Page 111 of When the Stars Rise
“I’ve been married to the same woman for thirty years,” he says, lifting his trucker’s cap and pushing his fingers through his hair before replacing the cap. “Take it from me, young buck. There’s no such thing asa bitof a rough patch.”
I shrug it off. He obviously doesn’t know me and Hayley. “Can you just let me on the bus? I could use a shower.”
He eyes me up and down. “You’re looking pretty rough.” Ed pauses. “I saw what you did on that bridge.”
Oh shit. “You saw it too, huh?”
“Pretty sure everyone saw it by now. It’s been circulating. One of the guys on the crew sent me a video. You’ve gotta be insane to pull a stunt like that.”
“Nah. It’s nothing more than what the lighting crew does to set up the stage every night.”
“Yeah, well, they’re crazy too. Never been a fan of heights.”
“How about letting me on the bus?” I flash him a smile.
He sighs, relenting. “I’d better not lose my job over this,” he grumbles as we cross the parking lot.
“I’ll tell Hayley it’s all on me. Which it is,” I add. “She’ll believe me.” This, at least, she’ll believe. Ed’s not the one who’s in trouble here. I am.
I thank him when he lets me onto the bus and head straight back to the bedroom, wincing as I pull my T-shirt over my head. I turn in front of the mirror, studying the purple bruises on my body before turning on the shower. My bruises will heal in a few days, but this ‘rough patch’ might take a little more time to get past.
The hot water stings the cuts on my skin as I scrub my body clean, and dust, grime, and dried blood circle the drain. But when I’m done, I feel like a new man. Clear-headed enough to formulate a plan of action.
Luckily, I still have some time to figure out what I’ll say to Hayley before the show ends.
I run a towel over my hair and then wrap it around my hips and reach into the closet for my clothes then rear back. Hayley’s bag is here, but mine isn’t. The fuck?
After checking the other closets, and everywhere else I can think to look, it’s obvious that my bags aren’t here. My video equipment, cameras, clothes. Gone.
Fuck you, Dean. Goddammit. Now I’m going to have to fight to stay on this tour. But as Hayley proved when she helped Aiden, she’s the one calling the shots, so I don’t give a shit about Dean. Hayley is my only concern right now.
I put my dirty clothes back on and drop onto the edge of the mattress, burying my face in my hands.
If those news vans hadn’t shown up, I wouldn’t be in this mess right now.
But even as I think it, I know I’m putting the blame on the wrong shoulders.
It wasn’t their fault. It was mine. I did this. I fucked up. And now I have to find a way to make it right.
On the drive back to Salt Lake City, I was still holding out hope that I’d be able to discuss this with Hayley before she found out another way.
Now it’s obvious that’s not an option anymore. I grab my phone as it buzzes with messages and check the screen. Looks as if everyone and my mother knows about this.
There are tons of missed calls and messages from my family and friends, but nothing from Hayley since our last text.
I messaged her right before I left Twin Falls.I’m on my way back now. See you in a few hours. Love you.
Her reply: Hope you had fun! Can’t wait to see you. Love you.
That was almost four hours ago. So yeah, I’m fucked.
Another thought occurs to me. What if Hayley doesn’t know yet?
Maybe Dean heard about it and shielded her from the truth. He would have asked her team and everyone around her to keep it quiet so it wouldn’t affect her performance.
That would make sense. Just like the time he closed my laptop when he saw the videos, Dean would protect Hayley from the truth and make sure she didn’t hear about it.
The more I think about it, the more confident I am that it’s not too late. I still have a chance to come clean and fix this.
