Page 43

When I catch Tyler’s gaze across the stage during the final song of our set, everything else fades. I sing for him. For the months we missed. The endless ache. The quiet hope that everything will be alright as long as we’re together. For my heart, my world, my everything .

And his answering grin, so wide I can see the dimples all the way from here, is all I ever need, always.

When we get off, the thunderous applause ringing in my ears, our friends are all over us. Hugs. Shouts. Hands clapping our backs, laughter and so much fucking joy I can’t imagine ever being down again.

I don’t check it when Six of Hearts takes the stage. I don’t need to. All I care about is that the tour manager had the good sense to keep them on the other side of the wings, far from us.

No drama with a forced encounter. Just some much-needed space.

And fuck it, all I see is Tyler, anyway. His smile. The excitement and pride shining in his eyes. I step into him, pushing him back a couple of steps until we’re neatly tucked out of sight from the audience behind one of the massive speakers. Just us.

Well, us and our friends who show up a second later, because that’s what they do.

“Jacie, you were amazing,” Ty muses, ignoring them, pressing his forehead to mine.

“Sometimes I hate I have to share you with the world. But when I see you like this, in your element… I guess that’s selfish of me.

” His fingers slip into the damp hair at the nape of my neck, grounding me, letting the adrenaline of the show settle.

“I swear it, Jace, this thing you have, this talent. It’s so raw and pure.

You have to be shared. You’re too magical to be contained. ”

“Shit,” that bastard Lam says, interrupting a fucking amazing moment, my moment. “I so got a stiffy from that. And it wasn’t because of Missy’s tight pants. No offense, babes.”

Missy snorts, wiping sweat from her neck with a towel a roadie just tossed her. “None taken.”

“So… dick does it for you now, then?” Tuck grins, tossing the comment toward Lamar, and I catch that glint in his eyes. It’s the same one he used to give me , a long time ago.

“Still not entirely sure,” Lam answers, his big dark eyes now focused on Tuck. “It’s not like I haven’t thought—”

I wince as Six of Hearts launches into their first song, the bass drop drowning him out. But I don’t look at the stage. No, I watch the way Tuck leans in and says something to Lamar. Something I can’t hear. How Lam grins down at him, his big hand finding Tuck’s back like it’s instinct...

I watch how his expression morphs into something very Lamar-like. That look we all know and fear, the one that means something is brewing in that squirrel brain of his. The kind of look that—

Lamar kisses Tuck. Right on the fucking mouth.

My mouth fucking drops. Eyes wide. What the—

They take less than a second before Lam’s hand tangles in Tuck’s unruly blonde hair, and Tuck— Jesus —Tuck fucking grabs Lam’s ass and yanks him closer like they’ve been waiting for this moment since for-fucking-ever.

I can feel Tyler chuckling beside me, completely unbothered. Like he isn’t the least bit surprised about this. And Missy—Oh shit, Missy .

I step back, trying to glance around the groaning couple, because jeez, they’re really going at it, but she’s just standing there.

Watching them. Watching her ex make out with a guy like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And there’s this look on her face. Not shock.

Not jealousy. Just a small, secretive smile tugging at her mouth.

Like she knows something the rest of us don’t.

Oh, hell no. She and I are gonna have words later, and she’s spilling the damn tea.

“Are you honored or horrified that you put him in the mood for some gay lovin’?” I mutter into Tyler’s ear when he throws an arm around my waist.

He snorts. “This was a long time coming, trust me.”

When they finally break apart, Tuck’s all wide-eyed and gaping, blinking at Lamar like a broken owl.

But Lam? Lam just smacks Tuck’s ass like it's no biggie, crosses his arms, and casually turns back to watch Six of Hearts’ set like he didn’t just tongue down a dude in public, and starts tapping his foot to the rhythm, completely unfazed.

I do catch the wink he throws Tyler, though.

I’m still baffled by the time I have to get back on stage for the encore, and even our mashup flows like fuck yeah.

It’s a damn party up there, euphoric, wild, how it should always be.

It hits me then how heavy a stain Mick was on this tour.

