This One Moment (Pushing Limits, #1)(7)

“We’re just friends.”

In Hollywood and the music industry that was the code for “Yes, we’re f*cking each other’s brains out, but we don’t want anyone to know about it.” But in our case, it wasn’t even true. We actually were just friends, or more like acquaintances. But the paparazzi loved her, and before I knew it, I’d been romantically linked with her. I quickly learned that explaining myself was pointless. People wanted to believe whatever suited them, and Jodi was no exception.

She nodded in a way meant to signal she understood what I was saying, but the gleam in her eyes told the opposite. She was as much in love with the fictitious romance between me and Alyssa as everyone else was. It didn’t help that Alyssa was doing nothing to dispute the erroneous belief.

Jodi asked the guys several questions about girls in general and about what they looked for in a possible mate.

“I don’t know,” Mason said. “I like being a free agent.”

Unable to hold back any longer, I removed my phone from my back pocket and checked the time while the guys laughed at Mason’s answer.

Would this interview ever end?





Chapter 4


Nolan


My question was answered several minutes later when Jodi thanked us and we were free to go.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” I told the guys. Once they were out of hearing range, I called the airline and booked the next available flight home.

All I had time for was a quick wash in the men’s bathroom before I had to leave for the airport. Fortunately, I had a spare T-shirt and antiperspirant in my bag, which I picked up on my way to the bathroom, so the person who sat next to me on the plane wouldn’t be suffering too much.

As I walked to the back entrance, my gym bag slung over my shoulder, I sent Brandon a text, letting him know when my flight to Northbridge would land. I was booked on the 11:55 flight, with a connection in Atlanta, but wouldn’t arrive until 10:30 tomorrow morning. But at least I could head straight to the hospital. By then it’d be visiting hours.

Now that Crazy Piper was performing onstage, their music vibrating through the walls and the floor, the area was empty of both crew and VIP fans who were allowed backstage. No one cared that I was leaving. My part of the evening was over.

A security guard at the end of the hallway walked toward me. He nodded at me, an acknowledgment to have a good evening. I nodded back.

As my cab sped toward the airport, Brandon responded to my text.

See you tomorrow. Will pick you up at airport.

Any news about Hailey?

Sorry. Nothing.

Jared sent me a text as the cab approached the airport, asking me where I’d bailed to. I ignored it. I didn’t feel like lying, but I also didn’t want to tell him the truth.

Before climbing out of the cab, I pulled on my sunglasses and my nondescript baseball cap, paid the driver, and hightailed it to checkin.

As much as I hated it, I was forced to check my guitar. I would’ve left it with Jared, along with my other gear, but figured I could at least work on some songs while I was away. With the record label’s deadline looming over me, I couldn’t treat this trip like a vacation. Every minute I wasn’t with Hailey would require me to work my ass off, creating new songs.

I hurried to my gate, stopping on the way to grab a soda, since I needed something with caffeine. I did my best to avoid checking out the tabloids while in line to pay, but the headline “Baby in Tyler Erickson and Alyssa Graham’s Future?” was enough for me to grab an issue and pay for it along with the drink.

On the tabloid’s cover, the magazine had drawn a circle around Alyssa’s stomach and scrawled the words “Baby Bump Alert!” If she was pregnant, and it was hard to tell from the photo if she was or not, I could guarantee the baby wasn’t mine. Not only had we never f*cked each other, I always used condoms.

At the gate, I avoided the waiting area, preferring to stay away from the crowd. I stood near the window and stared at the night sky. My mind raced back to the last time I’d been in my hometown. Hailey had driven me to the airport and told me to call her as soon as I got to L.A. I never did. And I never responded to the numerous texts she sent me over the next four months. I couldn’t, as much as it killed me. I was no longer the guy she had known since third grade. Besides, Hailey knew I was alive. She had ambushed Brandon, demanding to know what was going on—the same question he frequently asked me but which I’d never been able to answer.

The flight boarded a few minutes later. I waited until my section was called to commence boarding, then approached the line. If anyone recognized me, they kept it to themselves, and the woman checking boarding passes looked like she was probably the furthest thing from being a fan of the band.

I followed the other passengers onto the plane and located my seat near the back, next to the window. I was barely settled when a woman in her late fifties pulled her suitcase to my row and inspected the overhead compartment. Her gaze jerked to her luggage, then back to the compartment. Releasing a long, hard sigh, she bent down and picked up the bag.

“Do you need help with that?” I asked.

“Yes, please.” She smiled, and my heart pinched at how much her smile reminded me of my mom, as did her floral perfume.

As if the trip wouldn’t be painful enough.

I helped her with the luggage, then sat back down again and leafed through the tabloid until I found the article I’d been searching for. Inwardly I groaned. If I didn’t know better, I’d be convinced from reading this that Alyssa and I were very much in love. And yes, the photo of her kissing me, which wasn’t what it looked like, didn’t help my case either.