Fragile by A.K. Evans

Thirteen

Cash

“I’m beat.”

That came from Walker.

“Agreed,” I said from beside him.

We had all just piled into the limo that was taking us back to our hotel for the night. We’d just played our fourth show in five days. It was Sunday night, or technically, early Monday morning, and we’d all decided that after tonight’s performance we needed to head back to our hotel.

Not only were we exhausted but we were also leaving California early Monday afternoon and beginning our trek back to the east coast. If there was any hope of making sure we were all ready to go on time, we couldn’t risk a night out.

Then again, with the exception of Roscoe and Killian, I wasn’t sure anyone could have handled an all-nighter. Maybe handle wasn’t the correct word. I had no doubt that any one of us could manage it, but the reality was that we didn’t want to.

Of course, a lot of it made sense now. Holland and Walker often called it quits early; though, I think they’d put some distance between their departure from a night out so nobody got suspicious.

For me, I’d always been right there alongside Roscoe and Killian. But now that I’d met Demi, I no longer had that same desire to go out on the prowl.

And Beck… well, he could go either way. Some days he was all about it, and other times, he wasn’t. It just depended on what his mood was like.

“I think these last few days were the worst of it for us,” Beck chimed in.

“Yeah, and it’ll be nice to have a slightly longer stretch between shows once we make it back to Pennsylvania,” Holland added.

“At least the fans here made it all worth it,” Killian declared.

There was a round of nods from all of us as I said, “No arguments there.”

That had been the case. Obviously, we all loved what we did. But in the moments when we started to feel the strain of a long tour, we had to find ways to look at the positives. More often than not, we always found that with our fans.

It was hard to be upset, frustrated, or anything but grateful when we were able to live out our dreams of being on stage when we had thousands of screaming fans who were excited about seeing our performance.

“And the groupies made it even better,” Roscoe blurted.

At that, we all burst out laughing. That was Roscoe. He had zero problem finding the absolute best in every situation. As was not uncommon for him, as long as he had music, booze, women, friends, and fans, he’d play music every night. The man enjoyed this life in every aspect and loved all that came with it. Sometimes, it was a little too much love.

Though, right now, I felt the tiniest twinge of jealousy. There hadn’t been a shortage of physical intimacy for Roscoe on the tour. On the other hand, I was in a drought. I felt like I’d been stranded in the middle of the desert for months. I just wanted one tiny sip of water.

“Holland’s right,” Walker began after we’d all settled down. “Even though we still have a couple shows, it’ll be nice to be back home and have those few days to relax and enjoy some time off.”

While I didn’t disagree with the sentiment, I couldn’t help but notice how he had brought Holland into it. Had he always done that?

It was far too late, and I was entirely too wiped out to think about it.

“Anyone up for a beer in the hotel bar?” Roscoe added.

Killian immediately answered, “I’m down.”

“Ah, why not?” Beck agreed.

It was like they’d all done a one-eighty.

“I’m out,” Walker said.

“Me too,” Holland replied.

When all their eyes came to me, I shook my head.

“Fuck, Cash, are you still holding out hope that Demi’s going to change her mind about you?” Killian asked.

“She has,” I declared.

“What?” Holland gasped.

Shaking my head because I knew she misunderstood, I explained, “Technically, she hasn’t. But I have been talking to her on the phone for the last week.”

“Really?” Walker asked.

I nodded.

“After all this time, she finally gave you her number,” Roscoe proudly announced. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks, jackass,” I shot back.

I couldn’t bring myself to tell them that Demi hadn’t technically given me her number. God, that would have been embarrassing. It hadn’t ever taken me this long. Hell, it hadn’t ever come close to being this long. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I had to have set some world record. Surely, this was not normal.

A few minutes later, we pulled up outside the hotel. We’d barely gotten out of the limo when a group of women came up to us.

We entertained them for a few moments, taking pictures and signing autographs. Eventually, we made our way inside, where Beck, Roscoe, and Killian took off toward the bar while Holland, Walker, and I made our way to the elevators.

Once it had made it to our floor and the doors opened, I had to go in one direction while they went in the other.

“See you in the morning,” I said.

“Good night, Cash,” Holland replied.

“Later,” Walker returned.

I started moving down the hall and felt the corners of my mouth twitch. Walker and Holland had us all fooled. Or, they used to.

Whatever.

