Page 54 of The Only Thing That's Real

“It would ruin the legitimacy of the article,” I protest.

“There are ways around that. Just keep things quiet until after it goes to print.”

“I’m so confused? What is it you think you know?”

“We know Knox.” Kristen takes a sip of her wine. “We see the way he looks at you. The way his mood changes when you’re around. We saw how disgusted he was the other night when Ari had her hands all over him. I was standing nearby, and he made it crystal clear he wasn’t interested in her.”

“Really?”

“Really. After you both went missing at dinner tonight, we knew our suspicions were correct. We should start a damn private investigation firm.”

“Yes! We could use a little side hustle to keep ourselves entertained once our run in New York is over. The guys are gonna get on our nerves real quick.”

“You guys, it’s really not what?—”

“Don’t. We’ve let you into our coven. Don’t shut us out,” Kristen says, resting her hand on mine. “Now, let’s start from the beginning.”

Surprisingly, I do just that. I begin with the first day I arrived, right up to the moment we left the restaurant. I kept what happened on the bus vague, not giving away his secret and they didn’t push for more.

They listened. They offered insight. They didn’t judge. But they did tell me that my story did nothing but confirm their theory.

Knox has it bad for me.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Knox

It’s our last show in Boston before we head to New York. As much as we love playing the TD Garden, it’s our upcoming two-week run at New York’s Madison Square Garden that has the whole band buzzing.

After tonight’s show here in New England, we’ll have two weeks off for press before our two-week run at MSG. We’ve played there numerous times, but not this many consecutive nights in a row. It’s not record breaking or anything, but for a bunch of small-town kids from Goose Hollow, it feels special.

It’s bittersweet, reaching such a milestone at the very end of our career. No matter how big a band gets, The Garden is important. It’s not the biggest place we’ve played, nor is it the oldest or most historic, but there’s just something about it.

The building is legendary.

As I’m warming up my voice in yet another empty locker room, my phone pings with an incoming message from Angus. I open it to find a picture of Sawyer sticking his tongue out while he colors. Just like I do when I’m concentrating. The accompanying message says,Like father, like son.My eyes sting at my reflection in the mirror and I catch myself smiling. It does my heart good that my brother is keeping me involved, but it messes with my head too. It should be me there coloring with Sawyer. But one more look at my little boy and pure joy lights me up and guides me to the greenroom to meet up with the rest of the band.

The four of us make our way toward the twenty thousand fans waiting for us. The joy in my heart from looking at Gus’s picture blends with the preshow rush of excitement that is standard. Throw in the new jolt of energy that hits me when I see Ryan in front of her director’s chair, stage left like she always is and I’m amped to perform.

Sean elbows me when we’re a few feet away, a Cheshire cat grin on his face. Apparently, I’m not as good at hiding my attraction to her as I think I am.

The guys gave me the third degree after dinner last night. I didn’t confirm or deny their suspicions, but they’re on the right track. After we wrap things up and Ryan’s work is done, I plan on pursuing her with everything I’ve got. Until then, I’m trying to respect her position as much as I can.

However, I’m not perfect.

I’ve stayed away all day, but now that she’s only two feet away, I step up beside‌ her, unable to resist foolishly linking my pinky finger with hers like the glutton I am. This isn’t exactly keeping things professional, but now that I’vetouched her. Tasted her. I’m addicted. I may have only taken a sip, but how can I resist when she’s standing right here?

We don’t speak. We don’t even look at each other. For now, it’s enough.

When I walk out on the stage, I feel free. The ten tons of shame that had taken up residency in my chest these last months is gone, replaced by a hint of the hope I lost years ago.

Hope that I might not just get through our last shows.

Hell, I might actually enjoy them.

“Hello, Boston! You ready to fuck things up?”

Chapter Thirty

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