“Seems like a week ago, we were packed up in a sketchy van, driving this same road to an even sketchier bar gig. I think there were maybe six people standing on the concrete floor in front of the guys. The rest of the bar was regulars who didn’t give a fuck if they were listening to live music or a jukebox. They sure as shit didn’t remember the band’s name by the time we started packing up the gear.”

“And now?” I ask, curious of his take on all of this.

I’ve known since Prague that Colton’s not just a security guard. I mean, he fully believed he could change the band’s minds about bringing me onboard. Knowing he’s been on the road with them since the beginning helps a piece fall into place.

“Now I can’t think about it too hard because…” His eyes sweep over to meet mine before his attention falls to the brush as I finish up his pinky finger. “Because every second of this life feels so surreal.”

“You talk like you’re a member of the band,” I say softly.

Colton whips out a grin made to destroy hearts and swaps hands. “Please. Adams wouldn’t be able to compete with me. My sexiness would tear us all apart.”

I roll my eyes, and he chuckles.

“Nah, I’d much rather experience the whirlwind from my perspective,” he says. “I get to go along for the ride, being proud as fuck of my best friend, and not feel the weight of the world crushing down on me.”

I nod, not needing to ask who he’s talking about. Only one member of the band has that kind of heaviness in his eyes. The other two surely have their own stressors and fears of their sand castles coming crashing down. Anyone in their position would. But it’s not them who look like they’re drowning, fighting off the waves.

“You and Adams were friends before then?” The name tastes strange on my tongue now, as if Adams North disappeared in a wisp of smoke the second I heard his words coming out of Foster’s mouth.