Page 24

I trace the curve of each letter like I could find a hidden meaning if I looked hard enough.
Maybe it’s not what it sounds like.
Maybe it’s not over.
Maybe—
“Dude, are you listening?” Ajay’s voice breaks through my thoughts.
“What?” I snap, pulling the headphones down and refolding the note as gently as possible.
“We’ve asked you three times if you’re good with switching out ‘Falling Fast’ for ‘Crescent Moon’ on the setlist.”
“Whatever,” I mutter. “Do what you want.”
Dana raises an eyebrow. “You’re the lead, Quinn. It’s kind of your call.”
“Since when?”
Dana shrugs. “I’m pretty sure if you leave, the fans will follow you. Not us.” She looks at Ajay, who nods.
I shake my head and glare at her. I never asked to be the lead a band or to have any sort of fame. “Regardless, we’re a band. Anything I say affects us all.”
The room goes awkwardly silent.
Ajay tries again, gentler this time. “Hey, man, you sure you’re okay? You’ve been . . . off.”
I shove the note into my pocket, stand, and head out of the lounge. “I’m fine.”
I’m not fine.
I haven’t been fine for a while now.
Canson turns down his radio when I sit down in the leather chair near him. Over the past, however many miles we’ve traveled, I’ve gotten to know him a bit. He’s a single dad with a daughter in college. He retired from the corporate world five years ago and drives tour buses for fun.
I’m not sure I’d say zigzagging across the country in a bus is fun, but he seems to enjoy it. I’ve made sure he’s well taken care of, and he’s even caught a couple of shows. Canson’s daughter is a fan, and Elle has VIP tickets for her and her friends at an upcoming show.
The bus hums along the interstate while I stare out the window. It’s shaded to give us privacy, but also the band’s logo is spread across the windows, making it near impossible for us to see outside unless we look out the front or are upstairs, but even then, we can only see the horizon.
There was a time when my sisters, Noah, and I were younger, and this was how we spent time. We were on the 4225 West tour bus, and one of the windows didn’t have any coverings other than a shade on the inside. The four of us used to sit by the window and wave at people driving next to us. They couldn’t see us, really, which I think is why our parents allowed it. But it still gave us something to laugh about, especially when we’d encounter a trucker and move our arms up and down, the road signal for a trucker to pull the rope for the horn.
All fun times until now.
My mind won’t shut off. I don’t know if it’s the sleepless nights, the bottled-up anger, or the fact that every love song on my playlist feels like a punch to the gut.
When did this happen? When did I start failing at the one thing I was supposed to be good at—loving her?
There’s a clearing of a throat. It’s Ajay. He sits acrossfrom me.
“You gonna keep pretending everything’s okay until you blow up or . . . ?” He trails off.
My jaw clenches. I have never been the type of person to air my dirty laundry. Call it a hazard of growing up on the road. I had my dad, my uncles, and my tutor or nanny, and I lived on a tour bus. It wasn’t like I went to school, had playdates, played any type of sport, or joined the Boy Scouts. Until Noah, Peyton, and Elle, I never associated with anyone my age.
Once Katelyn came into my life, I started expressing myself more, mostly because I had to. Each night at dinner, we had to talk about school, activities, and how we were feeling. And eachmonth, it was just a me-and-her day, and she taught me how to open up.
That doesn’t mean I like to, especially about this type of shit. My romantic life should be private, despite the band knowing about Dana and Hendrix. Well, it’s mostly Hendrix being hung up on Dana and not the other way around. Still, their problems are the very reason I don’t want to air mine.
I like Ajay, but this isn’t something I want to talk to him about, especially on a bus full of people. “Not your business,” I mutter, trying not to draw Canson’s attention. I know he won’t say anything because of the non-disclosure agreement he signed, but people can be bought, or he could casually mention what he heard on the bus to his daughter.