“It’s possible. The timing lines up—Adam would have known about the tour schedule well in advance. And he clearly has issues with Nova. He’s connected enough to get close, but not so significant that our teams would flag him as a threat.”
I nodded slowly. “It would make sense.”
“We’ll investigate.” Ethan stepped closer, his gaze softening. “But that’s not what’s really bothering you, is it?”
The quiet perception in his voice caught me off guard. It was unsettling how easily he could see through my professional disguise.
“I’m just tired.” I tried to smile, but it felt weak even to me. “This tour is…a lot.”
“When was the last time you took a break? A real one?”
I laughed without humor. “Break? What’s that?”
“Mel.” My name on his lips was gentle but insistent. “You can’t keep going like this.”
“I don’t have a choice. Nova needs?—”
“What doyouneed?”
The question was so unexpected that I didn’t have a prepared answer. What did I need? When was the last time I’d even asked myself that?
“I need…” I began, then stopped, surprising myself with the truth that nearly spilled out:I need a different life.
But that wasn’t going to happen, was it?
Chapter 17
Mel
Two days later, nothing felt particularly better. My phone buzzed on the vanity. I closed my eyes, counted to five, and finally glanced down at the screen.
Hey Mel, been thinking about you a lot lately. Would love to grab coffee again sometime? Let me know?
The sender wasn’t in my phone under a name, but I knew it was Tommy Fitzsimmons from the coffee shop six months ago. The guy I’d gone on exactly two dates with before realizing there wasn’t a single spark between us. He’d messaged me a few times since then wanting to go back out, but I’d sidestepped him.
Not that I had much time to date anyone right now, but even if I did, Tommy wouldn’t be on my list. He was nice enough—perfectly pleasant conversation, decent job at some tech company—but about as exciting as watching paint dry.
The irony that I’d rather watch actual paint dry than go on another date with him wasn’t lost on me.
I turned the phone facedown without replying. He’d also messaged me a few times since the tour started since I was on the East Coast, and he lived…somewhere on this side of the country. I couldn’t remember exactly where. But I wasn’t interested, and it was better not to lead him on.
My thoughts drifted to Ethan. To that kiss we’d shared in my suite what seemed like forever ago. The way his hand had curved around the nape of my neck, the solid warmth of him against me. Unlike Tommy, the chemistry between Ethan and me was undeniable—at least on my end.
But apart from that single kiss and a vague mention of dinner “when things calm down,” nothing had materialized.
It was time to face the facts. Ethan Cross didn’t strike me as a man who hesitated going after what he wanted. Which led me to a conclusion I’d been avoiding: maybe he didn’t really want me after all. The kiss had been a momentary lapse in judgment, perhaps. A mistake he wasn’t eager to repeat.
I sighed, rubbing the tension from my shoulders. I shouldn’t be thinking about Ethan anyway. I had enough problems without adding romantic complications to the mix.
“Mel! Did you see what they’re saying online?” Nova burst through the door of the dressing room, still in her bathrobe after her preshow shower, phone thrust forward like a weapon. “That asshole Adam Foster leaked footage of your argument backstage in Louisville!”
“What?”
She dangled her phone at me. Sure enough, there was the video—slightly grainy but clear enough—showing Adam Foster and me facing off in the hallway, both of us looking like we were one step away from throwing punches. The headline above it read:RISING TENSIONS: Nova Rivers’s Team Clashes with Opener’s Manager.
“Great.” I handed the phone back. “Just what we need.”
Nova was already tapping furiously at her screen. “I’m going to post a response right now?—”