“Bros before hos,” Steve joked, throwing up a pair of devil horns.

Logan scowled. “Toni is not a ho. She’s the love of my life. And I’m not going to lose her over some stupid tabloid bullshit.” He grabbed Reagan by both arms and shook her, hoping to drive his point home. “This is the price you pay for fame, Reagan. Your private life is no longer private. The sooner you get used to it, the better off you’ll be. I know you’re pissed off, but let it go and move on. Your life isn’t over because the world now knows you fuck two gay guys. They might think you’re a slut, but so what? There are far worse things you could be.”

Reagan’s jaw dropped. Logan released her and scarcely felt her half-assed slap to his face. He turned back to his bunk. “Where’s my goddamned phone!” he yelled, ripping the bedding from his mattress and shaking it before throwing it on the floor. The phone wasn’t under his pillow or beneath the mattress. He dug through the drawer under his bed, thinking maybe it had fallen in with his clean clothes.

“Dude, you need to calm down,” Steve said.

“I’m not going to fucking calm down. What I need is my goddamned phone.”

“Maybe it’s in the back,” Max suggested, grabbing Logan’s bedding off the floor and shoving it back into the empty bunk.

And then Logan heard Toni’s ringtone—Kelis’s “Milkshake”—playing from the lounge. She was calling him! He sprinted down the corridor, expecting to see his phone resting on the coffee table, but it wasn’t there. And neither were Toni’s familiar belongings. He didn’t have time to dwell on the emptiness that barren sight opened in his chest; he had a phone to find. He followed the sound toward the far end of the sectional, eyes closed and head cocked to one side as he listened for direction. The phone stopped ringing, and his heart sank. No matter. It was somewhere in this room. Sofa cushions and pillows went flying in all directions. He shoved his hand into the crack between the sectional’s back and seat, finding a few coins, a cheese curl older than Keith Richards, and a few things he didn’t want to identify, but no phone. He dropped onto his belly and peered under the sectional, hoping it hadn’t slipped too far under there. He’d never get it out.

Face pressed to the carpet, he yelled, “Someone call my phone.”

“Should we put him out of his misery?” Steve asked from the doorway.

“I don’t know,” Max said. “It’s pretty funny, if you ask me.”

“What’s funny?” Logan sat up and pushed his wayward curls out of his face to glare at his comedian bandmates who had congregated in the doorway. All except Reagan. After what he’d said to her, Reagan would likely never speak to him again, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“What’s funny? How about the way you’re tearing apart the couch and flopping around on the floor in a panic when your phone is sitting peacefully in the charger.” Dare pointed at the charger on the end table.

“Who the hell put it in there?” But he knew. Toni had been looking out for him. Anticipating his needs and doing those little things that showed she cared without prompting or asking for anything in return. He grabbed the edge of the bare sectional in one hand and the coffee table in the other and hauled himself to his feet.

“I do think he’s actually in love with her,” Steve said, scratching his jaw.

“Why else would he make such an ass out of himself?” Max said.

Dare tugged the two men out of the doorway and started to slide the door shut. Just before it closed, he poked his head into the room and said, “Don’t fuck this up. Sometimes you don’t get a second chance at happiness.”

Logan waved him away as he returned Toni’s missed call. The door banged shut just as he lifted the phone to his ear.

“Logan?”

She answered on the first ring. Her voice wavered on his name, and she sucked in a deep shaky breath. He could tell she was crying, and the thought of her turmoil jabbed him in the gut.

“Please, you have to believe me,” she sobbed. “I didn’t—”

“Shh, sweetheart, I know you wouldn’t sell our secrets to the tabloids.”

“You know?”

“Yeah, so don’t cry. We’ll get this all straightened out.”

“If you knew, then why wouldn’t you even look at me after the show? I thought you hated me.”

“I could never hate you.” It was true. Even if she had been a conniving bitch and sold their stories to the tabloids, he would have eventually forgiven her. But thank God he didn’t have to. “At that particular moment, I was convinced you’d betrayed us, but after a few minutes of thought, I realized you wouldn’t do that to the band.”

“Fuck the band. I would never do that to you.”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “So you did sell them out?” What was she saying?

“Of course not. But if they hated me, I would eventually move on. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I ever hurt you.”

“I’m not sure Reagan will forgive you, but if the guys aren’t already over it, they will be in a few days. This isn’t the first time our shit has been smeared all over the tabloid toilet. We’re used to it.”

Toni snorted on a laugh, and Logan’s throat tightened. Who would have ever thought that such a tiny sound would bring him overwhelming joy. Toni was no longer crying, no longer heartbroken. His world could start turning again.

“Do you want us to turn the bus around and come get you?” he asked.

“He better not be making up with her!” Reagan yelled from the corridor.

“Will you calm down?” Max’s muffled voice advised.

“No, I will not calm down! Get your fucking hands off of me.”

There was a repetitive slapping sound. “Ow!” Max complained. “Some help here, guys?”

“Reagan is still pretty upset,” Logan said to Toni. Understatement of the century. “But maybe she’d be willing to ride with Sinners.”

“No, go on without me,” Toni said. “I have enough to get started on the book, and you know Reagan struggles to be a part of the band. You should support her. I’ll keep my distance until she calms down.”

Why would Reagan be struggling with being a part of the band? They’d accepted her from day one. And there was no way he was supporting Reagan when she blamed Toni for her problems. Toni was innocent. “How can I support her? She’s accusing the wrong person.”

“I don’t mean that,” Toni said. “Support her through the impending media shitstorm. You know it’s just started. They won’t leave her alone now that the story is out. All the other stuff they stole from my journal is old news, but Reagan’s relationship is a current event. It’s going to get ugly, Logan.”

Logan scratched his head and scowled. He hadn’t thought about that. Of course Toni, who always empathized with everyone, would think to worry about Reagan’s future struggles.

“So you don’t want to be with me for the rest of the tour?” he asked. He needed to see her. He was glad they were talking like rational adults—who’d have guessed he’d ever be so mature about such a situation—but he needed to see her, to touch her. He needed the physical reassurance that she loved him. To see it in her eyes. Feel it in her touch. Words weren’t enough.

“Of course I want to be with you. But even more than that, I want to confront the bitch who did this and out her for the thieving, back-stabbing, heartless cunt that she is.”

Logan’s jaw dropped. He’d never heard Toni say negative things about anyone before. Apparently her hurt had turned to anger.

“So you know who did it?” Logan asked.

“I’m pretty sure I do. Remember Susan, the editor who works for my mom’s company? The entire meeting in Denver, all she could focus on was the dirt she wanted on you guys. I never saw my journal again after that day. I think she took it when I was with Birdie in the bathroom.”

“You’re going home,” he said, a strange tug pulling at his chest. He rubbed at the spot. He suddenly realized that they hadn’t been apart for more than a few hours since they’d met. If this was what it felt like to be without her—this ache, this yearning—he wasn’t going to last a day on his own.