It seems my mind and body have surrendered to reality. Just my fucking heart still holding out.

“What were you playing the other day?” Colt drawls. He has an arm draped over his eyes, the other tucked under his head. “You’ve been humming it whenever you think, and now it’s stuck in my head.”

I half-smile. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

His eyes might be closed and covered, but I’ll bet my career they rolled anyway. “Just fucking play it.”

Reaching over, I cancel the voice note of silence and restart. I restart the rest of me along with it. Because nothing about this song feels heavy. Not a damn bit of it scrapes.

Not anymore.

I shut off the recording after playing through once, press send, then settle in, working it for another hour. By the time we resurface, Colt’s the one humming the song while I organize lyrics in my head.

* * *

Coming off the stage a few days later, I snag Remi and kiss her. Right there at the bottom of the stairs, my blood pumping and the crowd still screaming.

Fuck, it seems too perfect. Being where I belong, onstage, and then feeling settled by being with her the second I walk off. I need it to last—need her to stay.

“Hi,” I say, and she grins.

“Hey.”

“You need to go be a sexy director with your crew before I get you?”

She typically meets with them for a breakdown of what they filmed, anything they missed she needs to account for at the next concert. I have to share her until she boards the bus. And I suck at sharing.

But tonight she shakes her head. “I passed it off to Xander for the rest of the tour.”

“Puppy?” I ask. “I didn’t know he could do that trick.”

A nod. “Told you he’d be useful.”

I smile and press my lips to hers. “I’ll be sure to tell him he’s a good boy. Maybe I’ll even throw a Frisbee for him.”

As Remi laughs, a member of the tour’s crew snags her attention. Audio, I think. She goes to talk to the woman before I reclaim her and head to the dressing room.

Dev and Felix have enough time on us that I pull her to me outside the door, leaning back against the wall. She sinks into my chest, face tilted up as she gives me a look.

“What?” I ask, sliding my hands to her ass.

“You could get your own dressing room.”

My lips twitch at her suggestion. “Why would I do that?”

“So you wouldn’t feel a need to avoid it after a show when Felix or Dev or both are either snorting coke or fucking women. Or both.”