Page 36 of Pretty When It Burns (When The Lights Go Down #1)

Chapter thirty-three

"The Sound of Letting Go" - All Time Low

Mia

Jake is already burning holes in the floor of the main lounge of the bus with his pacing when Grayson and I emerge to join the rest of the group. Clipboard in one hand, triple-shot iced espresso in the other, he looks like a man on the verge of throwing himself into traffic.

“I swear to God,” he hisses as soon as he sees us. “If one more article drops with the words electric moment next to a photo of someone’s hand in someone else’s underwear, I’m quitting this fucking tour and moving to Bali to make artisanal soaps.”

“Morning, sunshine,” Grayson yawns, a lazy grin on his lips as he slides past Jake to get to the coffee machine.

Jake wheels around, eyes bloodshot and wild.

“Do you know what the publicists sent me this morning? Do you know how many calls I’ve had to field from people asking whether or not you and Mia are launching an OnlyFans?!”

Tony chokes on his coffee.

“Did you even think about the fact that you were in public?” Johanna snaps, starting to sound a lot like Jake. “Did you consider the brand at all before you took your clothes off in the damn parking lot?”

“First of all,” Grayson smirks. “No one’s clothes were off. Technically. Second, it’s not the first time we’ve done something like that. It’s just the first time we’ve gotten caught.”

Jake looks like he’s about to have that coronary right about now, the vein in his head pulsing at an all-time high.

“It’s a band, not an audition for adult filmmaking!”

“The article is actually kind of flattering,” I offer, trying not to laugh. “They called us a power couple.”

“Couple to Watch, sweetheart,” Grayson reminds me. “Don’t forget the honorifics.”

“I thought it was kind of sweet!” Rylee adds. “They called Mia radiant.”

Eric leans across the table from his spot next to Rylee, waving his phone around excitedly.

“Yo, they even mentioned me as something more than random guitar bro in this one. I was hot for, like, half a second.”

Jake groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re all going to kill me. I can already feel the press requests piling up.”

“We’ll keep it chill tonight,” Grayson promises, kicking his feet up onto the booth opposite him like he hadn’t just signed Jake into the nuthouse. “Swear to God.”

“You swore that last time,” Jake mutters.

“Okay—swear on Mia’s life, then.”

Tony suggests we sell "Grayson + Mia: Parking Lot Sessions" t-shirts at the merch booth for us to sign after the show. Brandon threatens to design the logo himself. Rylee offers to stage an even worse photo next time to desensitize the public. The whole lounge is roasting and I can’t stop smiling at their enthusiasm—until Jake slams down his clipboard again, looking like he’s about two seconds from combusting.

“Do you all want me to have a heart attack?! This isn’t a joke! We are in the middle of negotiating your first major record deal, and now the narrative is that the front man and his girlfriend-slash-photographer are shooting their first porno in a goddamn parking lot!”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Grayson deadpans.

Jake’s head drops into his hands with an audible groan. “You are ruining me, Grayson Harris.”

“And yet… you stay,” Grayson says with a wink.

“Against my better judgment and several warnings from my therapist,” Jake grumbles, tossing the clipboard onto the lounge table. “This is not sustainable, people. I need professionalism. I need boundaries. I need—”

“An outlet for all that pent-up rage?” Brandon suggests, tossing him a box of condoms and a protein bar.

“I need a win,” Jake snaps, slumping into the booth and uncapping a bottle of water.

Eric leans back in the booth again and drapes his arm around Rylee.

“Then you’re in luck,” he says nonchalantly. “We just sold out Miami.”

Jake freezes mid-sip. “...Seriously?”

Brandon hands Jake his phone. “Just got the numbers from the venue. It’s a full house.”

Jake nods slowly. “Okay,” he breathes. “It’s okay, we’re okay, I’m okay.”

“Want a Valium?” Johanna offers.

“I’ll take twelve, thanks,” he mutters, rubbing his temples.

The moment fades into shared laughter, excitement, and the clinking of coffee cups, but I can’t help but notice that Grayson has cooled since the sold-out show got brought up.

The Folly Beach show had been so laid-back, I was onstage with him throughout the whole thing, and the nerves he’d been battling with hadn’t appeared once. But now he’s back in full front man mode, playing the first sold-out arena show of his career.

I know he’s holding on by a thread.

The worst part?

So am I.

The bus eventually quiets down. Jake disappears to email the PR team while dramatically threatening to fake his own death (and that’s where he’ll be if we don’t see him again). By midafternoon, the group has scattered across the venue to nap, grab food, or get ready for the big event tonight.

Rylee and I end up on the top level of the tour bus with the windows cracked open to let in the breeze. She has her legs tucked under her as she scrolls through photos on her camera.

“You okay?” she asks eventually, not looking up.

I hesitate, my hands wrapping around a bottle of water I haven’t actually taken a sip from. “I got a call last night. From my dad.”

