Page 14

I trace his eyebrows, his high cheekbones, the dimples nestled in dark stubble that grazes against my fingertips. He shudders under the touch, fingers tightening on my legs.

He seems… harsher somehow. Less soft.

I know he’s lost some body fat—he explained his brutal schedule—but it’s not just that which makes his features more hardened, more severe.

No. It’s in his eyes. In the lines around his mouth. It’s stress. And Tyler? Tyler is a gentle soul, one of the most chill dudes I’ve ever met. He doesn’t stress. He doesn’t fret. He doesn’t fidget.

I put that there.

I hate that.

I plan to take some of it away tonight, to soothe the pain I caused. To start fixing it.

My forehead drops to his as I climb onto his lap for the second time this evening. His hands slide under my jacket, pulling it off my shoulders in a rush before they disappear beneath my white tee, roaming over my back—warm against my already feverish skin.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he breathes, lips a breath away, brushing mine.

My eyes go fucking damp again, and I let out a shuddery exhale. “I know. Me too. I’m so fucking happy you’re here.” My hands slide to his neck, lips moving to his mouth, and I whisper, “Happy birthday, Ty.”

He smiles—and fuck, I almost lose it as those favorite dimples pop at me.

“It’s past midnight. It’s not my birthday anymore.”

I crumble, lips pressing together, dropping my gaze.

“I hate that I missed it. I’m so sorry,” I mumble toward his chest.

“Hey, hey. None of that.” He pulls one hand from my back and lifts my chin with a finger, gently forcing me to look at him. “You didn’t miss it. You made it count in the best way.”

He brushes his lips over mine with a soft sigh, and my head buzzes from the contact.

“Can I ask you something?” I murmur when he pulls away. He nods. Of course he nods. “How are you, really? Are you okay? I just… It’s okay if you’re not…”

His beautiful eyes well up instantly as his hands roam my cheeks, slide down my neck, then bury deep in my hair, pulling me closer—our foreheads pressed together again, my arms still wrapped tight around his broad shoulders.

“I think I’m okay now. Mostly,” he whispers. “It just… aches.” He swallows. “Sometimes the absence is too much. Even with all the talking and texting—it’s not the same. I never knew I could love like this. Miss like this. Feel like this. It’s the most beautiful and terrible thing at the same time.”

And just like that, my heart breaks for him. For us .

“I know. I know,” I whisper, voice trembling. “I love you so much. And I’m so sorry I left you behind in California.”

“You didn’t leave me,” he says, gentle but firm. “And you shouldn’t feel sorry for living your dream. Your life just… flowed down a different path.”

I nuzzle along the side of his nose, my mouth brushing his cheek. “That’s where you’re wrong,” I murmur. “My path will always lead to you; you’re my north. My internal GPS just decided to take the scenic route instead of the fastest one.”

He gives me a weak attempt at a smile for the shitty metaphor, but it fades as a tear slips down his cheek and catches in his dimple.

“It does seem like you’re coping better than me most of the time…” His voice trails off, and then he lets go of me.

I shake my head, reaching for him, but he turns away—rubbing his eyes as he collapses backward onto the bed, hiding his face.

“Oh f-fuck, I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “It’s just—these last months have been— fuck .” A real, broken sob escapes him, and it shatters something in me.

“Fuck, no. Don’t be sorry, baby. You’re not alone in this.” I follow him down, leaning over him, gently peeling his hands from his face. I lace our fingers together beside his head and kiss the tears away, brushing my fingertips across every crease of pain, trying to soothe him with every touch.

I don’t want to see him like this. I never want to make him feel like this.

When he finally lets out a deep breath of air, untangling and loosening his stiff muscles, softening beneath me, I seal my wet lips to his, and he fucking trembles .

I lift my head with a soft smile, meet his teary gaze and try to show him everything—every ounce of love, of comfort, of fire I carry inside me.

I let him see it.

Everything I am. And everything I am is his.

Always.

“It’s okay to hurt, Ty. It’s okay, ” I say, my voice steady even if I want to fall apart right beside him. “I hurt, too. Let it out. I’ll be here to catch you—forever.”

He lets out a shaky sigh, blinking up at me. “I know,” he whispers. “Shit, this is stupid.” His lips twitch. “They’re mostly happy tears, I think.” The smile is wobbly, but it’s there.

I let go of one of his hands and trail my fingers across his lips.

“Are you still sure about this?” I ask the question I’ve been most afraid of asking, the question I’ve been holding inside.

“About us? The distance?” I need to ask it.

