Page 106 of Reverb
Zavier cocked his head. “Yes. But also no. I’m more myself with him, more than I’ve ever been with anyone else, if that makes sense.”
“Yeah.” It did. She took another sip of the whiskey, and the tightness in her chest eased. The tears came back. But Zavier was safe. A brother and a friend. “I don’t understand people, Zav.”
He huffed a soft laugh. “Welcome to my world. I’m not sure I understand Ray entirely. But he lets me be who I am—and lets me figure out who I am, too.”
“I’m sure you do the same for him.”
“I try.” He waved a hand. “I fail sometimes. I’m an asshole and overprotective and a whole host of things. I’m not sure why he puts up with me. But I want tobewith him.” Zavier folded his hands together. “No one was more surprised about that than me.”
She sank down on the couch next to him and threw back the rest of the whiskey. “David doesn’t know how he can be with me once the tour is over.”
Zavier seemed to consider this. “Lots of answers to that.”
“Mmmhmm. He had a reason why it wouldn’t work for all of them.”
Zavier opened his arms, and Mish accepted the hug. He didn’t offer them too much, but his hugs were some of the greatest.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” he said. “I know you hurt. If there’s anything I—or any of us—can do to ease that, you know we’re here.”
“I know. You guys are the best.”
They were hers, and if nothing else, she’d always have them to love and watch over.
Chapter Twenty-One
Every day hurt. There was an odd familiarity to that for David, similar to an old wound aching, though this pain was unlike all the others—physical and mental—that he’d experienced before. He was with Twisted Wishes on tour, walking the rounds at shows. Coordinating with site security. Working with Adrian and Marcella to keep the band safe. All the things he’d done before.
But the warmth was gone. That sense of belonging. He was an outsider, in a way he’d never been on day one. There was an air of pain and sadness in all his interactions, even with the other crew members.
He’d expected it, but it still hurt so fucking much. So did seeing Twisted Wishes perform in Chicago and in Detroit. Each show was phenomenal. Ray’s voice was stronger than ever. Mish still sang several of the songs, and she was glorious on stage. Glowing, triumphant. Beautiful. Everything he’d wanted but couldn’t have.
A true rock queen, with a heady life ahead of her.
He ached for a touch or a smile. But none was coming, not for him. That he deserved—he’d broken her heart. He’d broken his own, but that was better than pretending they could be more than a tour hookup.
Even if she had been the one person who’d understood him, both mentally and sexually. Who didn’t angst about his body. Who loved him for who he was, no strings attached.
There were always strings, though. They pulled against him whenever he read another email from Mish’s stalker—since the fucker had to gloat about his latest prize, stolen right from under David’s nose. Or saw the way the media interacted with the band or, for that matter, the way the fans did. They worshiped the ground the band walked on.
If he wanted to be himself, he couldn’t paste himself onto Mish’s life. Or Twisted Wishes. He needed to live on his own.
Plus, his interaction with Mish had only fueled her stalker—David was the reason the necklace had been stolen. To show that the stalker was the better man. She didn’t need to know that. Didn’t need David making her life harder by being close.
At each show, he ignored the voice telling him he was making a mistake, that he was walking away from something sogoodhe should be clinging to it instead. But the logical side of his brain told him this way was right. He was more focused now—seeing the things he should have seen before. People slipping line. Trying to get closer to the stage. Small things, but exactly the shit that put the band in danger.
He’d been a fool to think he could be all business and still pal around with the band. Or date Mish.
He missed her so damn much, even when he was only a couple of feet away.
They’d made it through the rest of the shows, though, and were back in New York City. There was a concert tonight, then the band were guests for a night show taping the next day, then that was it—at least for David. Twisted Wishes would take a break, and when they went on the next leg of their tour, there’d be someone else watching over Mish and the band. Someone more competent than him.
Ray’d promised David a decent referral, despite everything. “You’re being too hard on yourself,” Ray’d said. “You were doing a fine job.” He said nothing about Mish, though every word spoken, every movement Ray made, was marred with hesitation and sadness.
Adrian was the only one who managed a smile around him, but even that was strained. He shared the texts and emails with David. Talked strategy. As expected, a photo of the necklace had been sent in. Nothing had changed.
Everything was different.
During the New York concert itself, David was on the left side of the venue, monitoring the entrance to the stage as Domino’s guitar wailed over Zavier’s drums and Mish’s bass. Ray belted out another anthem and the crowd was dancing and screaming. David didn’t blame them. Twisted Wishes was perfect tonight—a fantastic hometown show.
