Page 128 of To Belong Together
Even if she returned the money, he’d suspect her motives. She might invest in the short term to win a long-term relationship with him, one in which she’d never have to worry about money again.
How would he ever know?
Perhaps, though, if she came clean about how she’d used him, he would have closure. He’d understand a little better why he kept ending up used and rejected so he could avoid it next time.
Not that there’d be a next romance for him—he was done hoping for a happily-ever-after that included a family of his own—but as he surrendered that dream, the importance of his other relationships multiplied. What would become of him if he lost his connection with Mom, Angie, Mark, or Gannon?
When Erin disappeared just minutes into the encore, he imagined she was looking for the band’s exit route from the venue. Plenty of diehard fans would do the same, but Erin was resourceful. If she could hold her own in her uncle’s shop, she could reach him.
Finally, the show ended.
Backstage, Lina introduced a small group of fans for a meet-and-greet.
No Erin.
John accepted a water, hoping it would help with his headache, then fell in with the others to sign a few autographs and pose for selfies. The fans tried to talk, but the temporary stage didn’t muffle the crowd outside, and he only caught a few disjointed words before security ushered Awestruck out.
Fans screamed, pressing against the barricades that preserved a clear path from the stage to the waiting SUV.
Still no Erin.
Only noise and pointless idol worship.
Who are you?Gannon had asked.
I’m Awestruck’s drummer.
As Awestruck’s drummer, he ought to be high off a performance so well received. Instead, when the pain in his head allowed much thought, all he did was recount what he’d lost.
Ahead of him, the first bodyguard reached the SUV and opened the door for Gannon.
John’s shoulder jerked back, turning him. Had Erin caught up?
No. The woman who’d grabbed his shoulder was short and stout and had squeezed into a top two sizes too small. Others spilled into the space around her, hands closing on his arms, his shirt.
A barricade must’ve given way.
He lifted his broken arm over his head as the crowd pushed and pulled at him. The pressure snapped away as guards inserted their bulk between him and the fans.
“You all right?” The man dusted John’s shoulders and made purposeful eye contact, though other bodyguards bumped this one’s back as the scuffle continued beyond him.
John nodded. The crowd had stretched his shirt but hadn’t injured him.
The team ushered him into the SUV. John dropped into the back, clicked his seatbelt, and shut his eyes.
Was Erin really not out there?
He mustered the energy to peer through the window, but between the darkness of night and the dark tint, he wouldn’t have been able to pick her out even if she’d stood two feet away. She did, however, have a direct line to him. He took out his phone. Nothing there.
What would leave her silently standing in a crowd, watching but not advancing?
“It was too soon, wasn’t it?” Gannon’s voice.
John stayed as he was. Yes, his pounding head said it’d been far too soon. But even if he’d spared himself the physical pain by refusing to perform tonight, his mind would be torturing him. He’d lost too much, and Awestruck was too little of a prize to console him.
40
Sunday morning found John in a spare room at Gannon’s. His friend had refused to let him go home the night before, either because of the headache or because Gannon had figured out more was wrong than physical pain.
