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SIX

“ T yler, Jodie. Jodie, Tyler.” I point back and forth between the two as we finally board the bus.

They’ve seen and spoken to each other plenty during calls, so I don’t need to explain anything.

“And that numbnut is one of the roadies.” I wave at the skinny bald dude who’s lounging with my bandmates in the living area.

“His name is Opie. We have another driver but I guess he’s asleep? ” I let the question hang in the air.

“Yes. Opie’s driving the first leg. Paco will take over in a couple hours,” Missy says, smirking like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“He just said he needs his rest—slept like shit last night. So you’ll have to be quiet.

And hi , Ty. I’m so happy to see you again.

” She gets up to give him a hug, her tall, slender frame completely swallowed by my big man.

Of course, now my entire band finds it necessary to hug and greet their friend. Even our shy drummer, Asher, gets up from his spot on the lounge chair to give him a high five.

Ty never lets go of me through the entire thing. His duffle is on his back and our fingers stay linked, his hand warm and solid in mine, a crooked smile on his face, eyes bright as he returns each hug—clenching my hand tighter and pulling me closer every time someone tries to tug him away.

It almost feels like he’s afraid that if he lets go, I’ll disappear.

That we’ll wake up and realize this was just another one of those hopeful dreams we had over the past few months.

That it’s too good to be true. That if we break contact for even a second, we’ll snap right back into the lonely reality we lived apart.

And God, I share the fucking sentiment.

A soft smile curls around my lips as I glance down at our hands—his broader, darker fingers entwined with mine. At the bracelets peeking out from under our cuffs. The tiger’s eye one I gave him still circles his wrist. The braided one he gave me for Christmas? Still wrapped around mine.

I never take it off.

Not when I shower. Not for gigs. Not even during photoshoots, no matter how much they try. And by they , I mean the pushy stylists and photographers hired to make us look our best—sell singles, tickets, albums, whatever.

My stubbornness about the bracelet has earned more than a few eyerolls and arguments from Jodie, but I won’t budge, not on this.

That bracelet keeps me tethered. Keeps me sane throughout this tour.

It links me to Ty and I love that I always have a piece of him with me— on me—even when we’re miles apart.

But he’s not far away right now. He’s here, right beside me, chatting with the band about mutual friends back on campus…

And he’s taking way too long.

I grumble something unintelligible as I tug on his wrist, and Tyler gives me an amused glance over his shoulder. His lips twitch with a barely contained smile, eyes gleaming as he lifts a brow in question.

“Are you done?” I ask—not unkindly, but definitely impatient.

“What? Did you have plans?” His dimples pop out, even though he’s clearly trying not to grin.

My eyes zero in on them—those stupid, perfect dimples I love way too damn much—and I bite my bottom lip without even realizing it.

He notices. Of course he notices. His gaze drops to my mouth, pupils dilating as he sucks in a sharp breath.

Yeah. Fuck this.

I yank my man away—maybe a little too forcefully, but I don’t care. Because yes, I have plans, dammit. Very specific ones. I head straight for the sleeping area. He almost trips over a stray pillow, stumbling into my back. Oops.

“In a hurry, Jace?” Missy calls from somewhere behind me, not even bothering to hide the laughter in her voice. I throw a middle finger over my shoulder. It earns me a chorus of chuckles.

I stride right through the sea of scattered pillows they were lounging on, ignoring the paused action flick on the screen.

Dragging Tyler behind me, I pull him through the sliding door to the sleeping area and slam it shut, muting the laughter from our friends on the other side. I just want him alone.

We’ve waited too fucking long for this. No way I’m delaying it a second more.

It takes me all of two point five seconds to have Ty smashed against the side wall of the bunk beds, my mouth on his, hands framing his face, his duffle bag still slung over one shoulder, pressed to the side, quickly forgotten.

I drink him in—his taste, his warmth, his presence.

He’s here. Solid. Safe. Real .

Oh holy fuck , how I’ve missed this. Missed him . Missed us . All of it.

He grunts as one hand finds my back, fingers curling into my leather jacket, pulling me closer even though there’s no space left between us. But it’s still not close enough.

Somewhere behind a curtain, I hear Paco mumble a half-hearted complaint.

I ignore him.

He can use his damn noise-canceling headphones—or put in his earplugs like the rest of us.

We all got a pair when the tour kicked off, otherwise we wouldn’t get any sleep.

