Page 39 of Sustain

A lengthy silence follows, ambiguous noises rustling on the other side. Finally, Ian emerges looking distinctly more ragged than when he slipped off, his weak smile feels forced.

My brows knit in concern, hand trailing down his arm. “That was an awfully long business call for 3:00 a.m. I heard voices raised at one point. Is there trouble with the bands back at the hotel I should know about?”

“What’s that, love? Oh no, just uh...” He glances away, obviously still distracted, clearing his throat. “Just a minor scheduling kerfuffle is all. Riders are not being upheld properly, and shit like that. You know us musicians, everything’s a fucking crisis.” His chuckle sounds strained, and I don’t like this sudden change in him. He grabs his phone from the desk and takes it back into the kitchen.

My eyes narrow, my pulse picking up. Riders are always a battle, but I’ve never seen such caginess from Ian before. And after our intimacy just a little while ago, this shift feels awfullysevere like the blizzard wind still whistling through cracks in the windows.

“Are you sure everything’s alright?” I press gently. “I know I was...distracted earlier but please don’t shut me out from issues I should hear about, or things I can help with. We’re in this together.”

“Don’t fret yourself over my musicians throwing tantrums.” Ian pulls me into a loose embrace. “I’ve got the mess in hand. There’s nothing for you to worry over.”

As he turns, my gaze catches on his inert phone abandoned mid-counter.

“Your cell died?”

He pauses, his smile rueful. “Unfortunately, yes. I only had a few minutes of juice left. But the issue with the other openers is sorted now at least.”

I nod slowly, details not quite adding up. But suspicion breeds assumptions I remind myself. I need to stop thinking that way, especially about Ian. “Well, if you need help when our phones are fully functional again, I hope you know you can include me. We’re partners on this festival ride after all.”

Ian’s expression softens as he draws me in, thumb grazing my cheek. “Of course, love. You’ll be my first stop whenever things get thorny again.” The contact comforts me despite the lingering sense of disconnect when he pulls away towards the bedroom. “Shall we try for a bit more rest at least?”

I force a brighter tone to temper the disquiet left swirling in my heart in his wake. “If you insist. But don’t think you’re off the hook that easily, mister.”

I stirto the rumble of male voices by the front door. Forcing my bleary eyes open, I recognize Billy’s Santa Claus tenor mingling with Ian’s familiar lilt. I grimace up at the ceiling. Our snowbound days of blissful isolation are apparently numbered now, if not entirely over since it sounds like Billy says that plows have carved paths back to reality.

My pulse stutters at the prospect. Isn’t this what I ultimately wanted? To get back to the bands, to my responsibilities? My job?

I don’t want to go. Not yet.

Why does the mere thought of venturing back into the real world cause an almost violent reluctance? Just the idea of leaving this place, our sanctuary, makes me hesitant. I cuddle into Stormy who has apparently joined me in my late morning sleep, her soft fur a suddenly-needed comfort.

A gentle rapping sounds at the bedroom door before it cracks open to reveal Ian’s kind eyes, an unreadable cautiousness lurking just beneath.

“Good morning. Our intrepid rescuer Billy has braved fresh powder to check in on us. The roads are finally clear enough should we wish to...reassess our lodging arrangements. I just need to call him for a ride.”

The unspoken question hovers anxiously between us, and I can’t tell from his expression how he wants things to go now. Is it possible to live in this dream for just a few stolen hours more? Or do we need to submit to the real world remorselessly calling us back? I waver internally, wishing desperately I knew what Ian wanted.

But instead of wondering, I gather the nerve to ask him outright. “What do you think? Should I head back now that it’s clear?” My throat tightens as I ask, suddenly afraid that we’re not on the same page.

He moves to sit on the foot of the bed, reaching out to pet Stormy and avoids my eyes. “That’s your decision, Mackenzie. I can’t make that for you.”

His expression is unreadable, and it’s frustrating as hell. “But what doyouwant me to do? Do you want me to leave?”

Ian’s head snaps up, and he finally meets my gaze, his green eyes flashing. “Of course not. I’d love nothing more than for us to stay here together, holed away from the outside world. But I know how important your job is to you and understand if you want to get back to it.”

While my heart warms that he does want me to stay, he does have a point. I do want to do my job. At least, as much as I can given my current state.

“What’s the word from the promoters? Is the show still on?” That will help me decide what to do. If there’s no show, and it’s just paperwork and insurance cleanup, I can stay here. But if the festival is still going to happen, then I should probably get a move on back to where I’ll be most useful.

His shoulders slump as he releases my gaze as if he knows my decision. “According to Billy, the weather is supposed to break this afternoon. And the promoters say the show is still going forward tomorrow.”

My heart sinks, and I instantly feel guilty. I shouldn’t be upset that the show is going to happen. I should be happy. It’s what we came here for after all.

An idea hits me. “Why don’t you come stay at the hotel? With me?” A spark of excitement at the idea runs through me.

“Unfortunately,” he frowns, returning his attention to Stormy, “this one still needs to be tended to. Billy doesn’tknow of anyone missing a cat. And, well, he apparently knows everything about and everyone in this town. The people that live here permanently, which are few and far between, aren’t missing her. I can’t just leave her.”

The kindness in his tone as he looks at her sweetly melts my heart. Of course, he wouldn’t abandon Stormy. Not like I’m apparently about to. Something in me tugs at the thought of leaving both of them, but I also know myself. I won’t be satisfied hiding away here, no matter how much I want to. The old pull of my job feels wrong somehow, but it’s still there. Old habits die really hard.

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