How much he didn’t just fuck with us , but with the whole vibe.

Even Six of Hearts looks different on stage without him. Lighter. Freer .

Yeah, I hate his guts. I’m glad the label finally put a stop to things, started taking us seriously. I feel bad for the other guys, however. They’re still Six of Hearts. Still trying. Still standing.

Still... I can’t stop smiling when we finally walk back to the bus after being bombarded by rabid fans. We survived it. This concert. This tour . And we decide to celebrate the only way we know how: drinks on the bus, one last time, crashing there for the night before we head home to LA.

It should be tight, but besides the two unoccupied cubicles where we usually store luggage, Missy will sleep at Bow’s, me and Ty will share a bunk, and shit, I think we can shove Tuck and Lam into one bunk with no issue.

When we veer around the back of the bus, joking and laughing, I come to a fucking halt.

Right between our bus and the one from the roadies’, leaning against ours like he owns the damn thing, is Mick. Smoking a damn cigarette. I sniff. Scratch that, I’d recognize that tangy scent anywhere. Grew up in Amsterdam, didn’t I?

He lifts his head when he hears us, and locks eyes with me.

His eyes are dark, but his mood is damn near black.

That usual cocky grin I’m used to seeing on his face is all wrong.

It’s twisted. Resentful. Rotten. His gaze flicks past me, to Tyler, to the others closing in behind us, and then right back.

“Thank you,” he says, voice thick and bitter. “Thank you for fucking up my career.”

I feel the surrounding shift, my friends tightening, forming a wall behind me, ready to jump in. But I straighten my spine and square my shoulders.

I won’t cower. Not for him. “You did that all on your own.”

“After lifting you up, you mean?” he spits as he pushes off the side of the bus, throwing the blunt away. “All I did for your pathetic little group of misfits, and this is the thanks I get?”

“Mick, don’t,” Bowie steps up, “Don’t start this shit again. You’re in enough shit as it is. Just let it go, man. ”

I try to stay calm. I really do. But my heart’s hammering like it wants to break out of my chest, and I step back to the ever-steady presence that’ll always have my back. Calm. Collected. Tyler .

“What?” Mick sneers, glancing at him when he puts a grounding hand on my shoulder. “Your little boyfriend not gonna defend your honor? He lose his tongue somewhere up your ass?”

“Mick,” Bowie warns again, voice sharper now.

“Oh, come on, really? You defending him?” Mick laughs, low and mean. “Jace’s not even that talented. But hey, I’m sure he’s great on his knees. Probably how he got the gig, right?”

Before I even comprehend what the fuck’s happening, Tyler’s got him by the throat and shoves him backward against the bus with so much force that I swear it’ll leave a dent.

My shock lasts all of a millisecond before I take a step forward, worried, hearing a sharp, “Dammit!” from Ev as he scrambles toward them.

But it’s no use, really. Tyler’s got him in a grip so solid Mick couldn’t move even if he tried. And oh, he’s trying alright. Hard .

Sometimes I forget how strong Ty is. Every inch of him is honed to perfection. He’s all muscle, sculpted to be at his peak, the top of his game. Which he is . And all that strength, all that raw, focused power, is now zeroed in on the piece of shit pinned against the side of the bus.

“Do it,” Mick grunts through Tyler’s straining grip, hands clawing at his arm, standing on his toes. “I fucking beg you. Try it. See what happens if you assault me .”

Tyler’s other fist clenches, probably itching to just punch. His jaw ticks. His whole body vibrating with restraint. I don’t know if I should intervene, pull him out of it, or just let it happen.

Because fuck if Mick doesn’t deserve it.

“Oh, I don’t know. What should happen?” Ev says, voice cold. “Pretty sure you attacked him first, and I think all these witnesses here agree with that.”

Mick’s glare snaps to Ev when there’s a low hum of agreement, then turns stone-cold. “What? You’re going to lie for them, for him ? You’re my bodyguard. What the fuck are you—”

“Not anymore. Paperwork just went through during the concert—thank your dad for me, Jace. I’m with Encore, for the next tour at least. After that, we’ll see.”

