I scoffed quietly. The only one compromising was her.
We went quiet. The audience began to chant my name. They were getting restless and I was going to have to go back.
Fuck it, let them wait.
“Why did you call me from Zane’s phone?” she asked.
“I broke mine,” I said, not volunteering the details.
She sighed. “Jason, I love you. I choose you. And I know you feel guilty because of the way things are and you don’t have to.”
I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see it. “I want you to have a life.”
“I have a life. With you.” She laughed a little. “Also, you should know that the number one reason I wouldn’t have kids with you right now is because we’re not married. Until you make an honest woman out of me, I’m not open to any negotiations.”
I could hear the smile in her voice. She was trying to cheer me up. Make light of this.
There was nothing funny about it.
I had the ring, but I wouldn’t ask her.
I didn’t want her to be like me, trapped in a long-term contract that she’d grow to regret.
Chapter 39
Sloan
♪ Ful Stop | Radiohead
The second I’d hung up with Jason, I’d darted around my room and packed my things to leave. I grabbed Tucker, said goodbye to Patricia, and had Paul drive me to the airport in Duluth so I could catch the next flight to Vegas. I didn’t tell Jason I was coming. He was so low, I wanted to surprise him. I’d told him good night when we hung up and he wasn’t expecting to hear from me until the morning.
The last five weeks had been torture. It was great seeing Kristen, and I loved cooking with Jason’s mom. I’d gotten sleep, I’d gotten healthy—and none of it compared to being with him. Not even a little.
It was going to take me at least another month to finish the piece, and I didn’t have another month in me without him. I’d already been debating coming back to the road early when we’d had our argument, and that was the deciding factor.
What he’d said scared me.
I knew this separation had been hard for him. That’s why I’d made it a point to always be happy when we talked, so he’d know his sacrifice wasn’t a waste. But now I thought maybe I should have let him see how awful it was without him. Honestly, I couldn’t even focus on what I was here to do. I spent most of my days trying to distract myself from the fact that I felt too in a funk to paint.
We were simply no good without each other. This separation had been the proof. We were both miserable. I had to go back. I wanted to fall asleep in his arms tonight and every night from now on.
Every step I took to getting back to him—getting off the plane, climbing into an Uber, walking into the hotel—made me feel elated, like I was coming home.
The road was home.
It was miraculous that I felt that way after how much it had worn me down—but it was true. Home was wherever Jason was, and knowing this gave me the world’s biggest second wind. This time was going to be different. Very different.
So much of what I’d struggled with on tour was mental. I’d kept thinking about all the things I wasn’t able to do and looking forward to the day it would be over instead of appreciating that every minute out there was time with him. And now that I’d seen what being apart was like, my brain had done a complete 180.
I could do this. I could do the crap out of this.
I’d learn to sleep on the bus. That was the very first thing on my list. I’d figure out how to eat better. I’d go with him to the gym and exercise when he did. I’d get a Crock-Pot and make us dinner so we could eat real food. I mean, the bus had a kitchen. Why not?
And why couldn’t I paint on the road if we drove at night? That would mean during the day the bus would be parked. I could paint during his sound check. I’d have to be careful, figure out a way to make sure the canvas was secure when we were moving, but it wasn’t impossible. I didn’t have to lose myself in Jason’s career, I could find myself here. Reinvent myself. Evolve.
He was going to marvel at the new me.
And you know what? Maybe we could have kids. If we got the bus outfitted with the right sleeping setup, had help? We could do anything.
I was going to channel my inner nomad. Make this work for both of us and turn these years into some of the best of our lives. Reclaim myself and support him at the same time, learn to love it. Because making him happy was the only way I could be happy—and I knew he felt that way too. That was what was bothering him about all this. He thought he was robbing me of a life. But he was my life—and we could have it all.
I stood outside Jason’s hotel room with Tucker, beaming, ready to tell him all my plans, ready to start over and do it right this time. I knocked, practically bouncing.
But when the door opened, my entire world came to a crashing halt.
Lola stood in the doorway.
I was frozen. I couldn’t even breathe. My eyes had to adjust to it like someone suddenly turning the light on in a dark room.
She wore nothing but underwear and a white Jaxon Waters sweatshirt. The room was dark behind her. She looked like she’d been sleeping.
“Yeah?” she asked lazily.
I just stared at her. I couldn’t believe it. I literally couldn’t believe it. I probably should have been afraid. She’d been harassing me and she beat up my car, but I was too shocked for afraid.
What was she doing here?
My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.
Maybe I had the wrong room? Maybe she was in Vegas for some reason and maybe they were putting her on Jason’s tour and he hadn’t told me yet because he didn’t know yet and somehow their rooms got swapped and…
The fact that I’d sent cookies to this exact room number not twelve hours ago glared like neon in the back of my mind.
I swallowed. “Is…is Jason here?”
She looked drowsily over her shoulder. “Sleeping,” she said, peering back at me.
The wind was knocked out of me.
I didn’t understand. Why would she be here? Everything we did was about keeping her from being here. We hated her. Jason didn’t want her anywhere near us, and now she was in his room?
Tucker growled low next to me, and Lola’s eyes dropped to the sound. “I’ll take him,” she murmured, reaching clumsily for the leash.
She was drunk.
I yanked him back instinctively. “No.”
I stared at the woman between me and the man I loved.
She was shorter in person than I’d expected. Prettier. She had wavy red hair that hung almost to her navel. Sharp green eyes with long fake eyelashes and perfect wing-tipped eyeliner.
Her lips were bare.
A lump started to build in my throat. “What are you doing here?” My voice shook.
She looked at me, bored, and leaned her head on the door frame. “What do you want?”
I blanched.
What do I want? I belong here. My chest started to heave.
This was the person behind all the bad things in our lives. She was the reason I’d had to ghost myself on social media, change the number I’d had when I was with Brandon. She’d had us running ourselves into the pavement to keep her from being forced on us. She was why we didn’t get days off.