“You don’t have to feel bad for me,” I muttered as I stood.
“I don’t feel bad. I, uh, I think what you can do is a gift. You’re…you’re one in a million, kid.”
I stared up at the stars for a moment, wishing my father had said those words to me. Then I followed Steve back through the suite and out the door.
13
Aya
When Nash returned to the suite and told me about the change of plans, I felt my entire body unclench, and I breathed a sigh I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in.
“Okay.” I studied him. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean…you want to do this?”
Nash nodded, some of the disappointment clearing from his features. “Oh, yeah. Cam said I could collaborate with him, perform.”
His excitement caused me to smile, even as my stomach tightened again. I hated the idea of going out onstage, and I couldn’t imagine a worse experience than having thousands of eyes trained on me, expecting musical perfection. I suppressed a shudder.
Nash stood from his chair and stretched. “Want to watch something?”
I smiled and scooted over on the bed, my belly flipping as a thin slice of his tanned stomach flashed into view. I patted the space next to me, my mouth too dry to speak.
“Ay?”
“You pick.” I smiled as I handed him the remote from the bedside table, trying to regulate my breathing.
He plopped onto the bed and shoved another pillow behind his back. Just then Steve poked his head through the connecting door, a frown on his face. He opened his mouth and I tensed, ready for him to tell Nash to come back to their room.
But his gaze softened as he watched Nash wiggle into a comfortable position, toeing off his shoes. Steve’s gaze met mine, and I read the concern there, as well as a stern demand to behave. I nodded and settled back against the pillows, keeping space between Nash and me.
“I’ll leave the door open so you can come to bed when you finish your show,” Steve said.
“Sure.” Nash nodded, never taking his eyes from the screen as he flicked through the options. “Oooh, look, Ay, they got the new horror flick.”
I shuddered even as I sighed in acquiescence. It wasn’t that horror films terrified me—they didn’t—but I wasn’t big into gore, and that was Nash’s preference. Still, something about him seemed off tonight, and he needed this. I’d just have to close my eyes against all the blood.
Steve sent me a sympathetic look as he leaned against the door frame, and my concern for Nash ratcheted up. But then Nash pressed play, so I settled in.
Steve finally stopped hovering in the doorway about halfway through the movie. The next scene proved even grosser than the previous ones, and I buried my face in Nash’s chest. His arm came around my shoulder, and he patted me in an absent way that told me he was deeply engrossed. I sighed and closed my eyes, relaxing against his side.
I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, the credits were rolling. Nash shifted, trying to reach the lamp, which was on the other side of me.
He glanced down and noted my opened eyes. His seemed stormy, his unguarded face filled with anguish.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
His jaw clenched so hard, I heard his teeth clack together. Maybe I lifted my palm and cupped his cheek because I was still half asleep. Or maybe not… I rubbed my thumb over his lip. His breath puffed against my skin, and I shivered as the tension eased from his body.
He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me flush against him. His hands splayed wider, covering more of me as he rolled over, pressing me into the mattress. My hips cradled his, my arms twining around his neck, slithering into his hair.
“Nash,” I whispered. “What is it?
“My dad doesn’t want me here,” he said.
“Well, your father is a jealous idiot.”
“You told me that months ago.”
I nodded. “I remember.”
Brad’s comments must have cut deep. I understood that all too well. I leaned up and kissed him, pulling back quickly, though I didn’t want to. “I’m sorry.”
He rested his forehead against the side of my neck, and I shivered as his lips brushed the sensitive skin there. I cuddled closer. He pressed his hips forward, bumping against my leggings and the soft flesh beneath—a question. I opened my legs wider, wanting him, wanting this.
“Aya…” he murmured. He rose up on his elbows, brushing the hair from my forehead. I tipped my head in invitation, and he leaned down, our breath mingling.
We tensed at the sound of footfalls coming toward the open doorway. Nash flopped onto his back next to me, turning his head on the pillow. I lay there, sprawled, heart thumping, cursing Steve.
Nash’s gaze cut to the door. “I’m coming to bed in a sec.”
“All right,” Steve said. “Goodnight, Aya.”
My smile trembled but I managed, “Goodnight.”
Nash cleared his throat. “When do you leave?”
I bit my lip. “I can stay through Sunday.” That was three days from now. “There’s a flight out Sunday evening. It’s a red-eye…”
“So after the show?” he asked, hopeful.
“I...”
He rose up on his elbow and used his free hand to press his finger to my lips. “Trust me, Ay. If you stay for the show, I’ll get you to Boston.”
14
Nash
The next afternoon, Camden Grace strode into the green room at Bridgestone Arena after his sound check, his dark hair messy and a bit damp. He’d played the Grand Ole Opry the night before, but tonight was a much larger show—in terms of both seats and tech—than the intimate version. His eyes flitted around, taking in not just the people in the room, but the furniture, the exits…everything. He pulled a Werther’s from his pocket and popped it in his mouth. Cam’s longtime head of security, Chuck, followed a step behind. A deep scowl settled on Chuck’s face, causing him to look even burlier.
Their gazes turned to Aya and me, and Aya shrank back a couple of inches, easing behind me. No doubt she worried this reception would be like what she’d gotten from Beanie last week. But I felt myself shaking with excitement.
Cam held out his hand as he walked toward me, smiling, some of the darkness lifting from his eyes. “Nash. It’s good to have you ’round again.”
His voice was low, smoky but smooth. A new tune popped into my head, and I struggled not to hum it aloud as we shook. Excitement licked over my skin as more of the melody flowed, smooth as glass, through my head.
“We missed you at the recording sessions for the rest of the album,” he noted. “You’ll have to give me your opinion now, though I could have used it then.”
“I was hanging out with Aya,” I said with a shrug.
Cam’s gaze slid over my shoulder. His smile turned gentle. “And you’re Aya?”
She squeaked a little as she stepped forward. “Yes, sir.”
Cam chuckled. “None of that sir business, now. I decommissioned a while back and plan to keep it that way.” He winked as he offered his hand.