Page 97 of Unleashed By Eden

Hailee chucks a pillow at her feet. “Couldn’t James spring for a private beach in the Maldives?”

“I offered,” James calls from further back. He’s at the table with Dameon and Zac, cards fanned out in his hands, a bottle of scotch parked in the middle. “But she insisted on being with you degenerates.”

“Hey!” Hailee and Chloe chorus.

Chloe pushes herself up a bit as I drop onto the couch opposite. “You ready for Como?” she asks. Her messy bun still somehow looks chic. “Because I, for one, am ready for wine, pasta, sunshine, and absolutely zero responsibility.”

I could say I’m excited about the lake, the view, the fresh air that doesn’t smell like arenas and stale hotel carpet. And yeah, that’s nice. But it’s not the headline. I’m glad for this break because it means no sneaking around and ducking cameras or pretending I’m not tracking Carter every time he walks into a room.

It means alone time. Actual alone time with him.

“Yeah,” I say, letting out a deep breath. “Bring it on.”

The bus door hisses shut behind somebody. Carter turns the corner with his hands up, and the whole bus erupts—cheers, whistles, someone banging a hand on the table.

“About fucking time,” James calls.

“Glad the rock god could grace us with his presence,” Zac adds.

“I know, I know,” Carter drawls, flicking his hair back out of his eyes. “Sorry I’m late. Had shit to do.”

His jeans sit low on his hips, his Pink Floyd tee soft and worn. He zeros in on me, and the grin that takes over his face is so fucking bright, it could probably power the bus.

He stalks straight for me and fists the hair at the back of my head, tilting my face up. His lips press softly to mine. Completely at odds with the almost-feral way he crossed the floor and his tight grip on me.

“Hi,” he breathes against my mouth.

My stomach does a slow, traitorous flip.

“Hi,” I answer.

The whites in his eyes are clearer today.

“Oof, that was hot.” Cora fans herself with her hand. “If I could move, I’d be in James’s lap so fast right now.”

James chuckles but doesn’t deny it.

Carter releases his grip, then heads to the card table to get heckled properly.

We all settle in as the bus pulls out of Milan. Everyone’s already half comatose from the after-party and the late night. I bailed early to give Carter time with his mates who traveled halfway around the world to see him. I missed out on catching up with the girls properly. But I knew I would get time to hang out with them over the next couple of days. The PrimeTime+ crew and roadies have scattered across the city for their own downtime, everyone craving space.

The afternoon light slides warm through the tinted windows of the bus. It has velvet seats, polished floors, and more amenities than anyone needs for a ninety-minute drive. The hallway at the back is narrow, but it leads to a row of small sleeping pods with thick curtains and blankets that smell of hotel laundry.

I fish my camera from my bag, thumb finding the playback button. Milan backstage scrolls past in a series of fractured moments. The lighting had been total shit, harsh fluorescents and shadows that cut across faces at strange angles, but somehow the energy still seeps through the frames. Sweat shining on Carter’s shoulders, Kai mid-drumstick twirl, Theo yelling at someone off-frame, Chris looming in the corner with his permanent dissatisfied face on.

I lose myself in the rhythm of it, flicking.

“Can I see?” Hailee’s already leaning across the aisle before I answer.

“Ooh, me too,” Chloe adds.

We migrate to the U-shaped booth at the front. Hailee slides in first. Chloe squeezes in beside her. Cora performs an impressive wiggle-and-angling maneuver to get her belly behind the table. She exhales triumphantly once she’s in place.

“You good?” Chloe asks, eyes wide.

Cora gives a breathy laugh. “Barely.”

Chloe groans. “Please don’t make me deliver your baby on a motorway in Italy.”