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“Guten Abend, Berlin! How ya doing?” Leo hollered into his mic.
The audience screamed their response.
Day three of the tour, and energy levels were sky-high. We’d barely stopped, flying out to Germany for the first set of gigs, and tomorrow, the tour buses would take us to France then down into Spain. It was a buzz. Every stadium had been packed full, and so far, no risky shite had been sent to test us. Leo wasn’t heading out on the town every night or hitting up the clubs. He had interviews to give and industry shite to manage in theafternoons but mostly wanted to chill with his family. Viola and baby Torran were doing fine, both adapting well to being on the road.
Finn was the only one I worried about.
He wasn’t allowed to stay up for the whole gig but insisted on being there with his da as long as possible. For the past two evenings, he hadn’t slept until Leo was back in the hotel room and cuddled around the boy in his bed. After midnight each time. It had meant a lot of late nights and a cranky kid the next day.
None of the family had expected this, so we were adjusting on the spot.
We watched until Leo’s second song came to an end, and I tapped Finn’s shoulder. He pushed my hand away, so I crouched until I was face-on with him. In the pit just below the stage, we had space to breathe.
Under my grip, he turned to face me, his chin stuck in a stubborn slant.
I pointed to the wings.
Finn gave a resolute headshake.
For fuck’s sake. I wasn’t above putting him over my shoulder and carrying him out, but I needed the lad to trust me. Gesturing to Gordain, his grandpa, who waited in the wings on the far side, I held up my phone. Then in front of Finn, I typed out a message so the boy could read it.
Valentine: Can you send us gig pics every ten minutes? We’re going to chill on the bus.
The older man read it and peered over. I pointed to Finn, and Gordain sent a reply.
Gordain: I’ll keep you posted. Leo’s safe with Jackson, Ben, and me here.
I showed Finn, and he darted his gaze to the side. Then the wee lad yawned big. Tiredness was clearly affecting him, but he needed to keep his da safe.
My heart, an organ that I thought had been broken completely, ached.
Reaching out an arm, I brought the boy against me and lifted, waiting for any kicking. Instead, he slumped on my shoulder, tucking his head to mine. I didn’t miss the front row of fans taking us in, cameras raised. Leo and Viola never shared pics of their kids, but they were out there. It was unavoidable.
The security team at the back of the stage let us pass, and I carried Finn deeper into the corridors in the bowels of the stadium, announcing our movements to Ben via my earpiece. The sound changed to a muffled roar, and Finn slid off his headphones, his hand drooping over my back. At the rear exit, a guard gave us access to the lorry park, and I trekked over to the family’s tour bus, the door opening with a hiss once the reader scanned my fingerprint.
Inside was dark, neon-blue strip-lights along the floor that led through the kitchen to a lounge area. On the couch, Raphael put his finger to his lips then pointed to the depths of the bus. Viola and the bairn were sleeping, then.
I carried Finn through and eased him off my shoulder to the sofa.
He blinked drowsily then sat up. “Your phone?”
I took it out, explaining to Raphael. “Gordain’s going to message with POL pics.”
POL was proof of life. Not that I was going to explain that to Finn. On cue, one came in. A picture of Leo back to back with his guitarist. Finn soaked it in then slumped.
I snagged a blanket and tucked it around him. “I’ll wake ye if one doesnae come in.”
The lad nodded. His eyes closed, and his head dropped back. For a minute, the two of us bodyguards just watched him until we were sure he slept.
“He’s not enjoying this,” Raphael said quietly.
“Not at all. He’s scared shitless.”
Then I tested Finn, just to make sure he was out cold. “I’m going to grab a carton of chocolate ice cream. Want in?”
Raphael smiled, catching what I was doing.
Finn didn’t move, his lips parted in sleep.
