“Don’t mention it,” he muttered.

  She touched his arm. “I know you guys didn’t do this to be malicious. And I know what you’re doing now is hard.”

  He swallowed and met her gaze. “We owe it to you guys. The band is important to both of us. We can learn to live with this part.”

  “Thank you.” She squeezed his arm and then withdrew her hand. “We all have to be there for each other out here on the road. So if you need anything, even if you just want to talk, I’m here. Okay?”

  A.J. nodded. It was weird, getting sympathy and support from one of the people who’d felt most betrayed by him getting involved with Jude. And it made him feel worse for not resisting the temptation. His bandmates were good people. They worked hard. They deserved better.

  “Thanks,” he murmured. “I’m, uh, okay for now, though.”

  “The offer’s there if you need it.”

  He nodded. “You should . . . your voice. You—”

  “I know. But it was worth it to make sure you’re all right.”

  Well, now he felt like a complete jackass. Shiloh actually cared about him. Or maybe she was just feeling him out to make sure he and Jude didn’t kill each other onstage that night.

  While Shiloh made herself some tea and rested her voice, A.J. left the bus, ostensibly to find his drum tech and start setting up his rig. Really, he just wanted to get outside and be alone for a few minutes. To get some air, as Connor always did.

  And of course, the minute he stepped off the bus, there was Jude.

  Bleary-eyed. Quiet. Smoking against the venue wall.

  Their eyes met. The question was still there in Jude’s expression.

  Can we talk?

  A.J. looked away and kept walking. Maybe they’d talk eventually. Maybe he’d be okay eventually.

  But not tonight.

  Chapter 25

  Three or four days later—being on the road did weird things to Jude’s perception of time—the band was on some straight, flat stretch of interstate again. He couldn’t quite remember where the next show was. Somewhere in Michigan or something? Wherever.

  They’d pulled into a truck stop in the middle of nowhere, and everyone was slowly trickling back to the bus. He was outside smoking, of course. Connor and Kristy were still out, but no one was in a huge hurry, and Jude admittedly didn’t mind a break from Connor’s presence.

  Especially since he couldn’t get a break from A.J.’s. As he’d expected, touring and performing with his now-ex was tough, but they were getting through it. One show at a time. One mile at a time. One quiet but civil moment of eye contact at a time.

  Today, though, he was restless. He needed to talk to A.J., and whether they liked it or not, it couldn’t wait. After all, they’d promised the band and each other that they’d be professional. Even if starting the conversation wasn’t the most comfortable prospect in the world, it was necessary.

  Suck it up. The band comes first.

  He put out his cigarette, took a deep breath, and boarded the bus.

  A.J. hadn’t yet settled in. He was rummaging around in a duffel bag, his Kindle and MP3 player on a cushion as if to let the others know he planned to sit there.

  “Hey.” Jude muffled a cough. “Do you have a few minutes?”

  A.J. lifted his gaze.

  Behind him, Shiloh lowered her book. Vanessa pulled out one of her earbuds. Jude was pretty sure he sensed Richie’s gaze on his back.

  A.J. glanced around as if searching for an escape.

  “About the music,” Jude added quietly.

  A.J. met his gaze again. “Um. Okay?”

  Jude resisted the urge to find something for his fingers to tap. “There’s a . . . a section of ‘Eagle Eyes’ that I think, um, needs some work.”

  Standing straighter, A.J. narrowed his eyes. “Problem with the percussion?”

  “Well, the rhythm section. Both of us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think we’re drowning each other out. I’m wondering if we should move a couple of parts around.”

  A.J. shifted a little, some of the tension leaving his posture as he slid his hands into his pockets. “You mean during the chorus, right?”

  “Yeah. The thing is, it works in the recording, but live . . .” Jude shook his head. “Is it just me?”

  A.J. gnawed his lip. His eyes lost focus, and he bobbed his head subtly, as if nodding to the unheard beat. After moment, he met Jude’s gaze. “No, it’s not just you. What do you suggest?”