“You fuckin’ leaving me after twenty-five years?” His voice is hoarse, and he tries to shove my man again. Tyler’s grip doesn’t budge. Solid. Unshakable. “You’d do that to me?” Mick spits.

“ You did that to us . I tried Mickey. I really fucking did.”

I blink. Mickey ? Twenty-five years? I didn’t know they knew each other as kids…

Bowie’s eyes shimmer as he looks at his brother. Yeah, shit, I feel kinda bad for him . But he’s not interrupting, like he knows something we don’t. I think this has been brewing for a while now.

“You’re going back to rehab, Mick,” Ev says, voice like steel. “And I don’t care how you’re gonna do it, but it’s gonna happen.”

Mick scoffs, bitter and loud. “Why the fuck should I?” Then, to Tyler: “Let me go, you idiot!”

Tyler’s hand only clenches for a second, and that’s all it takes. Mick immediately stops pushing at his unmoving arm, eyes wide as only now realizing what his current situation is. But with a furrowed glance over his shoulder at me, probably to check if I’m alright, Ty drops the shithead anyway.

Mick coughs as he drops on his knees, grabbing his throat and glaring Ty’s way. Ty’s jaw ticks, and he looks at Mick with so much disdain, it’s a look I never want to see on his gorgeous face ever again. It doesn’t belong there…

I finally pull myself together and do something, grabbing his wrist and tugging him toward me. Shit, Mick’s not worth this. Mick’s not worth Ty stooping this low. My man is not a violent person, and he is better than this. He’s good , and I don’t want Mick to taint that.

Besides, Everett’s got it handled.

“If you do,” Ev says, voice tight, “For real this time, I’ll consider coming back.”

Mick freezes. Just for a second. It’s not much, but I see it. Something raw flashes across his face. Something I never thought he was capable of: pain.

“What. You—” His voice cracks as he grabs his throat again.

“Shut. The fuck. Up,” Ev growls. “You’re going. You understand? I’ll make damn sure of it. I’ll fucking whip you into shape if I have to.”

“Did he say ‘whip’?” someone mutters behind me—Rafa, of course. “Oh, that’s so hot.”

Ev doesn’t even blink. Just reaches for Mick’s collar, pulls him up, and starts dragging him out of here like he weighs nothing at all. Mick somehow doesn’t even object, just letting Everett pull him and they disappear around the side of the bus.

And just like that, he’s gone.

My shoulders sag. I turn instantly, grabbing Ty’s face and scanning him, needing to see for myself. “Are you okay, babe?”

“I am,” he says, voice low, meant only for me. “You?”

God, the concern in his eyes nearly undoes me. But the fire, that fire that was burning there since the moment I got home, burns just a little less bright now.

My throat tightens. I nod. Then whisper: “Thank you… He’s gone, babe. Christ, I hope it stays that way.”

His dimples pop. “I don’t think you need to worry about that for the foreseeable future.”

He presses a soft kiss to my mouth like he needs the confirmation just as bad as I do. He’s gone. He’s really fucking gone.

“I’m so sorry, Bow,” Missy says behind me. I turn to see my friends standing there, watching us.

Bowie shrugs, looking over at her with a half-smile. “Nah... it’s happened before, ya know? Ev’ll... do what’s right. It’ll be kinda nice to have a break from touring, to be honest.” He glances at Missy. “Maybe chill for a bit. Visit some friends.”

Missy’s face lights up with a wide, excited grin.

“Wait—hold up.” Lamar cuts in. “Is that your new boo? You replaced me with that ?”

“Shut the fuck up, Lamar,” Missy fires back, rolling her eyes. “Apparently, you like Tuck now, so don’t even start.”

Lamar cackles, unfazed. “Still feisty as ever. Good luck to you dudes.” He lifts his fist and Bowie bumps it without hesitation.

I snicker, shaking my head as I finally step onto the bus. Despite that shitshow, my chest is a little lighter. Because Mick? He’s gone. Out of my life. And that’s all I could’ve hoped for.