worries about me but it’s different.”
“Shelby. Look at me.” He waits until I comply, then trails his knuckles down the side of my cheek. “You’re not alone anymore.”
Chapter Thirty
Shelby
The next morning, I’m fighting tears as Rooster and I leave our hotel room and quietly walk through the silent hallway to the elevator. It’s early. If I hadn’t been woken by Greg’s text, I’d assume no one in the building was awake yet.
The sun’s barely peeking over the mountains and the sky matches my gloomy mood. At least the air is still cool. As my protest against the early morning wake-up, I’m still in my fluffy mint-green fleece jammy pants and a T-shirt with two lambs kissing on the front. In the name of decency, I slipped a bra on underneath my shirt and stuffed my feet into my Converse.
Jigsaw and Dex are parked next to Rooster’s truck, leaning on their bikes, sipping cups of coffee. Rooster rips a shrill whistle and they wave to acknowledge the greeting.
The three tour buses for Dawson’s crew and Thundersmoke line the edge of the parking lot.
Hmph. Doesn’t look like any of them are awake yet.
Our sad little van is parked along the curb. Rooster taps on the door and our driver, James, opens it. “Mornin’, Shelby.”
“Morning,” I grumble.
“I got her stuff,” Trent says, walking up behind us. He scowls at Rooster and I scowl right back.
Rooster doesn’t bother engaging.
“You leaving right away?” Rooster asks James.
“You got time.”
“Thanks.” Rooster rests his palm at the small of my back and guides me over to the truck.
“Morning, Shelby.” Jigsaw grins at me.
“Morning.” I nod at Dex. “Morning.”
“You stay at Chaser’s?” Rooster asks.
“We grabbed a room here earlier this morning.” Jigsaw yawns and stretches.
“Someone should’ve warned me he sleeps naked,” Dex says.
Jigsaw grins. “Nah, that was just for you, buddy.”
Rooster groans and steers me toward the tailgate where we have some privacy. I lean against the cool metal, trying not to look up at him or all the heartache gathering in my chest will pour from my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” He rubs my bare arm. “Are you warm enough?”
“I’m fine.” Such a lie. “The air feels good.”
“Talk to me,” he pleads.
“Rooster,” I whisper, finally daring to look up at him.
He stares into my eyes and I search his face, trying to commit every bit of him to memory.
“What, chickadee?” he says lightly.
I can’t fake the same light cheeriness. Not when I’m coming apart inside. “I’ll miss you.”
His smile fades. “I’m gonna miss you too.”
It seems so unfair to ask when he’ll visit. I don’t want to go months without seeing him again. I’d ask him to follow us onto the highway right now, today, and for the rest of the tour if I could.
He traces his finger over the curve of my cheek. “When can I see you again?”
His question unravels the tightly knotted ball of sorrow in my heart. “I don’t know.”
“You got your tour schedule?”
I release him and pull my phone out, searching for the document with all the dates listed.
“I have a copy I printed out at home somewhere,” Rooster mutters. “You’re headed to Virginia at some point, right?”
Thrilled he remembered, I scan the dates as soon as the document pops up on my screen. “Yup. End of next week.”
“Can you forward that to me?” He nods at my phone.
I send it and his phone pings a few seconds later. “Done.”
He brushes my hair off my cheek and leans down to capture my attention. “I have some business down in Virginia. Why don’t we meet up there?” He glances over at our van. “When you’re moving from show to show, you don’t have to ride in the van, right? I mean, are you doing special musical bonding stuff with the band?”
Sweet relief that we have a plan to see each other frees my spirit with laughter. “Not really. Sometimes we work on a song. Mostly everyone stares at their phones or sleeps.”
“So, maybe you ride with me for a bit.” He runs his hands through his hair. “I’m really not trying to fuck things up for you or invite myself along, but—”
“No. I’d like that, Rooster.” I try to control the excitement in my voice. “But I can’t ask you to drop everything. It’s not fair.”
The corner of his mouth curls up. “It sounds to me like we both want the same thing.”
“Is that awful of me?”
He leans down and brushes his lips over mine. “No.”
“What business are you up to in Virginia?” I ask.
“We have