  Behind him, Vanessa and Shiloh exchanged wide-eyed glances.

  “I’m not sure,” Jude said. “I mean, it’s a solid drum part. I don’t think we should kill it.”

  “But the bass line is good too.”

  “I know. I’m . . . I mean, maybe we should try a few things during sound check tomorrow night.”

  A.J. nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I can have my tech set me up early, and we can give it a try.”

  “Sure. Good. I can be there. Maybe half hour before sound check?”

  “Okay.”

  Jude smiled. “All right.”

  They held each other’s gazes, and some of that awkwardness tried to creep in, but then they broke eye contact and went their separate ways. A.J. settled into his seat with his book and music. Jude went into the back to dig out his phone charger.

  As soon as he was away from everyone else, behind the curtain dividing the sleeping area from the rest of the bus, he closed his eyes and released a breath. So that hadn’t been as painful as he’d expected. Difficult, yes, but they’d gotten through it. Tomorrow night, they’d rehearse together, figure out why the song wasn’t working, and have it sorted out before the show.

  We’ve got this. We can do this.

  The curtain squeaked across its tracks. He turned around as Shiloh stepped in.

  She closed the curtain behind her. “Hey.”

  He swallowed. “Hey.”

  “So, um . . .” She folded her arms loosely. “Do you, uh, want any of the rest of us to be there early tomorrow night?”

  “No, I think we can sort it out. It’s mostly a bass and percussion issue, so—”

  “That’s not what I meant.” She tilted her head. “Are you two . . .”

  “Oh.” Jude waved his hand. “No, no. We’ll be fine. You saw us out there.” He gestured past her. “We’re good.”

  She held his gaze, and after a moment, she nodded. “Yeah. You seem to be.”

  “So, why are we having this conversation?”

  “Well, I . . .” Shiloh shifted her weight. “I don’t know. Maybe you guys have this under control more than I thought you did.”

  “Thanks?”

  She laughed softly. “You know what I mean. We’re all kind of on edge.”

  “Yeah.” He sighed, resting his forearm along the upper rack—A.J.’s, he realized a second too late—and pressing his forehead against it. “I know you are. And I’m sorry.”

  Shiloh was quiet for a few seconds. Then she stepped a little closer. “I know this is hard for you guys, but . . . thank you. For being civil.”

  “We said we would be.” He closed his eyes. “And yeah, it’s hard.”

  So much harder than it should be.

  She touched his arm. “I believe it. But after you and Connor, and after Wyatt and Connor, I have to admit, I expected—”

  “You do realize Connor is the common denominator there, right?” He’d known it was true when A.J. said it, but it really clicked now that he’d repeated it to Shiloh.

  “Yeah.” She withdrew her hand. “Trust me, I’m well aware of that.”

  He raised his head. “But?”

  Shiloh swallowed. “But I also know that anyone is going to struggle when they’re in close confines with someone they’d just as soon be away from.”

  I don’t want to be away from him.

  Who am I kidding? I want to be on the other side of the world from him.

  Bullshit. I want—

  He shook himself and raked a hand through his hair. “We promised you guys we’d make this work. If it’s tough, it’s our problem.”

  “And there was a time when you would’ve made it our problem.”

  He glared at her, but before he could speak, she put up her hand.

  “Jude, you know what I mean. You’ve changed. You’ve grown up a lot.” She smiled. “I just wanted you to know I appreciate that.”

  He exhaled, relaxing a bit. “Thanks for not kicking us out. Giving us a chance to get our shit together.”

  “Isn’t like we had much choice. We need you. Both of you.”

  “It’s mutual, believe me.”

  “I know.” She stepped closer and hugged him gently. “I know this is hard. But . . . I think you guys will be okay.”

  A lump of unwelcome emotion rose in Jude’s throat, but he tamped it down. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

  She let him go. “You’ll be fine. Just let me know if you guys need anyone there tomorrow night.”

