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Groaning, I scrubbed a hand over my face. I’d forgotten Summer was flying in to meet up with the tour. With Remi gone and Knox holed up with Summer, the rest of the tour was going to be a drag.
“Yeah, yeah.” I waved him off, eager to get away from their teasing. But despite their jokes, I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. After feeling dead inside for so long, Remi had ignited a fire in my blood — and I’d burn the whole damn world down before I let it go out again.
While I was searching through the refrigerator for some food to tide me over before soundcheck, Ryder got a call from Talia. He hopped off the bus to take it, pacing the asphalt outside as he talked to his wife and daughter. The smile that lit up his face left a warm feeling in my chest, and I briefly wondered if I could ever have something like that. I scoffed at the absurdity of it. I was way too messed up.
Knox caught my arm as I turned to head back to my room, his expression sobering. “Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?”
I hesitated, concerned about his sudden change in demeanor. Knox was many things, but solemn wasn’t one of them. “What’s up?”
He jerked his head toward the front of the bus, away from the open window. I followed him and took a seat on a couch across from him. Knox scrubbed a hand over his head, gaze fixed on the scuffed floor between us. “Look, I know things have been moving fast with Remi...”
My shoulders tensed, and I shifted in my seat. “We’re just having fun. No need to give me the big brother talk.”
“I’m not trying to lecture you,” Knox said. “But you seem really into this lass. More than I’ve seen you with anyone. Ever. And I want to make sure you know what you’re getting into.” His eyes flicked up to meet mine. “She’s still with Greyson, yeah?”
The question caught me off guard, and I frowned. Remi hadn’t mentioned Grey since he’d gone back to L.A. I knew she had spoken to him a few times, but I hadn’t asked about him. “What does it matter?”
“It matters because I don’t want to see you get hurt,” Knox said quietly. “If she’s stringing you both along...”
“She’s not.” The words came out too quickly, too forcefully. I didn’t know if it was the truth, only that I needed it to be.
“You sure about that, mate?” Knox asked, watching me closely.
I met his gaze and held it. “I’m sure.”
Knox studied me for a long moment, then sighed. “All right. Just ... be careful, yeah?”
“Always am.” I forced a grin, hoping to lighten the mood and end the conversation.
Knox shook his head but smiled. “Liar.” He clapped me on the shoulder as he stood. “Now go get ready. You need a bloody shower, mate.”
I nodded, watching as he left the bus before I headed to the back room. Knox’s questions echoed in my mind, sowing seeds of doubt that I quickly shook off.
An hour later, I was sitting in the dimly lit private room the tour manager had arranged for me to use. I pulled up the patient portal video app on my phone and waited for Maggie to answer. My nerves were on edge thinking about our last session, how raw and vulnerable I’d allowed myself to become in front of her.
Only a few days ago, Maggie had flown out to meet me on tour, and I’d confessed to her the dark secret I’d carried for years — my past sexual abuse.
“Hey there, Ghost,” Maggie said warmly, her face flickering into view as the video call connected. She looked professional as always, her warm brown eyes framed by a pair of black-rimmed glasses. “How have you been since we last spoke?”
Leaning back against the functional brown couch, I attempted to keep my tone casual despite the weight of our previous conversation. “You know, just living the rock star life. Can’t complain too much.”
Maggie didn’t let my nonchalance deter her, raising an eyebrow before diving straight into the heart of our discussion. “Have you been journaling to identify patterns of negative thoughts and behaviors?” she asked, adjusting her glasses slightly.
I hesitated, glancing down at the leather-bound journal lying next to me on the couch. It was a constant companion these days, filled with scribbled lyrics and messy thoughts. “Yeah, I’ve been trying to,” I admitted, feeling a familiar pang of vulnerability. “It’s not easy, but it helps sometimes.”
“That’s good to hear,” Maggie said, nodding encouragingly. “How have you been feeling?”
I sat back and thought about the question. “Honestly, I haven’t been thinking about the abuse that much. I’ve been spending all my free time with Remi. She’s making me feel things I’ve never felt before.”
Maggie tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. “You don’t want to use Remi as a crutch to avoid your feelings. You’ve taken big steps. I want you to keep pushing forward. Acceptance. Analysis. You’ve got to own your feelings.”
I sighed, dragging a hand down my face. “Alright, if I’m being honest ... I’ve had a few nightmares, but I’ve analyzed that stuff in the journal. I’m not actively avoiding my memories or whatever.”
Her expression was filled with empathy and concern. “Do you want to talk about the nightmares?”
I shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though my insides knotted with unease. “The nightmares are just loops of memories. Reliving those nights. Hearing my father telling me I wanted it. Feeling...” I trailed off with a shudder, my throat tightening at the memory of calloused hands on my skin. Reliving those horrors made my stomach turn.
“It’s normal to have flashbacks about a traumatic experience.” Maggie’s gentle tone eased some of my distress. “Have you been using the coping strategies we discussed?”
