Page 81 of Fresh Tracks
Alright. Maybe there’s a chance no one in my family will find out before I have a chance to talk to them first.
“Do you think you can get them to take that post down?” Tommy’s voice is still terse when he looks at Jake and I can see the tension in his jaw.
“I already reached out but haven’t heard back yet. I’ll stay on them and see what I can do.”
“Good.” Tommy nods and turns to me, rubbing his thumb over my cheek. “You sure you’re?—”
I raise my brows and give him a pointed look. “Stop worrying about me.”
He sighs and drops his eyes. “You’re right.” I reach out and rub his arm, tracing my thumb over the faded barbed wire tattoo on his bicep.
“Anything I can do to help?” We turn to see Sutton, sitting there with his hand raised.
I shake my head before Tommy tips his chin to him. “Just get your shit together and be ready to meet us at the airport. I already want to get back to Jackson. We can head back a couple days early. I’ve already had enough of this shit here.”
He looks at his best friend and brother exuding confidence and determination. It’s almost enough to convince me that everything is OK, but I see that current of tension beneath the surface, coursing through him, up his spine, and to the spot he’s rubbing at the base of his neck. I can only imagine that living in the public eye, under a microscope — the way he did for so many years — must’ve been incredibly hard. That part of his life seems like a distant, alternate reality, so far removed from the largely quiet, private life he has now.
I told myself it wouldn’t bother me and it still doesn’t, but now I see that he was right. As much as he doesn’t want to havemy life impacted by his past, it was still bound to happen at some point.
All I can think of now is that I want what he wants — to be back in Jackson.
I grabmy mimosa from Stacy and turn to walk back where Tommy and Sutton are sitting across from each other in the middle of the plane’s cabin. I stand in front of Tommy, his eyes are fixed on me. “OK. It’s official. You’ve completely ruined me.”
He looks up at me with a flirty smirk. “Are you telling me I’m spoiling my girl?”
I cock my head and shrug. “Maybe, but can you promise to stop using this jet like an Uber? I’m having serious struggles about the environmental impact.”
He laughs and I give him a slap on the wrist after taking a sip of my drink. “I’m serious. This is so extra!”
“Fine,” he says before taking a drink of his coffee. “No promises, but I will try.” He lifts my hand and brushes his lips over the back of it with a gentle kiss. Then he pulls me down into his lap and I squeak a surprised laugh, grasping my drink in my other hand trying not to spill it.
He wraps his arms around me, winding his fingers into the hand he's still holding. I curl into him, resting my head on his shoulder, breathing in that comforting, bergamot scent.
I do my best not to worry about what people think or needing validation from others. That doesn’t change the fact that I like him being so comfortable with me in front of one of his best friends. It feels reassuring. That little gesture, holding my hand — holding me — in front of his friend, feels bigger now.
“Alright, I’m going to go read.” We turn to see Sutton stand up from his seat opposite us. He gives us a wink, grabs his book,and walks to the back of the plane, sprawling out on the couch and opening his book.
Tommy chuckles to himself. “He’s such a dork.”
“I don’t know. I think he’s kind of sweet.” I look over to see just a hint of worry creep into his eyes. “Oh, don’t tell me you're the jealous type?”
He smirks and squeezes my hand. “Not at all. I know you’re mine and I’m yours.” He reaches into his pocket and grabs his phone and headphones, putting one into his ear. I stop him before he puts the other one in, plucking it from his fingers and putting it in my ear. He gives me a bemused look.
“Wait, your phone’s on?” I ask, pointing at his phone.
He nods slowly, looking at me like I’m crazy. “Yeah, we have WiFi on board.”
“So what are we listening to?” I already put my phone and headphones away, but I also want to listen to what makes him happy. I want to know everything about him.
He turns his phone away from me, scrolling with his thumb before clicking play. He turns to me with a pleased grin.
I lean against him and he wraps his arm around me as the sound of a distorted electric guitar and rhythmic bass plays in my ear. It’s followed by that eery, hoarse voice belting out lyrics with a raw edge. I listened to all kinds of music growing up, especially what my brothers and parents liked, and I would know this grunge song anywhere.
Tommy rests his head on top of mine while my eyes flutter shut. I listen to the song as he starts to talk quietly.
“I grew up listening to Nirvana CDs. There was this one older foster kid in the same house as me and we’d listen to them all night. I was maybe ten or eleven years old, which in hindsight, was hardly age appropriate.” His chest rumbles with a low laugh. “But it wasn’t like I had the best supervision in that house. I remember the kids at school would talk about waiting for theirfavorite band’s new albums to come out so they could buy the CD.”
“CDs? God, you’re old. Did you carry around one of those portable players and everything?”
