Page 118 of Fire

My whole body goes rigid. “Shit. Sorry about that.”

“Nothing to worry over, yeah?” He glances over at me.

“Right, yeah.” I nod, more for myself than anything. Everything is fine. “Just tired.”

He gives me a shit-eating grin and slaps me hard on the back. “I bet you are, mate.”

“Hey, now,” I warn. “Not cool.”

“Speaking of…I never got a thank you for that.”

“For what?” I hand my guitar to a young blonde crew member that Darius has been eyeing. He gives her a lazy smile. She instantly blushes.

“For helping you two lovebirds work it out.”

I give him an incredulous look. “Are you referring to that time when you felt up my girlfriend and then left her in the middle of the dance floor for some other creepy dude to take over?”

His hands raise to his sides. “Right. That. I can see now why this might not have been the best topic to bring up. Sorry about that. Things obviously didn’t go as planned.” His eyes go round in a clumsy attempt to look innocent.

I shake my head and then smack him on the back of his. “You’re an idiot.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I am. But admit it. This idiot”—he points to himself—“is growing on you.”

“Never.”

My phone starts to ring, and by the time I pull it out of my pocket, Darius’s attention has already shifted to the blonde. Just as well since I probably should take this. It’s not often that I get a call from my older brother.

“Hey, what’s up?” I greet him as I head down the hall toward the hospitality suite.

“Hey, you got a second?” Leave it to Cash to get right to the point.

“Yeah. We just finished sound check, so you caught me on my way to grab some food.” As much as I want to go in the opposite direction, where the clinic is set up, I need fuel. If I don’t eat now, I won’t get the chance until well after the concert.

“Look, what I’m about to tell you needs to stay between us, okay?”

I stop dead in my tracks. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“I guess it depends on how you look at it. I overheard Dad talking to Ridge on a conference call yesterday.”

My hand tightens at my side. Do they know? About the visit to the clinic? Are they doubting my ability to play? All of my tests have come back normal. “Okay…”

“Evans reached out to Asher. He thinks he might be ready to come back.”

I’m momentarily speechless because this is not what I expected him to say. At all.

“How soon?” I find a quiet corner and lean against a wall. It’s cool against my spine, and I resist the temptation to just sink down and let the floor swallow me up.

“The consensus was to keep you through the end of the US leg and then?—”

“Bring him back for the international tour,” I finish, feeling everything inside of me wither. That would mean no more late-night jam sessions with the guys. No more joking with Asher. I wouldn’t get to see my best friend proudly carry his daughter on his shoulders backstage.

I wouldn’t wake up with Zara in my arms every morning.

They’d all go on without me, while I…

“What the fuck do I do?”

“You stop stalling, look through those contracts, and give Saul an answer, Hen,” he says in that pragmatic tone of his. “You decide on your next step before it’s decided for you. This is something you’ve always wanted, right? Don’t throw it all away now.”