Page 3 of Let Me Love You (Excess All Areas 5)

With aching ribs, Ben gingerly shoved his gadgets in his backpack and waited to step off the private jet that had flown them through the night to Manchester after the first leg of their American tour. The sun was out, unusual for April in Manchester, and Ben grabbed a pair of sunglasses from his bag.

He knew the pain in his body would go, but the video of evidence of what had caused it would be online forever.

Chaos went on around him. Cabin bags were being packed. Shit thrown across the aisle at each other. Had anybody seen a hoodie? Were their bags being taken into the terminal or put straight into the car?

Their energy was high, despite the all-night flight. After years of struggle, the band had finally made it. From touring up and down the UK in a van that Ben, a former mechanic, kept on the road, to touring America in a style he hadn’t yet become accustomed to.

Ben didn’t care about the details as he pulled his dirty blond waves back from his face with a hair bobble. One of Chaya’s, his best friend. Former best friend. Whatever she was. He couldn’t think of her now. They’d barely spoken since their texts on Christmas Day.

She’d done what she promised not to. She’d pulled away from him. Immersed herself in her life with Asher.

And he’d thrown himself into bouts of drinking and hooking up with random strangers when loneliness overwhelmed him.

His head pounded, the sun was too fucking bright, and even the luxury of a well-equipped private jet hadn’t changed the fact he hated flying and couldn’t sleep on a plane.

“Yes,” Luke, the band’s drummer said, dipping his head to the window. “Willow and Zale came to meet the plane. He had a shit night, apparently, so she took him out for a drive.”

Zale had been the result of Luke’s one-night stand with Willow, the American social media influencer. Somehow, they’d turned it into the happiest of ever afters.

Jase, their lead singer, hurried down the aisle, bag in hand. “Can we get the doors open? I’ve got ninety minutes before Cerys leaves for work at the recording studio, and I want to see her.” Jase and Cerys, the daughter of famed music producer, Jimmy Bexter, had met when they’d worked on their last album in Detroit.

“Is Iz working today?” Ben asked Matt, the lynchpin of the band. It was Matt’s song writing and perseverance that had gotten them as far as they had, and he also played a mean bass. His fiancée, and Luke’s sister, Iz, worked as an events planner and part-time at a homeless shelter.

“No. Day off. And the builders just finished the renovations, so the house will finally be dust free and we can move in.”

Envy so visceral that the bite was almost as painful as his ribs stabbed right through him. Everyone was making progress in their lives. Iz and Matt were engaged and had bought a double-fronted Victorian fixer-upper. Four bedrooms, Matt had said, because they wanted a big family.

Jase and Cerys were the same. Engaged at Christmas and recently moved into a large modern detached property in an exclusive neighbourhood in Didsbury Village.

Luke and Willow were up to their eyeballs in caring for a newborn while being on tour, but everyone was thriving. Iz had been staying with Willow to help out while Luke was away.

As the thought of Luke’s ongoing obsession with looking at houses online passed through his head, Ben’s brother, Alex, stepped out of the bedroom at the back of the jet with his girlfriend, Zoe. She’d flown out for the end of the tour as soon as her university semester had ended. The pair of them looked rested, and Alex signed something to Zoe, the talented percussionist, that made her blush.

Whatever she signed in return had Alex laughing. While she could speak fine, having lost her hearing recently they’d sign when they didn’t want to be understood by anyone else.

Knowing his brother’s kinks far more than he’d like to, he’d bet that they’d gotten up to all kinds of mischief that went well beyond simply joining the mile-high club.

But his own life was freestyling backwards.

It had been for one hundred and eight days.

Since Alex had broken the news to him that Chaya was engaged.

“We’re heading to the centre to check in,” Alex said, slapping him on the shoulder, way too chipper for Ben’s gloomy mood. “Do you want to come with us?”

Alex had started an arts centre, Simply Create, to ensure all local kids in Manchester had access to the arts in an LGBTQ+ safe space. While his brother was pansexual, he’d fallen in love with Zoe, and they’d built it together.

Together.

Fuck. What a word.

“No, I’m good. Home. Bed for a few days.”

Alone.

Because Chaya was no longer his…even by their definition of what it had meant before she met Asher.

It was stupid to think there’d always be a him and Chaya. Until there wasn’t. Until Asher wormed his way in, telling her that their relationship wasn’t healthy.

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