I traced a feather soft finger across his shoulder blade. "No one would blame you if you took some time off to heal."

He shook his head. "I'd blame me. I'm not gonna let down my fans, or my band, or you."

"Jax, you wouldn't let me down—"

"This is going to be the best show of the whole freakin' tour," he continued. "I'm not going to cancel." He gave me a piercing, haunted look. "I need this."

His warm, calloused hand gripped mine. I could sense wound up energy coiled deep inside his body, and somehow I knew this was about more than just being a dedicated musician. I placed my hand over his heart and gazed into his intense, dark eyes. He needed to play tonight—and let out all the emotion he'd been holding back.

I took a long slow breath. I was still worried about him, but Jax knew better than I what was good for him. If this was what he needed to heal, then I wasn't going to stand in the way.

"Alright, go get your rock on." I kissed him softly on the lips. "I know you'll be amazing."

He stroked my hair and smiled contentedly. "Pepper, you're one in a million."

We stayed cuddled up as he picked up the remote and restarted the footage. I kept my hand in his, enjoying the closeness of his touch.

It seemed odd, that after all that had happened to us the other night, we could just go back to our lives like we'd never been through hell. So far, it was all working out better than I could've expected—the Reapers were off our tail, no cops had hassled us, and the band hadn't even been upset by what happened, thanks to Jax's cover story.

Jax furrowed his brows in concentration as a new camera angle popped up on the TV, and a reddish scrape along his jaw shone in contrast with his olive skin. He'd been hurt so much in the past, but now everything seemed to be working in his favor, thank god. He deserved it more than anyone.

After the nightmare of last night, it seemed like everything was going to be all right after all.

Chapter Four

THE SHOW MUST GO ON

Before I knew it, I was standing in the same sidestage spot I had watched from just the day before, waiting with trepidation as the venue finished filling up with fans hoping for the show of their lives. The energy in the building seemed to have its own pulse. Everyone wanted The Hitchcocks to come on stage and begin the show. Everyone wanted Jax. The Roman was rocking, and the show hadn't even started yet.

While the crowd was humming with anticipation, I was simply nervous. My mind buzzed with exhaustion as I tried to fight back my worries. Jax said he would be fine—and there was nothing left for me to do but just trust that he was right. Still, I repeated a mantra that contained every hope I'd had since I had gone to sleep the previous night.

It's going to be okay. Jax is going to be okay.

Finally, the lights went dim. The crowd erupted as The Hitchcocks filtered onto the stage, Jax last of all. As soon as the crowd caught sight of him, they somehow screamed even louder. Jax was right. These people would have been very disappointed if he had cancelled. I just had to hope he would make it through the performance in one piece.

He stalked forward to the edge of the stage, took the microphone off its stand, and froze, standing there in leather pants and a black t-shirt that stretched around his shoulders and chest like a statue of rock god perfection. The stage lights came on. Chewie hit his sticks together with four rhythmic clacks, Jax sprang into motion, and the band began to play.

Like a taut bow finally released, the show was on, and the crowd was in a frenzy as they sang along with their hero. Several women toward the front, dressed in matching Hitchcocks t-shirts, screamed in unison before flashing the stage. Kev gave a sly grin to Chewie, who nodded back. Sky rolled her eyes, but Jax seemed not to notice.

Even through my exhaustion, I could see that for this set, he was in it. There was nothing else. It was obvious why he needed this. Between the music and the energy of the crowd, there was no time to think or worry. About his dad. About his demons. About anything.

As the band settled into the show, I watched as Jax moved around the stage as energetically as ever, seeming totally unaffected by his injuries. He was in full Jax Effect mode, and every woman in the building—myself included—was falling under his spell. With every song, my worries about the safety of Jax performing drained away more and more.

This was his element—and as I watched, I gave myself over to the energy of the band, unable to tear my eyes away from Jax. Somehow, the past twenty-four hours had changed something between us. Before, I had been trying to see past his stage persona to find the real him. But after sharing with me his true, traumatic past, I knew what fueled his passion for music, and what I was seeing on stage wasn't just an act for the crowd. It was about as close as Jax ever got to showing his true self to the world.

At least, as close as he got with anyone but me. We had something different.

The energy in The Roman continued to build as the band cruised through the first half of their set before coming to the set's first ballad. Sweating profusely from the performance, Jax took a drink of water and pulled out a stool to sit on as he typically did for this part of the show. While I couldn't see his face from my vantage, I could see the suddenly serious expressions on the faces of his fans, and it felt like everyone's mood had shifted. Now that they had rocked, it was time to get raw.

Jax looked around at the audience as he took a seat on the stool, microphone in hand. He seemed to be even more emotionally invested in this song than normal. The way he slouched down after he sat, collecting himself, sent a stab of worry through me. Were his injuries beginning to affect him?

But then the band began to play and he sprang back into life, crooning through the first verse of the song. He came to the chorus.

And when you pick at scabs before

they've healed you open up the door

to feel like bleeding might be best today.

You bare your secrets . . .

alone.

I had heard him sing this song many times, but this was the first time I had heard it and knew the secrets he was hiding, the scabs he was hoping would heal. Before last night, he had only ever opened up the door to those secrets to write them into his songs, but he wasn't alone anymore. He had me, and I was going to help him heal once and for all no matter what it took.

The intensity of my feelings as I watched him, glistening under the stage lights in front of adoring fans, scared the hell out of me. We had only known each other a few weeks, and yet the connection I felt with him was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

Was I losing my mind? Last night I had thrown a molotov cocktail and burned up a bunch of bikes belonging to a motorcycle gang. People were supposed to settle down as they aged, but with him I was feeling more out of control than I had ever been.

Still, I was crazy about him, and I couldn't shake that feeling. Even if life felt like it was spinning out of control, Jax made me feel more alive than I ever had before.

I shifted back and forth on my feet to the beat of the song as it built towards its climax. Even if the way I felt about Jax scared me, being with him was something I wanted. I knew he had demons he hadn't faced, and I knew it would be hard, but that didn't matter to me.

What mattered was the man who had trusted me enough to bring me to the heart of his trauma. After that, I knew he believed in me. And I believed in him.