Even if I don’t want to hear the answer.

Because if it ever comes to it—if he can’t do this anymore—I’ll quit. I’ll say fuck the music, fuck the fame.

I’ll choose him.

It’s always him.

It’ll always be him.

But he nods in a hurry, grabbing my waist again under my shirt, like I knew he would. He’s a dreamer, like me, and I know he wants me to live mine just as he intends to live his. “Yes, of course. I want this, us. I’ll want you forever. In any way I can. Are you?”

“Fuck, yeah.” I give him a slow kiss, lingering a bit too long on my favorite pair of lips.

“Like I said. The worst part is over. When we’re touring again after this one?

We’ll be the one fronting. And if Jodie’s predictions are correct?

Then the label is gonna be so happy with us, I’ll have much more leeway and demand they fix visits for us during tours. I promise you that.”

“You promise? You sure it’s gonna get better?” The hope is clear in the shine of his gorgeous deep eyes.

I nod and seal the deal with another peck on his addictive lips. I don’t know if I can pull it off, but I’m sure as fuck gonna try. That’s a promise I can keep.

His eyes soften, and he mutters an I love you so much, just before our mouths find one another again. It’s dizzying, overwhelming, all-consuming .

I have to be strong. I have to. So he can let go.

So he can fall apart if he needs to. That way I can catch him, piece him back together.

Hold us steady. For I’m too afraid that if we both crumble under the weight of this overwhelming love—under this unbearable ache as he calls it—nobody will be there to pick up the pieces and who we are, what we are will drift away like dust in the wind.

I can’t have that.

So I endure. For him. For us .

Because in the end, this is worth it. It has to be.

“Make love to me, Jacie,” he rumbles against my mouth, voice rough. “I’ve missed you too much…” Kiss. “Fuck .” Kiss. “I need you inside me…”

A shiver rakes down my spine at the invitation as I bite his lower lip, flirting the tip of my tongue over it.

“Of course, baby... I got you,” I breathe between hot kisses, licks, and bites.

I press a kiss on his lower lip, then the top, both of his cheeks before leaning back and whipping off my shirt, tossing it somewhere behind me without care.

He groans instantly, hands flying to my chest, grazing over my pecs, my shoulders. His eyes—half-lidded and hungry—follow every movement in awe. Like he still can’t believe this is real. That we’re here, together. Able to touch. To have each other.

He pulls me down by the shoulders and crashes his mouth to mine again—desperate, frantic, and perfectly on-brand. I match his pace, kiss for kiss. … But I need his skin as well, I want to get closer, to feel him, love him…

I drop a few more kisses on his mouth—because I can’t not — then reach for the hem of his sweatshirt and the shirt beneath it. “Arms up, baby… Let me see you,” I whisper, echoing his words from earlier.

He obeys without hesitation, and when he’s lying back again, the fabric tossed to the floor—I can only fucking stare .

“Oh, shit.” I graze my fingers over the fucking eight pack , breath hitching. He’s fucking built . “This is insane . You did this since exams?”

“You like?” The corner of his mouth pulls up, and a hint of his confidence creeps back in.

“Oh, do I like it? Fuck…” I flutter my fingers over the hard edges, groaning when his abs contract under my touch.

“I love it… I love you. ” I just can’t say it often enough.

“But fuck, I almost feel like a slacker.” I glance down at my own stomach with a grin.

Sure, I’m fit. I’ve got abs. I’ve got muscle.

But I’m nowhere near what he’s working with.

He’s ripped . That’s the only word for it.

I let both my hands drop on his stomach, fingers splaying wide over the delicious, heated hardness. “Oh, shit,” I mumble again, completely dazed—earning a soft, breathy chuckle from him.

“You’re perfect to me, Jacie. Beautiful. I can’t believe I’m able to touch you.” His fingers trace the contours of my chest, eyes full of lust, longing, and a trace of disbelief.

A shiver of anticipation courses through me, his touch burning me alive in the best fucking way.

“ Yes,” I hiss. “I want you to touch me, okay? Feel me.” I grab those fingers—those magic hands which are going to make millions someday—and guide them to my chest, my sides.

“I want your hands on me where I can feel them. Where you can feel m e. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Never again. Not this long.”

He nods, and I lower again, my mouth finding his once more, tongues dueling in another deep, bruising kiss. When his curls around the metal in my mouth, he lets out a moan that is pure filth, fingers digging in my flesh.

“ Fuck ... That piercing…”

“You like?” I echo his remark, grinning against his mouth.

“I love, ” he rasps, nudging my nose with his.