Close call. Only one day would have me saying no, and it’s next Sunday. I need to be in Texas. Nonnegotiable.

“I’ll be there. I’ll ask Felix and Dev if they’re available as soon as we’re done here.”

She sighs. “Thank you. I owe you, Adams. There are donation goals and incentives for reaching them, and adding you or the band will let us aim higher.”

She owes me nothing. Even after this, I owe her for life. “No problem, Sav.”

“Okay, then. The marketing team has slow-dripped the artist reveals on social media, so they can announce whoever still. You and Heartless will be the last ones. There are more details, but I’ll send the number for the woman in charge,” she says. “And I’ll send it to you directly, so I know you receive it.”

“Message me who to talk to, and I’ll make sure it gets handled. I’m sorry about all the assholes. If you ever need anything else, skip them and let me know. Directly.”

She laughs. “Deal. You can make it up to me by playing an unplugged ‘Haunted’ for an incentive.”

I can’t help a hint of a smile at the request. “I can make that happen.”

We say goodbye, and Sav sends me the coordinator’s info as I swing around the corner of the bus. But I barely shove the phone in my pocket, let alone track down Felix and Dev, before reality crashes in. Remi steps off the other bus, turns, and we immediately lock onto each other.

Fuck.

She looks exactly the same as when I saw her earlier. Right here in the parking lot. Except nothing feels the same, like a filter flickered out, revealing what it covered. I clearly see again. My armor’s been reforged and reinforced.

I stride toward the front of the bus, her steps erasing the rest of the concrete until she’s right in front of me, both of us in front of the open door.

“Can we talk?” she asks, eyes flicking inside.

I shrug. “Does it have to do with filming?”

She shakes her head. “No. Did Christian tell you what happened? Foster⁠—”

“Adams,” I interject.

Remi jerks back like I slapped her. “What?” When I don’t respond, she blinks up at me. “You can’t be serious. You think I complained to the label about you guys? You know me. I’d never…” She trails off when my gaze lifts, and she glances over her shoulder to Xander, grinning like a douche as he exits the other bus.

“Your assistant looks like he might need you. Maybe you guys can talk about how much he missed you.” Before he reaches us, I add, “So we’re clear, I don’t know you—not anymore or ever. And you chose to not know me. It’s time we both remember it.”