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“You’re such a cockblocker, C. Get your ass on the bus, and let's see if we can teach Nee to play Call of Duty.”
Ionee
“Haveweeverfuckedon a piano?” I whispered, biting down on the lobe of Archer’s ear, as we walked, hand in hand with the others, through the backstage area of the venue he was playing at tomorrow night. The last two days on the bus had flown by because Archer and I had either been fucking or babysitting Charlie, who really did need constant attention. He was exhausting.
“No, but it can be arranged.”
“Here?” I nodded to the glossy, white grand piano in the middle of the stage.
He spluttered. “Erm, we have about seventy-five crew on this gig, so no, I will not be fucking you with an audience, but we have a piano at home.”
“Can I come home?” I asked quietly, realizing I’d never answered him about coming back and that this probably wasn’t the best place to have this conversation.
He froze.
I panicked.
And then he turned, lifting me from the floor and spinning me around until the world blurred around me. Suddenly I felt sick, slapping him on the shoulder before I threw up on him.
“Shit, sorry. Are you okay?”
I closed my eyes to stop the throbbing in my head, nodding tentatively because the movement made me feel sick again. My headache had started when I woke up this morning, but I’d not mentioned it because I didn’t want him to worry.
“I think I need to sit down. You carry on and I’ll wait for you in the greenroom.”
“You sure? Marshall? Can you go with Nee? Make sure she’s okay.”
I squinted my eyes so I could look at Archer without the lights making my headache worse.
Dusting his fingers over my scar, he didn’t make me feel damaged or less than; he made me feel loved and cared for.
“I love you,” I whispered.
Smiling, he followed the crew that was showing them around the setup for their gig, but he’d only gone a few steps when he glanced back over his shoulder. “Nee. Just so we’re clear, I can’t wait for you to come home. You’ll be agreeing to marry me again next.” He winked and I couldn’t help but grin, no matter how much it hurt my head.
Marshall walked me to the huge greenroom and stood off to the side while I laid down on the large sofa in the corner, glad that the room was windowless and cool. I listened to the voices of the crew outside the door and the band sound checking on stage, my headache worsening by the minute.
Sitting up, I reached for my purse, realizing I’d left it on the bus.
“Marshall, could you do me a favor and get my purse from the bus? It’s in Archer’s room. My painkillers are in there.”
Marshall glanced around. “I shouldn’t really leave you, ma’am. I’m under strict orders to keep you safe.”
“And I appreciate that, but I’m pretty safe in here, right? The building is closed to the public and I really need something to help with this headache. I’d go myself, but I feel awful.”
He frowned. “Okay, I’ll go get them, if you promise me two things. One, you don’t move from this room and two, you let me call the band doctor to meet you at the hotel and check you out.”
“Marshall—”
“That wasn’t a request, Ionee.”
“I’ve not seen this bossy side of you, Marshall.”
A smile curled the corner of his mouth, and he winked. “Do we have a deal?”
“Yes. Yes, we have a deal.”
And with that, Marshall left me alone in the room, closing the door behind him, leaving me to close my eyes while a drum thumped repeatedly in my skull and I tried not to worry about what it meant.