It was worse on the crew bus, definitely.

That lot is young and rowdy. The road is long, and when the drinks start flowing?

Shit goes down. I spent five months slipping on those headphones every time someone needed to scratch an itch.

Now it’s my turn. I’m itchy as fuck and I’ll take advantage of every millisecond we have together to scratch it. Because he’s finally here. With me. Where he belongs.

Every inch of us touches somewhere— chest to chest, hip to hip, hand to back—and I’m reminded how perfectly he fits against me. Like he left an imprint on my body that only he can fill. Every hollow, every gap, shaped just for him.

My heart beats louder, beats for him, to him, slamming against my chest in a song of homecoming. Because that’s what this is. This moment. This feeling.

It’s a homecoming.

I don’t have a home. Literally. I don’t have a place to live, to call my own. But I don’t need one, because I have Ty. He’s my home.

And every kiss and sweep of his mouth reaffirms that, solidifies that, and grounds me more. I was feeling adrift these long, lonely months, floating away. But with every minute that passes as I’m with him, he pulls me back to shore. He’s everything to me, my anchor.

My fucking world.

Someone clears their throat just as a knuckle-knock sounds against the frame of the now-open door.

“What?” I mutter, reluctantly peeling my face away from Ty. Just my face—the rest of me is still deliciously glued to my quarterback, who’s now moved his lips from my mouth to my neck. My hand is firmly lodged in his messy hair.

“We’ve changed the sheets,” Ava says simply, nodding toward the back door, her smile a little too smug.

I let out a dramatic breath of relief. While I think we could technically fit in my bunk—though we probably wouldn’t get out of it uninjured—the extra space is very appreciated for everything I plan to do to him.

“Oh fuck, really? Thank you!”

“Really what?” Ty asks, his lips still trailing across my skin, currently far more interested in my earlobe than anything our friend is saying. His thumb rubs over the waistband of my jeans, sending happy little zaps straight to my spine.

“There’s a bedroom in the back,” Ava explains.

“You can use it whenever you visit, Ty. I don’t mind sleeping a few nights without Asher snoring in my ear, and Missy gets cranky when she doesn’t hit her eight hours a night, so yeah—it’s better if you two stay back there.

I don’t think either of you is capable of being quiet tonight. ” Her mouth quirks.

“I think I can agree with that,” I gasp, as Ty starts sucking on the junction of my neck and unzips my jacket like he’s undressing me in slow motion.

“ God, I missed your smell,” he murmurs, ignoring Ava completely.

I slide my fingers against the back of his head, threading into his still cap-less hair, holding him right where I want him.

“The bus leaves in a few minutes for Syracuse,” Ava continues, entirely unfazed by the fact that Ty is actively mauling me.

“We’ll drive through the night so the crew can set up at the dome in the morning.

Two shows. Big setup. We’ll go finish our movie now…

” She raps her knuckles on the doorframe one more time, laughing softly.

“I wanna say have fun, but I think that’s a given. Good night, guys.”

I give Ava a half-hearted thank you before trying to pry Ty off me, which—let’s be real—isn’t working. He’s welded to me, hands everywhere , lips brushing my jaw like he’s trying to make up for lost time one kiss at a time.

Then, without a word, he bends slightly and—

“Oh, shit! Ty—” I protest as he scoops me up like I weigh nothing. I cling to his shoulders to keep our balance. But he just grins against my mouth, before continuing our kiss with a heady grunt as he carries me through the hallway.

He shoulders open the door to the back, and steps inside like he owns the place. Which, right now, he kind of does. With one swift motion, he sets me down gently near the bed, then lets his duffel slide from his shoulder. It hits the floor with a heavy thud in the corner, forgotten.

The room is small but comfortable—just enough space for the essentials: a big bed shoved into the corner, rows of cabinets lining the walls, and that sleek, polished wood paired with gray accents that match the rest of the bus’s design.

Ty drops onto the edge of the mattress, legs splayed wide, his arms held out in clear invitation. “C’mere,” he says, voice gone soft. “Let me look at you.”

Complying, I step in between his knees, my hands immediately diving back into his gorgeous dark-brown strands. His hair is longer now, messier, flopping a little over his forehead.

I love it.

He grips my thighs as I drink him in—reading every inch of emotion in his eyes, the longing so clear to me.

The tension, palpable .

The lust, apparent .

The love, undeniable .