The private jet smelled like leather and money. We boarded through a side gate, no crowds, no flashes, but Eli still felt it. The engine hum. The smell of jet fuel. The way the ground vibrated.
He started pacing the aisle before we even taxied. Humming loud. Hands flapping. "Too loud. Too loud."
I pulled him into my lap. "Hey. Breathe with me. In... out."
He tried. Couldn't. Takeoff hit and he lost it completely, screaming "Down! Want down!" rocking hard, hands clamped over his ears. I wrapped around him like a shield. Rocked with him. Whispered train routes, Amtrak from Chicago to Seattle, stops in Denver, Salt Lake, Portland. He clung. Shook. Cried into my neck.
Across the aisle Syd watched. Smirked. Leaned into Cal. "Kids are so dramatic, huh? Cal hates noise like that."
Cal didn't answer. Just stared out the window.
She kept going. Sat between him and Jake, played cards with Holland, winning on purpose, laughing loud. "You boys never learn. Remember that game in Austin? I cleaned you all out."
Holland laughed. Forced. "Yeah. You cheated."
"Did not. I'm just better."
She massaged Kei's shoulders when he rubbed his temples. "Tension headache again? Poor baby."
Kei gave a tight smile. Didn't pull away.
I looked away. Focused on Eli. On breathing.
Mid-flight turbulence jolted us. Eli finally crashed, headphones on, asleep against my chest. Holland slid into the seat across from me.
"Hey," he said quiet.
"Hey."
He rubbed his neck. "Zariah's been blowing up my phone. She's worried sick about you."
I managed a small smile. "She's the best."
He nodded. Looked down at his hands. "I've loved her forever. Since we were kids running around the same block. But this life... the road, the tours, the bullshit. It kills love. I don't want to drag her under with me."
I swallowed. "She's strong. She'd fight for you."
"I know." He looked at me. "You holding up?"
"I'm terrified," I admitted. "LA feels like a trap. Eli won't adjust. And Cal... he's not who I thought he was."
Holland exhaled. "Cal's not bad deep down. Just broken. Give him time, but don't wait forever. You deserve more than waiting."
I didn't answer. Just stared at Eli's sleeping face.
We landed in LA. Limo waiting. Blacked-out windows. Eli pressed his face to the glass as we drove through Beverly Hills, palm trees, gates, houses bigger than my old apartment complex. Cal's estate sat at the end of a winding drive, security gates, manicured lawns, infinity pool overlooking the city. Mansion. White stone. Glass walls. Home theater. Gym. Guest wing bigger than my whole life.
Inside it echoed. Cold marble floors. Art on the walls I didn't understand, abstract splashes of color that probably cost more than Eli's meds for a year. Eli clung to my hands. Wide-eyed. Overwhelmed.
"This isn't home," I whispered to myself. "It's a stage."
I carried Eli to what was supposed to be our room, huge bed, white linens, ocean view through floor-to-ceiling windows. He sat on the edge, swinging his legs, staring at the floor.
"Hadley?" he asked. "Is this forever?"
I knelt in front of him. "No, bud. Just for a while. Until things calm down."
He nodded. Didn't look convinced.