Her head shoots to attention, her expression shifting instantly. “Byron?”

I nod.

“Holy shit,” she breathes. “What did he want?”

“He saw the damn Philly video,” I mutter. “He said some guy at his job showed it to him and he didn’t even recognize me at first. Honestly, I don’t even know how he had my phone number now that I’m thinking about it. Anyway, he said to call him back, get this—if I wanted.”

“If you wanted?” she repeats, disgust lacing every syllable. “What does that even mean? Like he’s doing you a favor?”

She’s echoing every thought I’ve had since I got the call. I still can’t make sense of it.

“That’s what it felt like.”

Rylee is silent for a long beat, processing. “He hasn’t been in your life for what, fifteen years? I can’t remember him ever calling, at least not in the time I’ve known you.”

“More like eighteen,” I say. “I was eight when he left. My sisters have more memories of him than I do.”

“Do you want to talk to him?”

“No,” I say immediately, then pause. “I don’t know. I want to tell Makenna and Macy. Besides you and Gray, I haven’t told anybody.”

“Then I’ll make myself scarce,” she says, giving my hand a squeeze as she stands up. “Just say the word if you need back up. Or if you want me to call him back and tell him to fuck himself. I’m so good at that.”

“I know,” I laugh, grateful for her protectiveness of me. “You know, Grayson offered to hijack the bus and drive it through his front yard.”

“He loves you,” she smiles softly. “We both do.”

She disappears down to the lower level of the bus and I’m alone again. I stare at my phone for a long moment before opening the sister group chat.

New Message: M&M&M

Mia Alexander

Busy?

Macy Alexander

I can peel away from work but only if we’re going to talk about that steamy article about you and Grayson getting it on in a Jeep!

Makenna Alexander

Seconded. WTF?

I roll my eyes, knowing I set myself up for that one.

Mia Alexander

FaceTime? It’s not about that.

Makenna Alexander

Give me two minutes to get back to my office.

Macy Alexander

Already calling you.

Incoming FaceTime: M&M&M

Their faces fill my screen. Macy is adjusting her camera while balancing what looks suspiciously like a full champagne flute and Makenna, now back in her sleek office, already has one brow cocked in suspicion.

“Okay, we’re here,” Makenna says, tugging off her blazer and draping it over the back of her chair before sitting down. “If this isn’t about that insane article, what’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Not so much seen one as heard one,” I mumble, suddenly less sure about diving into this with them.

“Care to elaborate?” Macy prods.

I hesitate. But the concern in their eyes, the look that tells me they’re the only ones on earth who will know exactly what I’m feeling at this moment, gives me the nudge I need.

“I got a call,” I say. “From Dad.”

Dead silence. Macy freezes mid-sip of her champagne. Makenna blinks as if she isn’t sure she heard me right.

“Wait—our dad?” Macy finally asks.

“As in, Byron?” Makenna says slowly. “Are you serious?”

I nod and brace myself to tell this story for the third time now.

“Last night after the beach club show. He didn’t even leave a real message, just mumbled something about seeing one of the tour videos and not recognizing me at first.”

“Wow,” Makenna scoffs. “I didn’t even get a call when I made partner at the firm. Gone for what, almost two decades, and now he’s curious because you’re on a fucking stage?”

Macy leans forward on her screen. “What did he want?”

“Nothing, really. It was awkward. Just said to call him back… if I wanted.”

That part always seems to hit everyone the hardest.

“If you wanted,” Makenna echoes, her voice sharp. “Like you owe him anything now?”

I shrug. “I don’t know how I feel. I’m angry, a little sick… I haven’t heard his voice since I was a kid.”

There’s a beat of silence before Macy, uncharacteristically serious, asks, “Do you… want to call him back?”

“Part of me wants to scream at him. Part of me wants to ask why now—where the hell he’s been.

But mostly, I just feel like… he doesn’t get to do this now.

I don’t want to know how he’s doing. I don’t want to know what he’s been doing for the last eighteen years. I hate that he’s making it my choice.”

Makenna sighs. “You don’t owe him anything, Mia. We all made it without him—you especially. He doesn’t get to swoop in and take credit now.”

I hear the tension in her voice. It’s my biggest fear that they’d be upset with how, out of the three of us, he’d chosen to call me.

“Kenna, are you… Are you mad that he called me?”

“No,” she says quickly. “God, no. I’m sorry he chose you to try to make a statement with. It’s just… disbelief.”

“What did Grayson say?” Macy asks.

I smile, remembering our conversation. “He offered to deface his front yard or call him and tell him to fuck off. My choice.”

“Oh, I’d totally help,” Macy giggles. “I bet Grayson looks hot defacing things.”

“Thanks, Mace.” I roll my eyes through my laughter. “I just needed to say it out loud to the only two people who’d really get it.”

“We’ve got you, Mia,” Makenna says firmly, warmth returning to her eyes.

“Always,” Macy adds, raising her glass to cheers through the phone.