Right now, things were good in the band. If they were happy and whatever they had going on between them wasn’t affecting the rest of us, more power to them.

I made it to my room, pushed inside, and let out a deep sigh.

My goal was to shower, pack up my things, and get to bed. I didn’t want to have to worry about packing in the morning because Demi typically called me on her lunch break, which was early morning here. There was not a chance I was missing her call or being distracted when it came in, especially when I hadn’t had a chance to talk to her all weekend. Since she didn’t go into the bar on the weekend to work, unless there was a band playing—in which case she’d be tied up with that—I quickly became aware I wasn’t going to hear from her on Saturdays or Sundays. That realization yesterday morning had been humbling, to say the least.

Oddly enough, getting those calls from her over the last week had been some of the best moments I’d had on this part of the tour. Yes, it was great being on stage and performing for the fans, but having the chance to talk to Demi simply made my day.

I couldn’t wait until I could see her again.

And I hoped that when it happened a few months from now that she and I would be in an even better place than we were right now. As much as I would have liked to push for more now, I figured there was no point in rushing it.

I wasn’t going to see her until we returned to New Hampshire in the fall, so I’d take this time now to form a deeper bond with her. Up to this point, our conversations had been mostly lighthearted and surface level. We hadn’t gotten into anything really deep, but I was okay with that for now. We had the time to take it slow.

My only hope was that this time was going to help us foster a healthier relationship once we were face-to-face again. We couldn’t continue to go at each other the way we had in the beginning.

Not quite an hour after I’d gotten back to my room, I’d showered and packed. Just as I was about to get into bed, I decided to take a quick look at my phone. Sometimes, especially right after a performance, there’d be news reports. There was occasionally something worth reading.

But the moment I picked up my phone and put a knee to the bed, I froze.

A text from a number I didn’t recognize.

But that didn’t matter because the sender had included her name.

Fuck.

Demi had texted me. That meant she wasn’t on the phone in the bar.

Had she just given me her number?

Needing a minute to come to terms with it, I slowly twisted my body and fell to my back in the bed.

I was making progress with her.

My firecracker.

If the old Cash could see me now he’d be laughing at me for thinking of a girl as mine.

My firecracker.

I didn’t care. She was.

And I intended to see to it that she didn’t regret taking this step.

Even though I knew she was probably still sleeping, I had to respond to her message wishing me a great show earlier that evening.

Me: It did. And now my night has just gotten better. We’re down to thirteen.

With that, I set the phone on the nightstand and rolled to my stomach in an attempt to find sleep. Just an hour ago I’d felt exhausted. Now, my body was buzzing with excitement. Demi and I had turned a corner.

I couldn’t wait to see what the morning brought.

“You’re only hours away now.”

That came from Demi.

It was Thursday morning, and I’d just had the best week of my life. Well, it hadn’t been a full week just yet. Ever since Demi texted me on Sunday night, nothing had dampened my mood.

I no longer had to wait for her to reach out to me when I wanted to talk to her. If it was in the middle of the day and I thought she might be busy at work, I could simply shoot a text off to her and share whatever was on my mind.

Sometimes, it was a simple text telling her about whatever was happening with the band. Other times, I’d ask how her day was going. Mostly, I used the texting just to let her know that I was thinking about her.

I tried not to be so obvious about it.

Because the truth was that if I reached out to her every time I was thinking about her, I’d have a constant open line to her.

I hadn’t been this consumed by someone ever. It was a strange feeling for me, but it was one that kept me excited.

“I know,” I responded with a smile on my face. “I can’t wait to get back home.”

“You realize you’re heading home to Pennsylvania but that the tour isn’t over yet, right?” Demi asked.

Letting out a laugh, I answered, “I know. But we’re that much closer. It’s almost twelve weeks until I’m back in New Hampshire.”

“Is that really all you’re looking forward to?” she questioned me.

I was done with holding back.

Demi had opened the door a few days ago by reaching out with her text. We’d communicated regularly in the days that followed.

She knew where I stood; she knew I wanted her.

And even though she didn’t verbally indicate that the feeling was mutual, she definitely didn’t hand me the same attitude she had the very first time I’d gone to New Hampshire and saw her working at the hotel. That told me that perhaps her perspective was shifting, and I had to believe that she wasn’t the kind of woman who’d string someone along if her heart wasn’t softening just a bit.

