Page 19 of Drag Me Down

My brows raise. “Of course.”

I slip his phone out of his pants, bunched on the floor.No fucking security lock. Oh, Z.I scroll through the eight contacts he has in confusion. I can’t help but notice he has over a hundred missed calls too, which is worrisome as fuck for the small amount of numbers he has stored. I text myself Selma’s contact information, then I hit the call button on my phone as I stroll out of the hotel room in pursuit of drugstore supplies.

“Who the hell is this?” Selma answers.

I chuckle. “Goodness, you’re frightening. It’s Mykhail Koval with Atonement. Z asked me to give you a call. He’s out of commission this weekend.”

“Is he in trouble?” Her voice is strained, and I’m thankful Z has at least one caring person in his life, whether he realizes it or not.

“He’s safe with me. Should I notify anyone else about him coming down with a bug?”

There’s a long pause on the other end. “Z’s probably going to kill me for this, but I haven’t even admitted to him that I’ve figured him out. You have to promise me you won’t tell him I was the one that let the cat out of the bag.”

Worry sluices through my veins. “Okay. He isn’t like… a mass murderer or something, right? Please don’t tell me I put my band in that kind of trouble.”

Sondra isn’t even phased by my question. “Do you remember Visage? They hit the music industry hard about five years ago.”

“Shit, yeah. They were about to make it big, and then they fell off the face of the planet.”

Liam and I used to fanboy over their djent breakdowns, well-written lyrics, and masked identities…

“Oh, fuck,” I utter, hand tugging at the longer tendrils of my hair. I mean, Z’s good. But there’snoway. Muting the phone, I click into Google and search for images of the lead vocalist. With his oversized black hoodie and bandana with a skeleton design covering his nose and mouth, it would be hard for anyone to determine his identity, but I recognize those dark curls and unmistakable iceberg eyes.

It feels like a dirty secret discovering him this way. Forcing myself to breathe in and out, I switch back over to my conversation with Selma. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because the last time he skipped out on collecting tips, I didn’t see him for two years. You managed to earn his trust enough to get my number, which I’ve threatened him against handing out. There was quite a fuss about his disappearance years ago. I’m not sure why he’s still hiding, but just take care with him. Don’t mention you know who he is.”

A potent mixture of curiosity and guilt battle for dominance in my head. I crave more truths about Z, but I can respect his privacy, especially when I know how precious that can be. Almost everything I do is blasted out into the limelight.

Just thinking about how detrimental it would be if it got leaked that I was questioning my position in Atonement has me determined to keep Z’s secret. To protect him. How betrayed would Malek and Griff feel? They’ve been like brothers to me. And Sondra and the crew? My decision would affect all of them.

Not to mention the fans. Would they be disappointed? Or would they understand? Would they allow me space to explore music in other ways? Or am I fated to forever hold the title of metal god and nothing more?

“Thanks for trusting me,” I say when Selma asks if I’ve hung up on her. “You’re still my favorite Brit.”

I catch her calling me a kiss arse right as the phone cuts off.

Once my basket at the drugstore is filled with Gatorade and medicine—thanks to the pharmacist’s detailed rundown of options after I gave him an autograph and a picture—I check out. Then I swing by a Mediterranean restaurant to purchase soup, vegetables, and grilled chicken.

To my frustration, Liam catches me strolling through the hotel lobby. He’s dressed down in navy cargo pants and a form-fitting gray henley, his dark hair half twisted up into a knot. He’s unnaturally good at the laid back sexy look. It’s criminal, really.

“Hey,” he calls out, tipping his chin up. “We’re all headed out to get some grub. You coming?”

I lift my bags, and his eyes narrow at the contents. “Got plans tonight. Next time for sure.”

He shrugs off the questions I see swirling in his dark gaze, never one to judge when he’s got a random stranger in his room almost every night of the week.

A little wave of nerves washes over me. What will Liam think when he realizes who I’m hiding away? I know Sondra told me to inform the others about Z, but I can do that when they get back from dinner. If I told them now, Griff and Malek might be tempted to crawl into bed with Z to dissect him with a thousand questions. Z needs sleep.

Returning to my hotel room, I place the food and groceries on the table and wander over to the side of the king bed. My chest tightens as I listen to the sound of Z’s gentle snores. I’m not really sure what the fuck I’m doing or why I’m not being as open as I normally am with the others. Chalk it up to a mid-life crisis or something.

But part of me doesn’t want to give this a label just yet, no matter the undeniable weight of it in my life. My brain is still trying to figure out what I want. How my future will look when Liam’s no longer on tour with us.

And the other part fears judgment. What if the others don’t understand my choices? I’ve chased approval for so long; how do I handle shifting gears now?

Perching on the side of the bed, I work to delicately tie up half of Z’s hair to keep it off his forehead like Stasi used to do for me when I was sick and our mom couldn’t be bothered. She always had too many obligations at the country club or with her bunko group.

Retrieving a cool cloth from the bathroom, I brush it against his flawless skin, drawing it down the length of his elegant neck. He moans, cracking an eye open. Seemingly satisfied with what he sees, he closes his eye once more.

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