Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

NATE

NEW YORK TO CHICAGO

F or me, the day after a performance is always a letdown. Especially when I was hungover. And when I'd only had a few hours' sleep, and I had to get right back on the road.

And when the one person I wanted to talk to, to be with, was busy working so far away.

I felt that one most of all.

Tommy. A roadie who worked tirelessly, on stage and off. Thick black hair styled in an undercut, whiskey eyes, and twin dimples I couldn't resist. Not to mention decadent lips, calloused hands, and a husky laugh that I could listen to for hours.

It's crazy how one night can change everything.

I'd had plenty of hot, casual hookups, but there was something about me and Tommy that was different. It wasn't just our sexual chemistry. He was protective and possessive of me. Not just in bed, but the morning after. We'd gone out for breakfast, and I was cold, so he insisted I wear his leather jacket. Me being the stubborn, independent man I was, refused at first. Until he kissed me soundly and I found myself giving in to his bossy charm.

And I'd been a goner ever since. Part of me knew that this was something special, from the moment he'd touched me in that club to the moment we said goodbye. No, not goodbye. Neither of us had been able to do that.

I could still hardly believe it. I was falling, hard and fast, and that realization should've sent me running.

But two months had gone by, and despite moving in opposite directions, miles apart, we couldn't let go of this connection between us. If anything, the wanting was getting worse. Text messages and phone calls could not replace the real deal. But the rational part of me knew that Tommy and I would continue to veer off on different paths. My band was hitting the mark, launching our music career. And he was busy with Wayward Lane. And sure, we'd cross paths again, but for how long? And why continue with something that would lead nowhere?

My heart was already in dangerous territory. One more step and there'd be no getting out.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't hear my bandmate, Otis, slide onto the couch beside me. Until he nudged me with his elbow and grabbed the bag of chips that I'd nearly crushed in my hand.

"What?" I asked him, grumpy as fuck.

I should've been on top of the world today. Instead, I was tired, horny, and missing Tommy something fierce.

"Can you believe this is our bus now?" Otis commented. "It's fucking awesome."

With our record deal came a decked-out tour bus. One that had a living room, a kitchen, and plenty of space to sleep. The perks of signing with a label. But I was too much in my head to enjoy any of it.

"So, you and Tommy, eh?" Otis muttered and slapped my thigh with his free hand. "Give me all the deets."

I turned to my best friend, unsure that I should say anything at all.

"I can see the two of you together," he continued, then opened the bag of chips and shoved a handful in his mouth. "You're fire and sass, and he's cool and quiet. And I can't blame you at all. He's hot as fuck with that ripped body and those tattoos. I'd pay to watch that man work anytime."

I glared at Otis, and he laughed in turn, a spray of chip crumbs flying out of his mouth. Some days I swear, we were twenty-four going on fourteen.

"He's not quiet. And I don't know what this is," I confessed, running an agitated hand through my tangled hair. "It was one night, Ti. One incredible night. And for some reason, I can't let it go. But I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."

"Obviously, it's more than sex. You like him."

"I do. That's the problem."

"Have you told him how you feel?"

I shook my head and sighed.

"We talk about everything, except that. How do I even start? ‘ Hey, Tommy . I want to see you exclusively. Oh wait, we won't be in the same city for more than a day or two, every two months. Do you mind waiting for me? ' Right."

"Come on, now. We're not gonna be on the road every month of the year. Our new home base is Nashville, just like him. And outside of the tours, you can still see each other."

"What if he doesn't want that? I mean, I want that. Just him. Fuck, I haven't been with anyone else since that night, but he might not be the same. What if this is all me?"

Otis choked on a chip and began to cough.

"You okay there?" I asked him, patting his back.

"Fine, fine," he rasped and reached for a bottle of water. "Just never imagined you could go two months without."

I gave Otis my favorite finger, but he just smiled at me. With his long, curly hair, full beard, and many, many piercings, my friend was fierce. Not just in appearance, but in spirit.

"If you really want a relationship with Tommy, tell him. See what happens. Don't let him walk out of your life ‘cause you're scared."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "That's real interesting coming from you. You get hives if the guy you fuck asks for your name."

He shrugged his shoulders. "But that's me. Not you."

"It was me. Before I met Tommy."

"Aw, my bestie is fallin' in love!" Otis shouted.

"Shut up, you're gonna wake the guys," I hissed.

I was hoping like hell that Xander and Heath wouldn't remember the phone call from last night or I'd never hear the fucking end of it. They'd probably text Brodie and the rest of the guys from Wayward Lane, and news about me and Tommy hooking up would spread like wildfire. Not that I wanted to hide, but maybe Tommy didn't want anyone to know.

After that night with Tommy, I was honestly too overwhelmed to say anything to anyone. And I assumed he was the same. But Tommy did seem anxious to get off the phone last night when my bandmates interrupted the call. Like maybe he wasn't comfortable with them knowing.

A painful knot formed in my stomach.

Then I remembered that Tommy promised to call today. If there was one thing I knew about him after two months of communication, it was that he was a man of his word.

"We had a long night," Otis muttered. "Go get some sleep. Then call your man."

"He's not mine," I grumbled, getting up.

"Pretty sure he is, if that lovesick face he had on last night was any indication."

"What?"

Otis tugged his beard and winked at me. "I may be allergic to the ‘ L -word' myself, but that don't mean I'm out of touch. I saw his face. That man has it bad."

My heart took off running. Sleep? No way that's happening now.

Still, I had a few hours to kill until Tommy called me. Might as well try to rest, since we'd arrive in Chicago tomorrow, and with two shows lined up, it was going to be busy.

I made my way to the back of the bus, to my bunk, to the right of the aisle. Otis had the one above me, with Heath and Xander on the other side. There were two more bunks, but they were empty. Our manager, Kasey Roan, was flying out to Chicago ahead of time, not riding with us. I really didn't care if he stuck around. He was slick, with a polished air that set me on edge. I hadn't heard anything horrible about him; it was just an intuition I had. But, being new to the label, we didn't want to start making trouble over nothing. If he was honest with us, I was good.

I pushed the curtain aside and flopped down on my bed. My phone buzzed, and despite being tired, I reached for it. Fast. But it wasn't Tommy. It was Kasey, informing us about updates to the schedule for the next few weeks. I'd be back in Nashville in over a week, and I couldn't fucking wait. Then I remembered that Wayward Lane was taking a break in January to work on their next album. That meant that Tommy was going to be in town at the same time as me.

Without pause, I texted Tommy.

Nate: I'll be back in Nashville on the 9th/10th. You around?

I waited a few minutes for a reply, but when none came, I put my phone under my pillow and tried to ignore my disappointment.

"Get over yourself. The man's working. Go to sleep," I mumbled to myself.

Closing my eyes, I did some deep breathing exercises and finally felt my body relax. Between the darkness of the bunk and the motion of the bus, I finally drifted off.

Until I heard the telltale buzz of my notification, and suddenly, I was wide awake. I tapped on the screen and smiled when I saw the message.

Tommy: I am. And I'm already getting our date set up. You, me, and no interruptions.

Nate: I can't wait

I was so fucking excited about seeing Tommy again that my cock was achingly hard in my jeans.

Nate: Are you still calling later?

Tommy: Definitely. I'm almost done here. Call you in two hours.

Two hours? I was counting down every second.