Page 116 of Fire
“Inappropriate?” He fumes. “What he said wasn’t just inappropriate, Elena. It was inexcusable. No one talks about my wife like that.Ever.”
Her gaze softens, and she runs her hand through his tangled hair. I turn away to gather supplies, giving them a moment.
As I unlock the rolling carts, I think about his words, and it reminds me of that night at the gala when I stood there clutching my shoulder as the man glared at me, waiting for an apology.
It’s not even that Tanner didn’t stand up for me that bothers me the most. It’s that he’d worn down my self-confidence so much that I thought I didn’t deserve it in the first place. Regardless of who caused the encounter, I embarrassed him, and that was unacceptable.
That’s why I apologized.
Elena doesn’t need Zander to fight her battles, but she knows he would—without question—if she asked him to.
That is love.
That is what I want.
Maybe I already do.
“Come on, killer,” I tease. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
It turns out that whoever pissed off Zander not only gave him a bloody nose and a split lip, but also managed to give him a nasty gash on his left arm.
“How the hell?” I ask when I see it.
“Ring,” he mutters under his breath. “Ugly-ass ring.”
“Well, thanks to that ugly-ass ring, you’re gonna need a few stitches,” I tell him, causing him to groan and then mutter a few expletives. “Now, either I can do them or, if you’re worried about scarring, I can see if we can find you a plastic?—”
“Just do it,” they say in unison.
All righty then. Wish I could say this is my first time giving stitches backstage, but I’d be lying. This group is a rowdy bunch.
“What is the weirdest thing that you’ve had to deal with on tour? In general, since I know you can’t talk specifics.” Elena inquires as I start gathering the suture kit and lidocaine. She pulls up a chair and sits next to her husband.
“To be honest, I thought I would be doing a lot of STD testing, but surprisingly, everyone is pretty responsible when it comes to safe sex.”
“That’s Asher,” Zander explains. “Since Mitch, he really started running a tight ship.”
“I noticed.”
“Asher and the original members all grew up together. Cutting ties with Mitch was tough on them. I think Asher felt responsible because he didn’t see the shit Mitch was getting into until it was too late, and he had gone too far.”
“That’s not his fault.”
“It’s not,” he agrees. “But he still makes it his mission to keep tabs on everyone to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“That’s nice. It’s like a family.”
“We are a family, and you’re part of it, you know?”
I hum a noncommittal response because I don’t really know how to reply. Do I want to be part of their family? Yes. But Hendrix and I haven’t talked about what happens after the tour ends at all. It’s exactly what Elena warned me not to do—get swept up in the tour and avoid real life. But here we both are, avoiding thewhat happens nexttalk like the plague.
“And, uh, to answer your question…” I awkwardly segue. “I’d have to say this takes the cake.” Elena snorts as I start to clean the wound. “Sorry, Zander.”
We keep talking as I inject the lidocaine, then begin stitching him up once it takes effect. I ask about their time off last week. They say they chose to stay at home and barely left the house, just enjoying the peace and quiet. When I’m nearly finished, Elena asks about our trip to Seattle, and I almost falter.
They don’t know about Hendrix’s trip to the clinic.
They don’t know about the blood tests or the MRI, the ones that came back normal.
