Page 108 of Sycopation
He stretched and opened his eyes. The room was dim, but the brightness of the light around the curtains told him it was day—which meant he’d slept through the night.
He was also alone in bed. Alone in the room, too. Worry gnawed at him like hunger. He’d expected Zavier to be here. Maybe...maybe that wasn’t right. Except they’d not been too far apart since the start of the tour and rarely out of sight since they’d started their kinky relationship.
Then again, had the situation been reversed, he’d probably have given Zav space to sleep and recover. He threw back the sheets, and stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom.
There was nothing but hotel shampoo, lotion, and soap on the counter—Zavier’s toiletry bag was missing. The shower was dry. Hell, the toilet paper roll still had those folds the cleaning staff put into them. The gnawing inside Ray turned sharp and painful.
Zavier wasn’t here.
He could, however, be in the next room. No need to panic. Once Ray’d washed his hands, he made his way back into the bedroom, found his own luggage, and pulled out a pair of sweatpants. The door to the adjoining hotel room was open, and the other door cracked—an invitation. He pushed it open, hoping to find Zav.
But it was Mish curled up on the bed with her laptop. When she looked up, Ray’s heart dropped to the floor and he gripped the doorframe. Words didn’t come, not with that mixture of relief and worry and sadness flowing through Mish’s expression.
Oh god.
“Hey, hon.” Soft words. “How are you feeling?”
“Where’s Zav?” His voice was a mess. Too dry, too full of agony. He watched her like a hawk.
Shoulders dropped. “He went out for a while.” Same concerned voice. “He left a note.”
Fuck. Ray’s legs wobbled and the world wanted to crash down. “Anote?”
Mish could move fast when she wanted to, because she was off the bed in a heartbeat and wrapping Ray into a warm hug before he could even turn and flee into the room behind him.
“Sweetheart, no. No. It’s not like that.” She drew him into the adjoining room, and there were Zavier’s bags. Seemingly untouched, but there. “He was really shaken up by you—” She cut herself off.
He sat when Mish pulled him down to the bed next to her, and memories came back. Not of that night, but of waking up in the hospital and of Zavier’s explanation of what had happened. “He was shaken up by me nearly dying.”
A nod.
Ray closed his eyes. Yeah, that made sense. Couldn’t have been easy—and imagining himself in Zavier’s position onlydrove his pulse higher. He’d have been a fuckingwreck. Zav, at least, had control and poise.
Ray flicked his eyes back open. “I don’t even know what time it is. How long has he been gone?”
That was when Mish bit her lip and flushed, and all his fears poured back into him.
“Mish.” He didn’t quite recognize his own voice, because there was an edge he’d never managed before. “Don’t you fucking coddle me.”
She took his hands. “I’m not. I’m just as worried about him as I am you. You take the world on your shoulders, but you have us, and Zav. He... I don’t think he has anyone.”
“Except me.”
She nodded. “And he’d fight the world to keep you safe.”
Ray struggled with his heart and mind and soul. “How long, Mish?”
“Since just after he brought you here. He grabbed a shower and said he needed to think and he might be a while. He left you a note in case he wasn’t back before you woke.”
That was awfully like Zavier. Thinking ahead. Knowing how Ray might react. Ray rubbed his temples and glanced over at the clock next to the bed. Nearly three-thirty in the afternoon. Which meant Zavier had been gone almost an entire day. “I should check my phone. See if he called.”
Mish shook her head. “We turned it off because it was ringing off the hook. And if yours is anything like mine and Dom’s, your voicemail is full.” She rose, picked up an envelope, and handed it to him.
Too much to take in at once. He turned the envelope over in his hands. It was obviously the hotel stationery, and bore his name, written in precise, beautiful cursive. Who the heck wrote in cursive anymore?
Zavier, of course. Ray set the letter next to him on the bed. “Why...wait. Who’s been calling?” Then it hit him—the memories. The information Zavier had told him the day before in the hospital. Carl had drugged him. Theirband managerhad nearly killed him. “Oh my god. The press.”
“Yeah. The press. The record company. Lawyers. Your family. The cops—they came in person, and security let them in. But you were still asleep.”
