes a lot further than what I’m used to getting from guys who just want to fuck me, and I need to shut that shit down.

The last thing I need is Noah forming some kind of attachment just because he thinks I’m pretty. That’s all on the surface. If he dug deeper, he’d learn the truth. And he’d get too close to things I don’t want him, or anyone else, near.

I didn’t take this job to make friends or find a boyfriend. This is a stepping stone in my career. That’s it. The line is drawn, and I’m not crossing it.

“We’re ready for you.” A man with tattoos from his scalp to knuckles slaps Noah on the back of the shoulder and gets his attention.

Noah nods at him, then looks at me. “Coming?”

I shake my head.

“I’m good, I’ve got some messages to catch up on.” I grab my phone out of my back pocket and wave it between us.

A hint of disappointment crosses his face, but he doesn’t argue as he turns to follow the man into the back.

It’s better this way.

Just like Noah’s at this tattoo parlor to mark a big moment in his life, I need to do the same. This tour, this job, this year—It’s the start of something new for me. I'm going to embrace it. And I’m going to do it all by myself.

2

Noah

Theremightaswellhave been a whole lifetime before rehab because I feel resurrected walking onto the plane and facing the band again. It’s only been two months since the tour ended and Adrian shipped me off to get my shit together, but it feels like a lot longer.

“Back from the fucking dead,” Rome says, walking up to me and throwing a tattooed arm around my shoulder.

If only he knew how true that statement is. I might have a sixty-day chip in my pocket to prove I’mwell enoughfor them to release me back into the world, but I can still feel the demons knocking around in my head.

“You know it.” I plaster a time-perfected grin on my face.

I’m clean, it should be enough. One can only hope.

“We missed you,” Eloise stands and pulls me into a warm hug. My arms wrap fully around her tiny frame, and even though I’m not sure if I’m ready to be back in my life quite yet, there’s something comforting about reconnecting with the band that feels like home. After all, they’re the only family that means anything to me anymore.

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