I believe him, the shock from him seeming genuine, the hurt too. “Well, you clearly voiced something.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Concern. I told Heath you were acting off. Which he agreed. The subject shifts to Adams, and the vibe changes with you. In all the time we’ve worked together, not once have you missed a deadline. Hell, Heath wanted to come himself to scorch earth based on those things alone. The interviews with Adams are essential, whether you’re giving the middle finger to Mac Records or not. It’s a scene you, of all people, should be salivating over. But you’re putting it off and giving flimsy excuses.”

The fight leaves me because he’s right. Even though I’ve refused to focus solely on Adams from the beginning, before Prague, a day-one nonnegotiable shot was his interview.

I look away, suddenly feeling responsible for the mess. Maybe not directly, but I fed them every reason to go down the path. “So, Heath went to the label?”

“After checking with Glory and Nate if they noticed anything, yeah. Well, I checked with them. Can you imagine if Heath called those two, demanding answers? Can you imagine Heath not losing it on everyone when it comes to you? His heart might not beat, but whatever powers him is protective as fuck of you.”

“The lifeblood of innocents, mostly.”

He huffs a laugh, and I return my gaze to him, his still serious. “I have no idea what was said to their manager. They wanted someone on tour, and I offered. Heath threatened every facet of my life and bought me a ticket here.”

“Sounds like him,” I whisper.

Xander studies me before a half-shrug. “Tell me what you would have done, Rem. With everything you’ve experienced around this industry, I know the answer isn’t pretend to not notice.”

I can’t disagree from his perspective, but I own the full story as to why I acted differently about Adams. Because Adams is Foster. And Foster is a direct link to what I’ve spent so long avoiding at all costs. Even now, the tightness creeps into my chest, my muscles bunching, mind bucking against the possibility of going there.

But Foster’s also where I want to be. He makes me wonder if I can say the bad aloud and tell him why I left the way I did. All the regrets and stupid decisions and the weight of them.

I almost attempted to on the bus when I couldn’t stand the idea of him not being on the other side of the curtain. Then I choked on the words, and he kissed me.