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The sky is ink-black above us, scattered with stars. Stone buildings loom above the streets, all wrapped in ivy with wrought iron balconies and pale Roman pillars, so different from the white picket suburbia that I’m used to at home.
Dex took my hand to lead me from Jefferson’s suite, and he still hasn’t let go, our joined hands swinging between us as we walk.
Well, I’m not untangling our fingers. If we’re playing intimacy chicken I’m sure to win, because there’s not a single touch I don’t want from the guitarist.
“So. Are you staying with us for the rest of the tour?”
Is that a note of hope in his gruff voice? No, that’s probably wishful thinking on my part. I stare down at my black leather boots, splashing along the puddled sidewalk while I search for an answer.
It’s not raining anymore, but it’s not dry either. There’s a freezing, autumnal mist in the air, and the streetlamps make the tiny droplets of water burn gold. My unhappy face reflects up at me from the puddles, my features warping as ripples spread across the surface.
“I was supposed to.”
Back before Jefferson lost interest in me before he really began. And how much longer am I gonna follow along after this sperm donor? It’s pathetic.
Honestly, if it weren’t for Dex Kincaid, I’d be long gone already. It’s not my father I’m here for anymore—it’s his band mate. Not that I can admit that out loud.
Dex is quiet for a long time. His boots thump against the cobbled sidewalk, twice the size of mine. He’s so big, prowling along the darkened street by my side. It’s a strange city after nightfall, but I’ve never felt safer.
“You shouldn’t wait around for Jefferson,” Dex says at last. His voice is a low rumble, like the earth shifting beneath my feet. I feel it inside my bones. “He’s gonna disappoint you, London.”
He already has. “I know.”
Now we’re both silent, tangled up in our own thoughts. Cars purr past along the shiny, wet street, and the faint sounds of music spill out of a nearby bar.
Is he telling me to leave? Telling me nicely that I’ve outstayed my welcome?
I press my lips together and suck in a long breath through my nose. I can do this. I can bow out with grace.
“If I’m in your way—”
“You’re not.” Dex never cuts me off, but he does it now, and he looks thunderous as he glares down at me. “Don’t even think it, London. I swear to god. We’re lucky for even five minutes of your presence, and as long as you want to be here, you’ll be welcome. I promise you that.”
Warmth spreads through my chest, despite the cool breeze tugging at my collar and slipping up my jacket sleeves.
I squeeze Dex’s fingers. He squeezes mine back.
“I came all this way to meet him, but I don’t really have a father, do I?” We’ve stopped walking. The wind whips escaped strands of my hair across my face, and I tuck them behind my ear, annoyed. “Not in the ways that count.”
Dex grunts, and he glowers at a passing car like he wants to screw it into a ball like crumpled paper. Like he wants to squash it into a cube between his big, calloused palms.
“You don’t need one, baby girl. You’ve got me.”
…Um.
I inhale so sharply I choke on my own tongue. And as Dex pats at my shoulder blades, watching me cough and splutter, a flush crawls up his neck.
“I don’t mean—it’s different. Obviously.” Pat, pat, pat. “I’m not your—and I wouldn’t want to be.” Dex sighs, loud and long at my raised eyebrows, and steps away from me, finally letting go of my hand. He scratches behind his ear.
“Give me a break, London. I’m just saying: I’ll take care of you. I’ll protect you, and I’ll watch your back. You won’t ever have to lie awake at night wondering whether anyone cares, because you’ll already know the answer: I do.”
Huh.
My chest is raw from coughing, but I still manage a wobbly smile. And this time, when my hair blows free and dances across my face, it’s Dex who tucks the strands behind my ear.
His touch is gone as quickly as it came, my frozen skin tingling in his wake.
