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Taylor hesitates, then nods slowly before dragging me back to the passenger seat. “Alright. You research, I’ll drive. Let's go.”
He doesn’t waste another second, because we both know this isn’t something that can wait.
As soon as I’m buckled in, I yank my phone from my pocket, trembling fingers navigating to Instagram. The band’s page loads slow as molasses—of course it fucking does—but when it finally pops up, I scroll, heart in my throat.
The last post was from two days ago.
First leg of the tour! Tokyo bound. Photo credit: Salem Peterson
That caption pulls the air out of my lungs. The band smiles for the camera, standing before a plane. I swipe to the next pic, and the next. All photos of different landmarks in Japan, vibrant images showcasing their trip.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, dropping the phone onto my lap. “She went. She's gone.”
And she changed her last fucking name.
Taylor glances at me as he white-knuckles the steering wheel. “So what now?”
I meet his gaze, hope finally sparking in my chest for the first time since I woke up in that hospital bed all those weeks ago. “Now… I go get her.”
Chapter
Forty-Six
Salem - Four Months Later
Fuck, Australia is hot.
The heat clings to my skin no matter how many cold showers I take. Sweat soaks my bra, hair pulled up in some sad excuse for a bun to keep it off my damp neck. The goddamn lens on my camera keeps fogging up between shots.
How do people live here?
I snap another picture of the opening act during their practice set as stagehands run wild around me. Tonight's our first show in Melbourne, followed by Brisbane in two days and then Sydney after that. Last week we were in the UK.
I've spent the past few months traveling to places I've only ever dreamed about, meeting so many different people, and trying so many different things, but…
I can’t stop thinking of home.
It'll be Thanksgiving back in the States soon. We had all planned a “Friendsgiving” at Matty and Xed’s, but I'll be spending it in the land down unduh’ alone and sweating to death.
This job was supposed to be a dream come true. Instead, it feels like a nightmare.
The music grows loud when the openers finish their rehearsal, some local band I've never heard of. I line up one last shot just to give myself something to do. Technically, I don't need to photograph or film anyone except Symbiotic, but without the camera in my hands, I'm tempted to do things I shouldn't.
Like recheck my phone for the millionth time, hoping one of the guys or Arya has reached out somehow. None of them even know my new number. I haven't logged onto my own socials to check on them since before Logan—
My hand automatically clutches the ring between my breasts as I cut off that thought. Nope, not going there. Not thinking of anyone back home if I want to survive this tour.
“You alright, love?” asks a voice to my left. I turn to see Lux, Symbiotic's keyboardist, stepping up beside me. He comes off disarming with his dazzling azure eyes and panty-melting smile, but it's all a front. From what I can tell, nobody in this band is safe. Something dark lurks beneath the surface of every single member. Especially Ren, the bassist. He follows the lead singer around like a lost puppy, but their relationship seems toxic. And don't even get me started on Vince, the band manager. That guy gives me the absolute creeps.
“Just dying of heat stroke,” I answer, forcing a grin. “You Aussies are built different.”
Lux laughs wickedly. “I’m from New Zealand, sweetheart. We’re built better than Aussies, thank you very much.”
I roll my eyes, but the smile on my lips is a little less hollow this time.
He gives my arm a playful nudge. “You wanna talk about it?”
“Nothing to talk about.” I clear the lump in my throat and grip the camera tighter. “Pre-rehearsal photo op?”
