Mended (Connections, #3)(26)

I nod and she turns and leaves the lounge. I watch her until she disappears. Then I open the fridge and grab an apple. Taking a bite, I chew it and grin—all in all, that didn’t go that badly.

? ? ?

Time seems to tick by so slowly the rest of the day. Staring out the window at a stream that meanders through fields on its own sweet time, I kick myself for not pushing it with her. Why wade through the stream instead of jumping over it? Yet I know I have to take it slow with her or she’ll keep retreating—and I want her around. I’ve lived on this bus for six months with eight other dudes, and it’s been nothing but comfortably boring. Having Ivy on board has already made everything different—I feel a buzz of energy in the air and everything seems more alive.

By the time we finally arrive in Denver, I’m ready to blast into action. We get right to work, which I’m glad about because it takes my mind off her. I’m in a hurry to get in as much rehearsal time as I can. And at least the tension between Ivy and me melts away when she’s onstage. We both act professional and don’t let our past interfere with the music. I use today’s sound check as more of a rehearsal, so it lasts three hours. The guys are ready to be done, but I think we need more practice. I want their performances to be perfect. A lineup of forty songs means learning a shitload of material, so we keep going over and over them. Leif switches between keyboard and bass, depending on the song. His versatility has proved to be a great addition to the band.

“Okay, let’s call it for now,” I yell.

“It’s about f*cking time,” Nix snarls at me.

Leif thumps his shoulder and heads to the keyboard with the corner of his mouth turned up. Leaning over it, he closes his eyes and hits some notes. He seems to be playing a song, but the words that leave his mouth sound more like a rap. The melancholy of it draws me in. I take a seat and just listen until he’s done.

“That’s a showstopper,” I comment, meeting him at the bottom of the stairs as he walks off the stage.

“Yeah, well, it’s not meant for the audience Ivy sings to.”

I shoot him a small grin. “You’re full of all kinds of surprises. But really, I liked it.”

He shrugs. “Thanks, man. Had a buddy years ago and rapping was his thing. What can I say—he taught me well.”

“Not to change the subject, but what’s your take on learning all the band’s songs in such a short period of time?”

He sighs with what looks like an authentic worry line creasing his brow before he confesses, “Honestly, I’m not sure it’s going to happen.”

That’s not what I wanted to hear.

He turns and heads backstage to get ready for the show, throwing over his shoulder, “Gotcha, dude! We got this nailed.”

I grin with relief.

Showtime comes quickly and ends just as quickly. There are good shows and bad shows and this one is definitely not great. The arena is filled at about seventy-five percent—not bad, considering we’ve switched leads in mid tour. But Ellie has arranged for some special effects to welcome Ivy, and the streamers just seem to take away from the set, and the guys are off the rest of the night after that.

Fresh from the stage, the band and the crew are digging in to the food backstage. Leif has a penchant for wine and opens a few bottles of red. He sniffs the contents of a bottle and then pours a glass. After he takes a sip he pours some for everyone. By eleven thirty we all smell like red wine and are pretty drunk. Knowing it’s time to leave, we take the backstage door and head to the bus, which pulls out at midnight. We won’t be staying in a hotel until we get to Lincoln.

Garrett walks beside me, complaining about the streamer gimmick. Just as we start to cross the parking lot, at least two dozen fans come rushing over to Ivy, begging for pictures and autographs. I stop and glance at Leif. The others keep moving—all except for Garrett, who’s still talking.

Leif stops as well, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll wait for her.”

I nod, already having decided I’d wait for her.

He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and taps it against his hand, then pulls one out and hands the pack to me.

“No, thanks, man,” I say. “That’s one vice I never took up.”

“Good thing, because it’s a f*cking hard habit to break.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“I only smoke when I’m drinking and never inside,” Leif clarifies, as if I cared.

“I’ll take one of those,” Garrett says.

I just look at him and shake my head. He lights the cigarette and inhales, then exhales smoke in a huge cough.

“You’re such a f*cking retard,” I tell him.

“What? I used to smoke.”

“Yeah, when you could sneak one behind the school grounds in the sixth grade.” I laugh.

Garrett stubs his cigarette out. “I’m going to make like Tom and Cruise. You coming?” he asks me.

Shaking my head, I tell him, “I’ll stick around with Leif and wait for Ivy.”

I have an uneasy feeling about leaving her with just Leif. She’s pretty tight with him and he seems to watch over her, but if something happens, he’d never be able to handle it himself—from what I can tell he’s definitely more of a lover than a fighter. I make a note to myself to talk to Ena about additional security. I’ll have her call River’s security guy, Caleb, and get some recommendations.