Regardless of how invisible the crew and I tried to be, we showed up in frame from time to time when the band wore the glasses. Several times when it was me popping up, Foster looked like he might be spacing out, but his body was angled toward me, his gaze in my direction.

Heath missed something, though.

I watched Foster too.

While in the background, with or without a camera in my hands, my eyes would flit to Foster.

Then there are moments the lens captured us looking at each other. One of us first, and then the other. Our gazes often held, and the tension is palpable between us every single time. Whether harsh, hot, or longing, it threads us together, pulling and pulling.

“You said you haven’t looked at anyone else since you heard my name again.” It comes out softer than I intend, and I look down. “That wasn’t in Prague.”

His lips have turned up when my gaze returns. “I never said it was. I just couldn’t let myself believe it was really you until I looked offstage that night. Even then, I couldn’t.”

I hate the screen between us. Between me and his cutting blue stare. His touch. His everything.

“Foster?”

The words crawl from my soul, where they’ve lived, to my heart, where they started. But before they finally reach the place they were always destined to be, his gaze flicks up. He groans a second later and gives a sharp nod.

“Sorry. Christian thinks he needs me for something. Tell me what you were going to say first.”

I flash a smile. “Just that I miss you.”

“You have no fucking clue, my beautiful thing. I’ll talk to you after we pack up for the night.” His eyebrow lifts, his smirk devastating. “You can reward me for being a good boy and completing my interview.”

Then he’s gone, and I’m on the floor in my tiny apartment.

Every part of me desperately aching for the wandering boy I’ve always loved.

45

FOSTER

We’ve been writing almost nonstop for the last week.

Even our day off, we spent it with our heads buried in the music. We’re in a groove, and the end is in sight. And not only for the album, but for the tour.

More than ever, I want to finish, so everything can be Remi the second we walk offstage. She’ll have it rough convincing me to sit for our last interviews unless a lot of seducing is involved. So, not all that different than the other ones.

We’re on the bus outside tonight’s venue when I check my phone and see the text I’ve been waiting for the last several days. A smile tugs at my lips, and once I watch it through, I nod at Dev and Felix on the couch across the aisle.

“Colt break.”