Page 119 of Unleashed By Eden

Best show I’ve ever played. But without her with me, it’s still one step short of what it could’ve been. A fucking masterpiece.

I hand my baby off to the tech, and a towel hits my palm a second later. The tour routine, down to muscle memory.

Liam and Chris are waiting, both grinning. Liam hauls me into a hug, arms tight around my shoulders. “We fucking did it,” he growls into my ear. When we break apart, there’s a loaded moment where we look at each other. We know what it cost both of us to get here. What’s still on the line.

Chris claps my back. “Epic fucking show, man. End of a goddamn era.”

I let out a laugh and roll my shoulders. Thank fuck it’s over. Ten months of airports and hotel rooms, running on caffeine, nicotine, and maybe two hours of crap sleep at a time. Not to mention the constant cameras in my face and no whiskey. It hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park.

The only part that made it worth it is fourteen hours ahead of me, probably sitting at home thinking I dropped her without looking back. That she blew this up. She couldn’t be more wrong.

I’m not fine without her. Offstage, I’m barely holding it together.

The guys start filtering toward the green room, shouting at each other, still riding the adrenaline. Someone tries to hand me a beer, but I bat it away without looking.

“Last of the media,” Liam says, looping an arm over my shoulders and steering me toward the press room. “Stay on script, don’t wing it.” His gaze flicks to my cheek. “Makeup first, though. Sweat’s eaten through the bruise cover. I don’t want close-ups of my handiwork everywhere.”

“I know,” I grumble. I’ve been drilling answers all day for every possible question they can throw at me. I’m done. All I want is to walk out of the loading dock, hijack the nearest black SUV, and tell the driver to gun it to the runway, so I can get on our plane and fly straight to Sydney.

“Then we show our faces at the wrap party, shake hands, and say thank you.”

“Fuck me,” I grumble, rubbing my eyes. “It’s never-ending.”

Liam squeezes my shoulder. “Almost done. Then you go do what you need to do.”

Chapter thirty-four

Carter

“Fuck.”

I crack the SUV window an inch. Icy air blasts in, and I suck it deep into my lungs.

“You good, Carter?” Security in the passenger seat checks on me in the visor mirror.

“Yeah, man. All good.”

I can’t sit still; my anxiety is suffocating me. Anyone watching would swear I was high. I’m not. I’m stone-cold sober and crawling out of my skin.

I’m done waiting.

Didn’t sleep a second last night. After the wrap party—speeches, hugs, top-shelf booze everywhere—I paced my hotel room, wearing a track in the carpet with not a drop of liquor in my system.

I had music up, TV on, lights off, then back on again. Nothing loosened the chokehold on me.

I finally got my phone back from Chris, and at 3 a.m., I cracked and called Vi.

All I got was the automated, lifeless voice stating the phone was switched off or disconnected. Either her phone’s off or dead. Probably both—it’s Vi.

I did what I had to do at the party last night—grabbed the mic, thanked everyone, did the whole “couldn’t have done it without you” spiel. I half-assed it, completely fake. The crew looked happy, though. Liam, Chris, and the guys were the only ones who could see my heart wasn’t in it.

The crew deserved a thank you. That’s the only reason I went. These people carried the weight of this whole tour on their backs, and I owe them more than a disappearing act.

The SUV jerks to a stop outside the PrimeTime+ headquarters. Security is out before the engine dies, my door swinging open to a slap of wind.

“Cheers,” I mutter, stepping out into the icy breeze. I slide on my coat and blow into my hands. No matter how long I’ve lived here, it’s still bitter as fuck in winter. Aussie boys were not built for this.

The SUVs behind us pull up, too. Kai, Theo, Xander spill out, followed by Chris and Liam.