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He was everything and more that I wanted, but unlike other situations, he wasn’t forgettable. Wasn’t one night to wash out the bad taste. He was the one night that I compared every other night to.

Two years ago, what I expected was a night of rowdy, hot sex. Something both of us were craving by the time we got our hands on each other. What I didn’t expect was a connection so consuming, so unique, so safe that within moments of opening my soul to his, it felt like there would never be room for anyone else.

Which is exactly why I won’t let myself believe this can happen.

The cabin lights dim for take-off, everyone in their designated seats, their seatbelts fastened, and thankfully minding their own business.

The crackle of the radio sounds, and my chest clenches, knowing his voice is to follow. As if he’s speaking directly to me, Jett’s intoxicating voice grumbles through the speaker.

“Hello all, I hope everyone had a great couple of days in Boston. This evening, we’re looking at about two hours and forty-five minutes of travel time. As always, I’ll do my best to handle you with care and make our time in the air as pleasurable as I can. If there’s anything my crew or myself can do for you, please don’t hesitate to let us know.”

I wiggle in my chair, likely looking suspicious to anyone who can see.

Jett’s words hold no meaning to the rest of the plane, but they mean everything to the soft spot inside me.

His words feel like a promise meant for me. Like he’s pledging to handle me with care after acknowledging the pleasure he just brought.

But no matter how elevated this man makes me feel when he’s touching my body, it doesn’t matter. He’s still a man, and why would he change for me?

By the time we land, brisk winds sweep through the night sky, and everyone remains noiseless on our commute to the hotel.

The October weather makes it even harder to travel to and from in the cold.

While silence is upon us, the overall mood feels lighter. Indiana may not be home for most of us, but the comfort and anticipation of being so close to this last hurdle seems like it’s shifted the energy.

“I’m so excited to finally be closer to home,” Taylor cheers, grunting as she pulls her large suitcase onto one of the full-size beds in our hotel room.

When we’re alone, she talks to me—not much, but she talks.

I don’t know how to bring up the night that ruined our friendship. It’s too painful and vulnerable, but every moment I go without mentioning it, I feel her drift further away than she already has. And basically living together on tour is only amplifying that feeling.

“Gosh, I know. I can’t believe this is our last stop before we’re back in Nashville.”

Frantic flutters erupt at the top of my chest as I think about the timeline of our trip.

We’ll be here in Indy for a full week. Today’s Sunday, so we have tomorrow to practice, shows on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, then we’re off to Nashville Saturday evening.

I’ve only got about three weeks to get this dance finished.

“Do you have anyone coming to our shows at home?”

Taylor’s back is facing mine, and I’m grateful for the barrier so I don’t have to hide the unease I’m sporting.

“Actually, yeah, my parents might come, and my best friend, Sienna, is coming to our final show.”

For the first time, I think about someone else coming. What it would feel like on stage knowing he’s out there. Would it feel just like it does when he watches me when we’re alone?

“Not your boyfriend?”

I’m caught off guard by the snark. I should’ve expected this from her, with how torn she is between what little relationship we have left, and her newly blossomed one with the other dancers.

“Maybe. I don’t think he’s decided yet.”

My armor rises, the comfort I feel in the privacy of our room feeling punctured.

“Just seems suspicious. Wouldn’t he want to support his girlfriend?”

“Who said he didn’t want to?”