Page 50 of Heart of a Rebel

I’ve spent the last six years beside Eloise—at concerts, interviews, press junkets. Years managing every aspect of her life. Yet, somehow, sitting on this couch feels like the first time I’ve been in her presence in all that time.

“What are you thinking?” I ask, noticing her expression is pinched.

Eloise tips her chin up. “That I should probably be falling apart right now. Or, freaking out or something. But I just feel… calm.”

I’d like to think it has something to do with me being here, but just like it always is with Eloise, I know that’s wishful thinking on my part.

“I didn’t realize how much I was holding onto until I said it out loud, you know? I didn’t realize how much it was holding me back.”

Her eyes dart to the window as lightning strikes outside, brightening her cheeks in the dim light of the bus.

She looks back at me. “I don’t know if I want to keep doing this.”

“I’ll only be on your bus until we figure out the security situation.”

“Not that.” She shakes her head. “I trust you more than any of them anyway, so I get why my brother suggested it.”

Trust.

People really should stop handing that to me, because I’ve proven time and again it only ends in pain.

“I’m talking about touring, and all that comes with it.”

Her shoulders deflate, and I’m staring at what the guys have been avoiding since they started recording their last album—Eloise needs a break. She deserves one, they all do, so I shouldn’t be surprised. But a selfish part of me can’t imagine a world where I’m not constantly around her.

“The label knows things are up in the air after this.” I force a smile I hope she reads as genuine.

Eloise nods and reaches out for me, taking my hand where it’s sitting on the couch between us. It shocks me enough that I almost pull away because I don’t think she realizes the power her touch still has over me. How one brush of her palm on the back of my hand drags me straight back to the man who came home broken after eight years in the military. A man she helped find his way again.

“I’m going to get some sleep,” she says with a yawn. “But Adrian, thank you for always being there.”

I dip my chin.

“I mean then, and now.” She squeezes my hand, and I want to argue because I wasn’t there to help her back then and I’m only here now because I can’t fucking stay away.

But I keep my mouth shut and let her think whatever she needs to if it will help her get some rest.

As Eloise disappears into the back of the bus, a hole widens in my chest. I lay down on the couch and cover myself in the lavender blanket she left. It smells like a fucking garden, because even if she’s spent years hiding from the sun, somehow, she still manages to bloom.

I close my eyes and say a prayer for the first time in as long as I can remember. Hoping, whatever is up there hasn’t given up on listening. I wish, I will, I want, and I pray for so long I don’t realize I’ve fallen asleep.

That is until I wake up to screaming.

18

Eloise

“Whatareyouworkingon?” Adrian asks, stepping out of the bathroom.

I look up and instantly wish I didn’t. Because even fully clothed the man is a distraction with his still damp skin making his white T-shirt extra clingy on his broad chest.

“A song…” I set my pencil down and take a deep breath. “Or I don’t know. Maybe it’s a song. At least words are flowing again.”

Adrian looks from me to my notebook and smiles. “That’s good.”

If anyone knows how difficult songwriting has been for me lately, it’s him. When I stayed at his house recording the last album, I couldn’t put pen to paper. It was frustrating feeling like I was arguing with Sebastian over every lyric.

But today, I woke up with words flowing out of me.

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