  He smirked. “You think we need adult supervision?”

  “Oh. Sweetie.” She laughed and rolled her eyes. “I know you need adult supervision.”

  Jude chuckled. “Shut up.”

  She winked and then returned to the main part of the bus, shutting the curtain behind her.

  He kneaded some tension out of his neck and shoulders. Another smoke would probably do him some good, but . . . no. He was already on the verge of chain-smoking. They all had to be on the bus for long hours at a stretch, and he needed to be able to cope with that, so he resisted the temptation.

  And speaking of temptation . . .

  He tried to push thoughts of A.J. out of his mind. It was even harder now, though. They had gotten along, hadn’t they? It was still awkward, but the aftermath of their breakup wasn’t the nuclear fallout of his and Connor’s. And their relationship hadn’t been as volatile, either.

  He gazed at the divider, as if he could somehow see A.J. through it. What if they could make it work? What if they could put the band first and still be together?

  It wouldn’t be worth the risk. There was too much on the line.

  Wasn’t there?

  He shook himself. You’re being an idiot. It’s over. Let it go.

  But what if we didn’t have to—

  Let it. Go.

  He tamped down on those thoughts. It was over. It was done. The band needed him more than A.J. did, and A.J. needed the band too much for Jude to be this selfish. It didn’t matter how much he wanted A.J.—it was done.

  So he found the phone charger he’d been looking for, joined the rest of the group in the living area, and settled in for the next few hours on the road.

  And tried like hell not to sweat over tomorrow night’s sound check.

  Chapter 26

  Forty-five minutes before sound check, A.J. was ready.

  He sat at his drum set, warming up his hands and arms with a few easy cadences. Or at least that’s what he told himself. He didn’t need to warm up until closer to the beginning of the show, but he did need to do something with all this nervous energy before Jude joined him.

  Ever since their brief discussion yesterday, he’d questioned Jude’s motives. Was this just a ploy to get him alone? An attempt to show the band that they could work together?

  But then he’d listened to ‘Eagle Eyes,’ and replayed the live version in his mind, and he’d had to admit—Jude was right. Something was off. No matter how much he tried to tell himself otherwise, there was no pretending they didn’t have a legitimate reason for some one-on-one stage time.

  We’re bandmates. We can work together. Why am I being such an idiot about this?

  Naturally, Jude picked that exact moment to step out from backstage.

  A.J. gulped. Right. That was why he was being such an idiot—because Jude was still smoking hot, and A.J. was still way more attracted to him than he needed to be.

  Jude stopped in front of the drums, which were on a slightly raised platform, and set his water bottle down. “You ready?”

  Not really.

  “Yeah. I’m ready.” A.J. idly clicked his drumsticks on the edge of the snare. “So, should we go through it once and see if we can hear the problem?”

  “Sounds like a good idea.” Jude adjusted the bass’s strap, pulled a guitar pick from his pocket, and looked up at him. “Count us in?”

  A.J. hit the sticks together to set the tempo and then called out, “Two, three, four!”

  And they were off. Eyes locked, nodding in time with the beat, they played through the first and second verse of the troublesome song. Thank God for muscle memory. With no flashing strobes or swirling spotlights to pull his focus away from Jude, he was lucky he knew when and where to hit the drumheads.

  Fortunately, though, even without the rest of the band—no guitars, no vocals—the song came together well enough.

  And then . . . it didn’t. Two beats into the chorus, and it was just noise. The drums overpowered the bass, and the bass seemed to numb the whole percussion line, smoothing the minute gaps between beats that were supposed to be sharp and distinct.

  They both stopped.

  “You’re right.” He scowled. “There’s definitely a problem there.”

  “Yeah, and I don’t get it—it sounds fine on the album.”

  A.J. tapped his heel on the foot of the stool. “Let me hear it again. Start three bars before the chorus.”

  “Can do.”

