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AndIdon’t particularly want to dwell on why that is.
Thegroup of fans finally leaves us, making a beeline towardCaleb, who’s busy signing a woman’s tits.Shehasn’t taken them all the way out, just pulled her shirt down low.Anylower, though, and her nipples will be on full display.Notthat seeing nipples during our meet and greets is out of the ordinary.
BeforeBeauhas a chance to bring upShae,Jasmine, our tour manager, descends on us.She’sclutching her ever-present tablet, which likely has a copy of our schedule on the screen.It’sher job to keep us on track while we’re on the road, and thank god for that.Becauseapart fromZac, none of us are particularly organized.
“Youhave ten minutes left here, then half an hour to get to the airport for your flight home,”Jasminesays. “Trynot to getdistractedby any guests.”Sheraises her brows and purses her lips.Sheknows us too well.
“Don’tworry, we’ll be good,”Isay, fighting a grin. “Ithink we’re all too anxious to get back toLAto fuck around tonight.”
“Hmm,” she says, sounding unconvinced. “CalebandBeauare usually the onesIhave to track down.”
“Hey,I’mright here,”Beauprotests, but a smirk pulls at the corners of his lips.
Jasminepins him with a glare. “You’dbetter stay there.”
“We’llkeep an eye onCaleb,”Ireassure her. “Makesure he doesn’t disappear.”
Apparentlyhappy with that, she nods and heads off to have a word withZac.Shedoesn’t have to worry about him, sinceCassieis standing at his side while he talks to an excited fan.Thechange in him since she came along is subtle but noticeable.Hislaughs are more easily earned and his smiles more frequent.He’sconstantly touching her, or she’s touching him—a stroke to the back of his hand, a caress of his arm, a quick kiss pressed to his cheek.Andhe soaks it in, like he can’t get enough of it—ofher.
Asudden pang goes through me.
Whatwould that be like?
“Ihad big plans to celebrate the end of the tour.”Beauinterrupts my thoughts. “ButI’mfucking exhausted.”
“Yeah,”Iagree absently, my focus still onZacandCassie, the strange feeling still pushing against my rib cage.
“So, aboutShae,” he says.
Myattention snaps back to him.Iguess there’s no getting around it.He’llwonder why the hell it’s been so long sinceIspoke to our best friend.AndIdon’t have a good answer becauseIdon’t understand it myself. “Abouta month ago.Why?”
Surprisingly, he doesn’t call me out on it.Instead, a frown creases his forehead. “Italked to her a couple of nights ago, and she sounded off.Meantto say something to you at the time, but you were… busy.”
Iwince.Theway he says it tells me exactly whatImust have been busy doing.
“ThenIgot distracted and forgot to ask,” he continues. “Didyou notice anything the last time you spoke to her?”
Guiltcurls in my stomach again.Knowingsomething might have happened to upsetShaewhileI’vedone nothing but send the occasional halfhearted text to check in guts me. “Notreally.ButI’llcall her when we get home.Makesure she’s okay.”
Beaupulls his cell phone out of his back pocket and checks the time. “It’llprobably have to be tomorrow.She’llbe working.”
Fuck, he’s right.Shae’sbar manager job keeps her out late most nights.She’llprobably still be at work when we get back, since there’s a two-hour time difference betweenMinnesotaandCalifornia.
Still, thoughts of something being wrong in her life won’t let me rest.Ispend the remainder of the meet and greet going through the motions, fixated on what might have happened.Idon’t think she’s been dating anyone.Notsince she broke it off with her ex a year ago.Butthen again,Iwouldn’t know becauseIhaven’t fucking spoken to her recently, haveI?IfIfind out some guy has treated her badly,I’llfly there and deal with him myself.
Idouble-check the time on my phone.I’llgive her a call when we get back anyway.MaybeI’llcatch her on a break.
Becausedespite being reluctant to talk toShaelately, she will always be one of my very favorite people.Andthere’s no wayI’lllet anything, oranyone, hurt her.
ChapterTwo
Shae
Astray tearstreaks down my face, andIwipe it away with the back of my hand before dabbing my brush in the paint and smearing it across the barely visible canvas.
Thememory of this afternoon’s meeting runs on a loop through my head.
I’msorry,MissPreston, what you’ve given us isn’t up to the standard we’re looking for.
