Page 99 of Extended Bridge

“Look how well it went for him. And as for you, Miss Black Widow. Your nickname is now stuck like glue.”

I wince, shoving guilt downward.

“Hey,” Bennett sticks up for me. “She’s innocent in all of this. If you hadn’t meddled in the first place and made me go to her for physical therapy, she would be back in Aroostook living her life.”

Boring lifeI amend. Because life with Bennett is anything butdull. Filled with angst, true, but not dull. Not to mention passion. And love. So much love.

“We’re getting nowhere,” Luke’s resigned voice fills the air. “Meet me at the hotel.” The call disconnects.

I join Bennett in resting my head on the headrest, staring at the limo’s ceiling. Without moving, I say, “Kinda like one of those reality shows on television.”

“Yeah,” he replies, equally keeping his head unmoved. In a fake broadcaster voice, he says, “Join us for another season ofFucked Up Island. Where lies lure you in and paternity tests await at every corner.”

Despite everything going on, I giggle. “Sounds like you have a big hit on your hands.”

His face swings toward mine. “I only want to play music and see the world through your eyes.”

A buzz tingles through my body at his earnest declaration. I turn my face to him. “We’ll get there.”

“When?”

“Soon.” I hope.

Without the traffic from earlier in the day, the limo soon arrives outside our hotel. Bennett thanks the driver while I scoot out and onto the sidewalk. Behind me, he hops out of the car and stops stock-still, his face a mask of pain.

His groin pull. I race to his side, not wanting to draw any attention to his upper thigh, especially in a public area. Lowering my voice, I instruct, “Wrap your arm around my shoulders and let me take the brunt of your weight. As soon as we get to the room, I’ll ice it and help you work this out.”

A second later, his arm snakes over my shoulder. To the outside, we appear to be a couple in love. Which, I guess we are. However, I’m the only person on earth who knows his muscle throbs with each shuffle he takes. I keep as upright as I can, considering I’m assuming a large portion of his weight.

The doorman opens the door for us and we maneuver inside, notnoticing the ornate foyer or clerks standing at the ready along the wall. “Let’s get you to the elevators.”

“I can do this.”

“Of course you can,” I babble. “You can do anything. You’re the lead singer for one of the hottest bands in the world.”

He stops. “One?”

I almost collapse, knowing his sense of humor—and trademark cockiness—is returning. “There’s Hunte. The Light Rail. Backdoor Clouds. Plus solo artists like Cole Manchester and Ozzy Martinez. So, yes, one.”

“You know how to wound a guy.”

“Keeping it real.”

We continue down the hallway toward the elevator, with Bennett holding more of his own weight. He even shakes out his right leg, not too hard, another good sign. Keeping our heads down, we get on the elevator with a few other people, none of which seem to notice us. We’re the last to disembark.

A grim-faced Luke lurks in the hallway.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“You look like shit.” Where’s the affable Luke I’ve come to know?

Bennett’s responds, “Fuck you.”

“He aggravated his injury,” I supply.

The manager sighs. “Great. As if we didn’t have enough to handle. Let’s talk in your room so you can get checked out.”

The three of us make our way to our room—no more pretenses that I’m sleeping anywhere else. Once Bennett’s changed into shorts and I’ve evaluated him, he sits on the sofa with an ice pack. True to his word, only then does Luke begin. “I’ve been in contact with our PR team. They liked the presentation you guys gave during the Louisville show, but it obviously isn’t enough to counter the shitstorm from today.”

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