  A.J. counted them off, and they played the transition again. Not halfway through, Jude put up a hand, and they stopped.

  “I think I figured it out.”

  A.J. raised his eyebrows.

  “Right before the chorus starts, back off for a bar and a half. Let me play you in, and then I’ll back off until the end of the chorus. When you come in, blast the intro hard.”

  Well, that was a possible solution. A.J. wasn’t sure how effective it would be, but it was certainly worth a shot. So, when they played it again, A.J. backed off per Jude’s suggestion, letting the bass take over. Jude crescendoed more dramatically than he had previously, and when A.J. came in, he played loud and hard. The drums still drowned out the bass, but now it sounded like a deliberate effect—as if Jude’s part was an intro to A.J.’s drum solo. An overture of sorts.

  They both stopped, and A.J. reached for his water bottle. “I think this works.”

  “Yeah. Me too. Go through it a few more times just to make sure?”

  A.J. took a swig of water. Then he picked up his sticks again, and they rehearsed the modified transition until it was concert-ready.

  By the time they’d been through the song several times, he was definitely confident they’d fixed the problem. He stood, dropping his drumsticks in the can beside his seat. “We’ll run through it with the rest of the band during sound check, but I think we’re good now.”

  Jude nodded. “Yeah, it sounds great.” He smiled, though it seemed a little forced. “Thanks for . . . you know . . .”

  A.J.’s smile probably wasn’t much more convincing. “Don’t mention it. We’re in this together.”

  Jude took a breath like he was about to speak, but paused. And the pause went on. And on. And he was looking at A.J., a weird expression that seemed like a mix of hurt and . . . something. A.J. couldn’t quite put his finger on it, especially as the awkwardness between them swelled to the point of unbearable.

  Then Jude rolled his shoulders and cleared his throat. “Yeah. We are. In this together, I mean.” He leaned down to get his own water. “I’m going to go grab a smoke before everyone else gets here.”

  “Okay. Yeah.” That was weird. “See you at sound check.”

  “Yeah. See you then.”

  With that, Jude left, and as he walked offstage, he walked right past Vanessa and Richie, who were on their way in with their guitar techs. The techs kept walking, guitars and coiled cords in hand, but Vanessa and Richie halted. They glanced at Jude, then each other, then A.J.

  “So, uh . . .” Richie raised his eyebrows as A.J. stepped down off his platform. “You guys cool?”

  “Yeah.” A.J. waved a hand. “Just had to work out some issues with ‘Eagle Eyes.’”

  Vanessa studied him. “So it’s not . . .”

  “No. We’re fine.” He forced a smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Richie furrowed his brow, lips tightening, but didn’t say anything.

  Vanessa glanced in the direction Jude had gone. “He’s coming back for sound check, though, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah. He just went out for a smoke.”

  “Oh.” She looked at Richie. They both shrugged. “Well, Connor and Shiloh are on their way in. Guess we’d better get set up.”

  They continued past him.

  He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

  The whole thing had gone smoothly. It wasn’t easy, being onstage alone with Jude, but he’d done it. They’d done it. And he was okay.

  Maybe they really could do this after all.

  As the tour went on, A.J. kept to himself more and more. He was professional onstage, during interviews, and any other time he was expected to interact with Jude. They’d proven they could be cordial to each other, and maybe they’d work on this whole “being friends” thing later. For now, he needed a little time to regroup. “Friends” would have to wait until he could look at Jude without feeling that ache in his chest.

  God. He was going insane. What the hell was the matter with him? This wasn’t how a person got over a fuck buddy.

  Whatever. Whatever Jude had been, it was time for A.J. to get over him.

  The buses continued weaving their way across the country, and the band continued performing, leaving ‘Unseen’ off the set list and all their bullshit off the stage.

  In Chicago, apparently Richie had caught wind of a club that everyone was suddenly dying to check out. As everyone got ready to leave, Shiloh stopped beside the table where A.J. had been reading.