Page 29 of These Wicked Hearts

But the echo of your love never obeys

It’s just pain

I’m running in circles, screaming your name

Now I’m fighting something living under my skin

In the silence you left me, I might just cave

I’m mesmerized by it. Knox is singing next to me while the crowd around us sings along. Gage’s voice is soft and haunting. The lyrics aching but beautiful. Gage sings to the crowd, but then he looks right at me.

This time his eyes linger. Just for a second.

His voice drops when he takes the mic off the stand, bringing it to his lips. Softer, rougher, a song that fills you with meaning. My chest tightens. There’s something here. Sadness. Or maybe that’s just how I feel after he walked out of my apartment the other night.

He puts the mic back, and his fingers curl around the stand before he forces himself to move again, breaking my trance. The rest of the show blurs into pieces. I’m aware of him, the talent and production, the way each masked member gets their moment to shine. The playfulness at certain times with his bandmates. Whenever Gage stands beside one of them to sing while they play together the crowd loses it.

Gage never loses momentum. If anything, he gets wilder. Like the longer he’s up there the less human he becomes. Every so often his eyes find me. Just for a second, but it’s enough to make me believe that night has haunted him too.

Does he feel and see me as clearly as I’ve seen him? Has he touched himself to the things we did?

Does he want one more night?

By the time the final song hits, my throat is dry, my heart is a mess, and my brain has run loops trying to slow down and think logically. The last note crashes over the arena. The lights cut to black so fast it feels like they blinked out of existence.

Silence rolls over us all.

Then an explosion of screams. Just like that, they’re gone.

Knox grabs my shoulders, shaking me hard. “Told you!” he yells, breathless. “Best fucking show of your life, right?!”

I stare back at the empty stage where Gage just stood. My lips part, but I can’t say a word because yeah, Knox is right. It was the best show I’ve ever been to. The show was amazing, but that’s not what’s sitting heavy on my chest.

It’s the way Gage kept sneaking looks at me as if he was helpless to do anything else. A dangerous realization hits me, one with more temptation than any drink has given me. I’m not sure how Gage is feeling right now, but I know one thing.

Whatever this is between us isn’t over.

SEVEN

Gage

It takes a while for adrenaline to fade after a show, but right now I’m freaking the fuck out and it’s only adding to the pulse beating in my throat. It’s like the blood in my veins has turned electric, buzzing under my skin. This isn’t the usual post-show high; this is an adrenaline crash that’s leaving me shaky and wired.

This feels dangerous.

What if he tells?

The thought lands heavy, sinking into my gut. What if he runs straight to some tabloid? What if he sells it off for a quick payout? My identity and body. All of it reduced to headlines. Then what?

Should I tell Chen? Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe I’m spiraling over nothing.

I don’t know him, that’s the problem. What if he’s been a fan this whole time? What if he’s always known? What if he followed me onto that roof because he knew and wanted access to me. I know it’s not logical. No one outside my friends and our management has seen my snake tattoo in my personal life.

A sharp breath punches out of me. Try to relax. Just take a breath. I’m getting ahead of myself. I drag my hand down my face, smearing sweat into my makeup that won’t budge no matter how hot I get on stage. I have my makeup artist to thank for that.

My tattoos are never an issue, ever. The ones on my arms stay covered during the show, but that snake . . . no one is supposed to see it outside of the show. I watched the way his eyes dragged over it, and while fear grips me, I can’t deny the flare of heat at the memory of his lips against it.

Get it together.