Page 204 of Fame & Chaos

“Correct.”

I laugh again, quieter this time, while Indi snuggles back into my side.

Kenzi points at the television with her chocolate. “Torchwood? Excellent choice. Captain Jack is ridiculously hot. Shame he’s gay though. We could’ve had somethin’ special.”

That one gets a proper belly laugh out of me before pain shoots through my abdomen again. I groan and clutch my side while Indi instantly presses both hands there, trying to soothe it. As Kenzi continues rambling about fictional men and steals my chocolate, I realize something important.

Yeah… I think Kenzi and I are going to get along just fine.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Caleb

Five weeks have passed since the accident, and I’m moving around a hell of a lot better. I still get the occasional sharp twinge of pain if I twist too quickly or overdo things, but at least I can walk by myself, and Indi doesn’t have to do absolutely everything for me anymore.

She’s been incredible through all of this. Somehow, despite the pain, the exhaustion, and the frustration of recovery, we’ve grown even closer. Spending every day together has changed us. Sure, we’ve had visitors and gone out a few times, but for the most part, we’ve been inseparable, and I have no idea what I’m going to do once she goes back to work full-time.

The hospital has called her in a few times already, and every single time, she looked hesitant to leave me. I always made her go, reassuring her I’d be completely fine on my own. Even though one time, after she left, I got so dizzy walking back from the bathroom that I collapsed onto the floor and couldn’t get back up for nearly an hour.

I never told her, though. There was no point worrying her when she already had enough on her plate. Besides, it was my own stupid fault for pushing myself too hard and draining what little energy I had left.

But today?

Today feels different.

Today I’m excited.

For the last four weeks, music has been completely missing from my life, and I’ve hated every second of it. Last week, Rob told us we were finally starting work on the new album, The New Era. Indi drove me to Oxfordshire a couple of times for rehearsals, and while it felt amazing being back with the band, it also completely wiped me out. Singing takes more out of me than I expected right now.

I’m hoping the studio will be easier because I can work at my own pace without feeling like I’m dragging everyone else down.

Ella has been the most supportive through all of this. She’s more worried about my recovery than the album and even admitted she didn’t think we should record while I was still healing because she wanted me to be fully healthy first. But I know Staked needs to keep moving forward, and recording now makes the most sense. That way, when I’m properly recovered, we can focus completely on touring instead of disappearing into a studio halfway through.

Annie was immediately on board with recording, though I think part of her is excited to be back in a studio environment again. I know she loves and cares deeply about me, but sometimes Annie gets so caught up in her own emotions that she forgets to look at the bigger picture.

Still, I’d rather do this now than stop mid-tour later.

Which is why Indi and I are currently pulling into Abbey Road Studios so we can record in the same building where Dad and Uncle Colt recorded their first album. We technically already have a demo album out, but it wasn’t done professionally in a studio, so even though this is our second album, it feels like our real first one.

“Excited?” Indi asks as she parks the car.

“Nervous as hell,” I admit honestly. “What if my voice sounds like shit now after all this?”

She looks over at me like I’m ridiculous. “Babe, having your spleen removed doesn’t affect your vocal cords.”

I huff quietly but stay sitting there while she unbuckles her seatbelt and opens the door. A second later, she pauses and looks back at me. “You coming?”

Suddenly, every insecurity I’ve shoved down over the last four weeks comes crashing right back up to the surface.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” she asks gently.

“What if this flops?”

Her eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“What if the album flops? What if nobody likes it? What if nobody likes us?”

Indi stares at me for a second before slowly tilting her head and exhaling through her nose. “Seriously?” she asks. “Caleb McCormack-Slade? The world’s cockiest, most arrogant, self-assured arsehole is suddenly worried people won’t like his music?” I slump slightly against the seat and sigh. “Caleb, there’s a reason you’re that cocky,” she says firmly. “It’s because you’re fucking talented. No… scratch that. You’re incredible at what you do.”