Her heart.

Never did I think I’d be considering the state of a woman’s heart like this.

“It’s not so much about the location for me. It’s about who’s there that makes me wish I was flying there instead of a few states south later today,” I shared.

In her typical fashion, unable to accept the truth of what I was saying, Demi said, “Oh, yeah, I mean, everyone at Granite is so excited for you to come back. I can see why having that level of appreciation would draw you back here. Cal and Sam are particularly excited.”

I loved it.

I loved that she tried to do anything she could to avoid admitting that perhaps she was looking forward to seeing me just as much as anyone else, if not as much as I was looking forward to seeing her.

“What about you?” I asked, wondering if I might be pushing it too much.

“What about me?”

“Do you feel even a smidgen of excitement about seeing me again?” I asked.

Demi hesitated to answer. I held out, waiting for her to respond. Eventually, she did, and she didn’t fail to make me laugh.

“My Violent Heart is going to be playing again at Granite,” she started. “Why wouldn’t I be excited about seeing one of my favorite bands play live?”

“You’ll do anything to avoid admitting you like me, won’t you?” I pressed.

“I like your music, Cash,” she insisted.

“That’s all?”

She huffed. “Okay, fine, I’m excited for you to get here in a couple months so that I can make sure you know how to keep your clothes on,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“I saw the pictures from your last two performances,” she shared. “You took your shirt off somewhere in the middle of it.”

I grinned. She was keeping tabs on me.

Yep.

Demi liked me.

She just didn’t know how to handle it.

“And you’re saying you don’t think that was a good look?” I replied. Demi didn’t respond. When too much time passed without a response, I guessed, “Or maybe you think it’s a great look, and you don’t want to share what’s for you with the world.”

“I never said that!” she gasped.

“You don’t have to. Your silence said everything. But don’t worry. I’m a changed man, firecracker. If it makes you uncomfortable, I’m keeping my shirt on for the remainder of the tour.”

“Cash, I didn’t—”

“It’s done, Demi,” I cut her off. “No sense in arguing. I’m saving my body for the next time I see you. The fans might be disappointed, but all I care about is making sure you’re satisfied.”

Following an extended silence, she murmured, “You’re crazy.”

“Only about you.”

“Does it get tiring?” she asked, catching me off guard.

“What?”

“Carrying that big head of yours around all day long,” she replied.

I burst out laughing.

The feeling that this woman gave me in just having a phone conversation was unbelievable. I never knew it could be like this with a woman.

In all fairness, I hadn’t ever given it the chance with anyone else, but that didn’t matter to me now. I had her, and she was definitely more than enough for me.

As soon as I pulled myself together, I said, “Fuck, I can’t wait to see you.”

“So, let’s make it happen,” she challenged.

“What?” I asked, my body going solid.

“Tomorrow. After your show,” she suggested. “We can video chat… unless that’s not good enough for you.”

I went from feeling excited to feeling high. I’d always been grateful that nobody in the band had gone down that road and gotten hooked on drugs. But right now, I understood the allure.

Demi was like a drug for me.

I’d do anything for more of her.

“Tomorrow,” I rasped, my throat tight at the prospect of what tomorrow would bring.

“I probably should get going now,” she said softly.

“Right. Yeah. Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I told her.

“No. You’ll see me tomorrow,” she reminded me, her voice sultry and seductive.

Jesus. She was so fucking sexy, and I wasn’t even looking at her.

I was going to need to take care of business with my hand again before I walked out of my hotel room to get on a plane to head home.

“You definitely will,” I promised.

“Oh, wait. Before I forget,” she declared. “Can you do me a huge favor and ask Holland to give me a call?”

“Sure. Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Yes. Um, well, Sam came up with a few new T-shirts and wanted to see what Holland thought about them.”

“I could give you my opinion,” I offered.

Demi let out a quiet laugh. “I appreciate that, and I’m sure Sam does, too, but these are women’s shirts. I get that you’re into being half naked all the time, but you don’t strike me as the type who wears shirts that are cut for women’s bodies.”

Well, there went that opportunity. “Right. I’ll give Holland your number and have her reach out before we get on the plane.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Have a safe flight,” she said.

“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

With that, Demi and I disconnected.

I already had my pants unzipped and my cock in my hand before I even set the phone down. This woman was going to be my undoing.

How the hell was I going to last another three months?