With the Band (With the Band #1)

My throat seals closed, and tears prick my eyelids. “I know you, and I know you understand why I have to go home. The more you fight it, the more it hurts us. It’s a month, and as much as I don’t want to be apart from you for a second, you’re worth it. You were worth the two-year wait, and you’re worth this. I love you so much, and I need you to have the best tour experience you can. If that means I can’t be an active part of it, that’s okay with me because I know I’ll get everything when it’s over.”


“Tex, babe,” he rasps, slamming his chest against mine.

My arm is crushed between us, but I don’t care. In his embrace, I feel strong—strong enough to leave for him. He can’t do the right thing—he’d never be able to send me home—but I can.

“I know. Our forever will start when you get back.”

His head dips. “No, Tex, our forever started in Paris.”

Jesus. The things that boy does to me. I’m breathless and apparently struck dumb because I can’t think of a single word.

“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” His hands trail down my back and over my butt.

My head falls on his shoulder, and I moan.

“Oh, I’ll be making you scream in a few minutes. First, I want to make sure…”

I look up and curl my arms around him. “Yes, I’m definitely going home. No, it won’t change a single thing between us. You’re going to rock these shows the way I know only you can, and you’re going to love every second in between. Have fun with your boys, and for the love of God, make sure you don’t lose Cooper!”

He laughs and closes his eyes. His shoulders sag with relief. Leaving should hurt, but I know it’s not about me.

“You shouldn’t have to do that.”

“But I will, and nothing will change us. It’s fine, Kitt. Our plans will sometimes require…modification.”

He presses a soft kiss to my mouth. “What will you do?”

“I’ll stay with Jennifer for a little while.”

His eyes go wide.

“I know, I know.” But I don’t like to be alone, and I’m due a visit there. “Just for a week or two, and then I’ll go home and wait for you guys to get back.”

“You’ve had it all planned since…”

“Yesterday. I hate that you’re so stressed. This is your tour, Kitt, and you should be living it up. The start was so much fun, but it’s not now. Is it?”

He opens his mouth and closes it.

“You can’t lie to me, and I can’t ruin this for you.”

“You’re not ruining it, Texas.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do. I don’t want you to go. Maybe we can do something though? Travel without the rest of them, arrive at different times?”

“Kitt, it won’t work. The only answer is me going home, and you rocking the tour. When it’s over, you’ll come home to me, and we’ll start our life together, the way we want.”

“What does that look like, Tex? Because this right here is what my life is.”

“This is your working life. I’m talking about our life. Me and you.”

His lips part, and he takes a breath. “Are you telling me, you want to move in with me?”

“No. That would be ridiculous. We’ve not even been together for two months.”

He smirks. “Doesn’t mean you’re not going to do it.”

No, it doesn’t.

His strong tattooed arms hold me close. “Texas, will you move in with me?”

I nod, and his lips find mine.





TEXAS


SATURDAY, JULY 4

NOTTING HILL, ENGLAND




In the grand scheme of things, coming to Jennifer’s hasn’t been the best choice. She’s been acting like she’s the perfect mother while being my friend.

Um, hello? Your sexual conquests are not a suitable discussion topic to have with your daughter!

I wanted to jab knives into my ears. She didn’t stop, not even when I’d turned cold because I was seconds away from puking.

Kitt and Dad have been constantly messaging me since I arrived two days ago. I miss them both so much. I feel like I’m missing a limb, but it’s only just bearable.

It helps that I still speak with them all the time. Kitt calls me every night and talks to me until I fall asleep. I’m not sure whom he’s doing it for the most, but we both need to fall asleep with each other.

Jennifer is brewing a pot of coffee when I walk into the kitchen. Her hair, makeup, and outfit are flawless, and it’s not even eight in the morning yet.

How does she do it? She must get up at six a.m.

“Good morning, Texas,” she says, taking another mug from the cupboard for me.

“Morning.”

“How are you doing?”

She asks me that every morning and evening. I think she asks because she cares, but I can’t make myself believe it. Whenever we talk, I feel like there’s an agenda.

Is she only doing it because she feels guilty for not being around? Does she only like me because I don’t require feeding, changing, teaching?

“I’m okay. I’ve not seen much more about the woman’s baby, so I think it’s dying down.”

She gives me a smile. “It always does.”

She’d know. When it came out that I was living with Dad and she’d gone back to London, she got a lot of shit for it. People couldn’t understand why she’d left me. I still can’t even though Dad has explained. I can’t say that I’m okay with it, but I don’t hate her. I would never call her terrible names, like the way others did.