Page 8 of When the Stars Rise
Bespoke LED chandeliers dangle from the ceiling, and tonight, a velvet bed will be surrounded by candelabras and videos playing inside the window frames.
Noah greets the guys from the band, and I stand back while they bump fists and exchange bro hugs.
“Where you been, man?” Aiden asks.
Noah hooks his arm around my neck and pulls me close as if his nearness will soften the blow and take the sting out of his words. “Just got back from skydiving in Fiji.”
“Your life is sick,” Liam says, his voice tinged with jealousy.
“New video up yet?” Aiden checks his phone as if he’s planning to watch it right this minute.
“Nah. I have to do some more editing before I upload it. We got a shitload of amazing footage, though. Should be good.”
“Where you headed next?” Jules asks.
I swear, these boys are obsessed with Noah. He has the kind of lifestyle that people dream about. Not me. I would never in a million years want to do the things he does. But the more adventurous types envy his life.
Noah is an adrenaline junkie. Skydiving, cliff jumping, bungee jumping, rappelling down waterfalls. You name it, he’s done it. He’s a travel vlogger, extreme athlete, model, and videographer with millions of followers and lucrative sponsorship deals that pay for his lifestyle. He also produced and starred in two of my music videos.
I might be biased, but I don’t think there’s anything Noah can’t do. Except for one thing. He can’t quit.
I tune back into the conversation when Noah says, “Not sure yet.” But he’s giving me the side-eye. A telltale sign that he knows but doesn’t want to say it in front of me.
“We’re gonna get out of here,” Aiden says.
“Dean, we’re heading out,” Jules calls.
Once they’re gone, Noah turns to me and opens his mouth to speak, but Dean interrupts.
“So we’re stuck with you for the rest of the tour, huh?” He lifts his Saints ball cap, runs his hand through his hair, and replaces the cap on his head. Even in a ball cap, faded denim, and a black T-shirt, Dean still looks like a rock star.
Maybe it’s the tattoos. Or the world-weary, jaded air about him like he’s seen it all, done it all, and got the T-shirt. Either way, he looks like someone famous.
“Looks that way,” Noah says. “Just a heads up. You’ll be seeing my family in two separate cities.” He winces as if it pains him to deliver the news.
I’m not surprised. The McCallisters are a big, warm, loving family. They go out of their way to support each other, but sometimes Noah finds it smothering.
“Oh joy,” Dean deadpans. “You know how much I look forward to seeing your dad.”
“He feels the same about you,” Noah says with a laugh that sounds more like a sigh.
“So, I guess we’ll be seeing Shiloh?” I try to keep my tone light but fail.
Our family dynamics are so fucked up, and you can trace it all back to one thing.Me.
Dean gives my shoulder a squeeze, trying to reassure me. “You know she loves you, sweetheart. It’s gonna be okay.”
“For you? Or for me?” My hazel greens meet his. I look a lot like him. Brown hair. Hazel eyes. I even inherited his dimples. But I inherited my talent from both of my birth parents—DeanandShiloh.
“Me and Shy are good,” Dean says. “We made our peace.”
I nod slowly, not sure if that’s true or if he’s just trying to make me feel better. “Okay.”
The rift between Shiloh and me is my fault, and our relationship is strained because of my choices. I hate that it’s like this, but I’m not sure how to fix it.
“Let’s get going,” I tell Noah and then to Dean, “I’ll see you at the house.”
He nods and pulls his phone out. “I’ll tell Chris to bring the car around. Make sure you get some rest. And eat something,” he calls after us when Noah grabs my hand and leads me away.
