Down to My Soul (Soul Series Book 2)(39)

“Hey, Dad.”

He looks up, his expression surprised that I’m still here.

“What you said in there.” I falter, unsure of how to finish what I started. “It was . . . well, thanks. It meant a lot.”

He doesn’t respond, just looks kind of thrown before nodding and giving me a smile that, for the first time in a long time, I find easy to return.





YOU WANTED THIS. YOU WORKED FOR this. You dreamt of this.

Those reminders chant in my head as I go through the new routine Dub wants to introduce for the European leg of our tour for what feels like the hundredth time. And I still can’t quite get it. I’m a step behind, short of breath. My synapses seem to be misfiring. We’ve been in London for two days, and we open tomorrow night. All I want to do is go find some fish and chips and ride a double-decker bus. Maybe go see Big Ben. Visit the Poet’s Corner in Westminster Abbey.

As much as my feet hurt, as much as my eyes burn, as tired as I am, I’d settle for the inside of my hotel room. I’d settle for my bed.

“Kai, you with us?” Dub leaps down from the platform where two dancers simulate a club scene for this number.

“Huh?” I jump a little when he lands right in front of me. “Yeah, sure.”

“Good. ‘Cause when we’re done here, I had an idea to add to the lap dance for Luke’s number.”

Can I tap out? I silently beg him not to give me any more new material. I thought the week off would reinvigorate me, for this last month on the road. Re-energize me for Europe. Instead my body just realized what it had been missing and is craving more. Rest. Relaxation. Rhyson.

Mostly Rhyson.

Being back on tour, having this distance between us is ideal for the situation with my blackmailer. There are fewer chances to slip up and provoke him to release that sex tape, but I miss Rhyson. And even though San reports little progress, and the threat still looms, if I were in LA, I’d find a way to be with Rhyson, no matter how much I had to sneak around. Despite the risk.

But I’m not in LA with Rhyson. I’m here. Living the dream.

Some dream.

“Let’s catch a quick break before we take it from the top.” Dub glances at the countdown clock mounted on the sound booth in the middle of the arena. “Fifteen minutes, guys.”

Before Dub can pull me to the side to coach me on a move, or worse, not coach me. Just find an excuse to talk about nothing at all. I skip down the stage steps, barreling down the aisle before anyone stops me.

“Kai!” Dub calls from stage.

“Yeah,” I answer, but keep moving forward.

“Kai! Wait up!”

His heavy steps pound behind me. He catches up, gently taking my arm and turning me to face him.

“Wanna go grab a coffee across the street before we get started back?” His eyes travel over my face and down my body. His interest is becoming harder to ignore. I don’t want to acknowledge it to myself because eventually I’d have to acknowledge it to Rhyson. I already have a sex tape hanging over my head. With all the stress I’m under, another complication could crush me.

“I need to make a quick call.” I step back until his hands fall away. I walk backward, forcing a smile. “I’ll be back before we start.”

Without waiting for his agreement, I resume my fast pace up the aisle and out the side door that leads to the loading dock. Not a person in sight right now. Usually crew members and stagehands mill out here prepping props and equipment for the show.

I climb up onto a huge crate, scooting back until my back hits the wall and my feet can’t hang over the side. Before I select the contact in my phone, I stare at it for a few seconds.

R. Geritol.

God, so much has happened since that first night when I saved Rhyson’s number. I can’t help but remember our day at the beach in disguise. We sang “I Got You, Babe.” A laugh gurgles in my throat, and before I know it, I’m blinking back tears. Not even a week back on the road and I want to go home. I want to wake up in Rhyson’s arms tomorrow morning. I want this sex tape to go away. I want to eliminate the threat to all Rhys and I are building. To all we could have.

It’s ringing.

“Come on,” I whisper. “Pick up.”

I’m eight hours ahead of him, so it’s only six in the morning there. I know he’s been in the studio constantly and probably only got to bed a few hours ago, but I need his voice.

It’s gonna go to voicemail. Disappointment rises in my chest. I bite my lip to keep it from trembling.

“Pep?” His voice comes just as I’m about to give up, sounding weary and half-dead. I should feel guilty that I woke him up.

“Were you asleep?”

Dumb question, but he’ll let me get away with it.

“Um, pretty much.” He clears his throat, and I can almost see him dragging himself up in bed with his shoulders against the headboard. I can almost smell that space between his neck and shoulder where I tuck my head. “It’s cool. I’m glad you called.”

“Things were hectic with us just getting to London so I didn’t call yesterday.” I pull one knee up to my chest. “I wanted to see how your first session with your parents went.”

“You remembered.” I hear the smile in his voice.

“I kinda made you go. Least I could do is see how it went.”