Page 59 of When the Stars Rise

I’ve been living out of a suitcase for over a year, and I usually organize everything so it’s easy to find, but I don’t have time torepack, so I grab the first thing I can find—high-waisted flared jeans and a cropped T-shirt with a smiley face on it.

I go into panic mode and throw on my clothes, then fly into the bathroom.

“Why didn’t my alarm go off?” I grab my toothbrush and stare at my reflection in horror. I have a serious case of bedhead, and my bangs are sticking up all over the place.

Why did I ever think bangs were a good idea?

I wet them and flatten them down, vowing to grow them out when this tour ends.

“I shut it off,” Noah says, leaning against the doorframe to watch me in the mirror. “You were sleeping so peacefully that I didn’t want to disturb you.”

I catch his eye in the mirror. “But we were supposed to be on the road by now.”

“I talked to Dean and told him we’d meet him there.” With a sweep of his hand, he waves away all my doubts. “It’s all good.”

Meet him there? It’s a six-hour drive to Pittsburgh.

I won’t even make it in time for a soundcheck. This is bad.So bad.I’ve never missed a soundcheck and I am never late for anything. I pride myself on my punctuality and strong work ethic and yet one night of sex with Noah and it all flies out the window.

Noah comes up behind me, wraps his arms around my middle, and kisses his way up my neck, hitting the sensitive spot just below my ear that always makes me moan a little. This feels so much like old times. That familiar intimacy. His hands on my body, his lips on my skin, and I feel like I’m glowing from the inside.

I lean into him and close my eyes, savoring the moment, temporarily forgetting how late we’re running. But soon enough reality intrudes. As great as this feels, I have responsibilities and I can’t just blow them off.

“How are we getting to Pittsburgh?”

“In style,” he says with a grin as his hands roam down my sides and settle on my hips. “Take your time. No need to rush.”

Forty minutes later, the car drops us off at Teterboro Airport, and it’s clear why Noah told me there’s no need to rush.

“What are you doing here?” I ask Julian when I step onto Bastian’s private jet. It looks like the inside of a genie’s bottle with plush carpeting and jewel-toned velvet.

Julian is sitting on a midnight blue velvet sofa, sipping champagne from a crystal flute with a portable keyboard on a stand in front of him. He looks cool and relaxed in a black tracksuit and Air Jordans.

He jerks his chin toward Bastian, lounging on the opposite side of the sofa in a leopard-print button-down, black denim, and silver-studded black suede boots. Forever the quintessential rock star. “We’ve been working on some new music.”

Working on some new music?

I drop onto the sofa across from them, and Noah sits next to me, kicking out his legs as an air steward in a sharp black suit takes our drink orders.

A Bloody Mary, extra spicy for Noah, and sparkling water with a lemon slice for me.

I don’t even want to think about the carbon footprint we’re leaving behind. But then again, I travel from city to city with thirty trucks, half a dozen tour buses, and a fleet of Escalades, so I have no room to judge.

“So you and Bastian work on music together?” I ask after our drinks are served, and the pilot tells us to prepare for takeoff. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Julian shrugs, not quite meeting my eye. “I thought you knew.”

I look from him to Bastian. “Are you two…” I gesture between them with my hand and leave them to fill in the blanks.

Jules laughs, catching my meaning. “It’s not what you’re thinking.” He glances at Bastian. “I’m his godson.”

My draw drops. “Are you serious?” My gaze ping-pongs between Bastian and Jules. Bastian is notoriously private, so I wouldn’t have expected him to tell me, but surely, Jules would have mentioned it. “I’ve known you for four years. How did I never know that?”

“We don’t broadcast it,” Bastian says giving Julian a fond look that’s almost paternal. “Jules doesn’t need that kind of attention.”

“My dad produced most of Bastian’s albums, so they go way back,” Jules explains. “Took his godfather role seriously, too.” Julian laughs. “Every year, he sent me a birthday gift, and each year it was more extravagant. But it was my fifth birthday gift that changed my life.”

“What did he give you?”