Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

TRISTAN

Emily opened for me before I even reached the door. She looked so damn beautiful standing there. Her long brown hair blew in the breeze as she stepped out to greet me. I didn't give two fucks what was appropriate right now; I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her into a hug, letting every ounce of tension release with my exhale.

"Thank you," I said, taking in a long whiff of her flowery scent as if it were my oxygen. "You have no idea how nice this is, to be away from everything."

Her warm body was an intoxicating mix of comfort and electricity. She molded perfectly to me as her heart beat against my chest. I felt secure in a way I wasn't used to. Already this was a place I never wanted to leave.

She pulled back and led me inside. "Don't forget. You can't talk."

"Can I at least whisper?"

"Only if you have to."

Emily's mother's house was small but homey. The entryway had a coat closet off to the side. The living room had lots of windows and several plants. I immediately noticed a photo of Emily hanging on the wall. She couldn't have been more than thirteen. She still had the same small gap between her teeth, but the smile on her face in that image was different than her smile now-more genuine, less hesitant. The things that had darkened her smile were yet to come when that photo was taken.

Emily moved toward the kitchen, leaving me standing in the middle of the living room.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"I'm going to make you some tea with lemon and honey. It'll be good for your voice."

Couldn't argue with that. "Thank you. That's very sweet."

Being here was heaven. My life was divided between hotel rooms, tour buses, and my vast, but empty, mansion in L.A. Spending time in an actual, lived-in, welcoming home was a treat.

I lay back on the couch, appreciating the way my body sank into the cushions. Appreciating the quiet. I felt incredibly safe here, away from all my troubles.

Several minutes later, Emily brought me a cup of steaming hot tea. She placed it in front of me on the coffee table, and I could smell the lemon.

"Thank you. I don't deserve this treatment." After blowing on it, I took a sip, the water just hot enough to soothe without burning my throat. When I looked over at her, I caught her staring, which she often did. She turned away quickly. I loved catching her in the act, but it always made me wonder what she was thinking, whether she stared because she found me attractive, or if she was thinking something else.

I looked around. "I love this house. It reminds me of my own growing up."

"It's small but has a lot of character, although my mother would be freaking out right now if she knew you were here and she hadn't vacuumed."

As if I could notice dust when all I wanted to do was stare into Emily's green eyes. "You have no idea how much it means to be able to decompress here without anyone breathing down my neck."

She nodded. "I sensed you needed a hideaway."

"You were right."

"This was my only opportunity to give it to you."

I set my tea on the coffee table. "You once said you had a savior complex. Are you trying to save me right now? Because it's working."

"You don't need to be saved. You just need to understand that you're not perfect. And that's okay. You've accomplished more in your life than most people ever will. You deserve some grace and some peace."

" You're my peace lately, Emily. I feel more at peace knowing you're on the tour. For the first time in a long time, I look forward to seeing someone every day, having someone to talk to who won't judge me, someone who doesn't give a shit about my celebrity status. Everything's going to hell in a handbasket around me, and yet I've never looked forward to each day more."

Her gaze shifted to the floor, and I hoped I hadn't taken my honesty too far. I looked around, desperate for a change in subject. "When I lose everything, maybe I can get myself a place like this. It's more homey and comfortable than my place in L.A."

"It'll go well with your McDonald's plans."

I snorted. "Is there one nearby? I'd take you there, but it's way past closing time, isn't it? That would defeat the purpose."

"You're not gonna lose anything, Tristan. Even your worst is better than most musicians at their best."

I smiled. "Ronan says the same thing."

"He's wise."

"Either that or he smokes a lot of weed." I laughed. "Anyway, no wonder I keep both of you around. It's good for my ego." I squinted. "I thought you didn't even like our music. What the hell is happening there? Is it growing on you or something?"

"It's not that I didn't like it. I just wasn't familiar with it. But now that I've listened to it, I'm a genuine fan. Although, not the type of fan who'll tattoo your face on my body or keep a jar of your hair."

"Say what?"

She shook her head. "You don't want to know."

"I think you're right." I shifted on the couch. "So, tell me specifically what you like about our music."

Emily didn't hesitate. "I love how it's not just one thing. It's a blend of hard rock with alternative elements and a little pop."

"What else?" You're really shameless this evening, Tristan.

"You deliver every word with intensity and emotion. In combination with Ronan's bass and Atticus's timekeeping on drums, it's such great synchronicity. It's a reflection of the relationship you three have."

"Anything else?" I asked, beaming with pride.

"Yes. Lyrically, your songs aren't simple. Each one is well thought out, and there's a real vulnerability there. That's why so many people love you. Because they can relate."

"I don't care if you're stroking my ego right now. That was beautiful. Thank you."

I could kiss you for that.

I wanted to kiss her.

But I wouldn't.

Instead, I took a sip of my tea and shut my eyes for a moment. Both of us should be getting some sleep, but I was nowhere ready to say goodnight to Emily.

"Are you tired?" I asked.

"I should be, but I'm not."

"Neither am I. But say the word if you need to get to bed."

We talked for a while until she put her foot down.

"That's enough chatting. You need to rest your voice." Emily got up and disappeared down a small hallway before she came back with a blanket and a pillow.

"Do you think the couch is comfortable enough?" she asked.

"It's perfect." I'd have slept on a rock just to be here.

"We don't have any extra bedrooms. My mother turned my brother's room into her office and sewing room after he moved away."

"The couch is more than fine."

"Then I'll see you in the morning," she said.

I sat up suddenly. "Wait, what if your mother wakes up and finds me here?"

"I'll set my alarm so I wake up before she does. She usually sleeps in pretty late anyway."

Famous last words.

Because the following morning, I was woken by a scream.