The Reckless Collision

Ray.

~~~

The hum of the bus wheels beneath my feet was a constant, rhythmic pulse that seemed to match the swirl of thoughts racing through my head. It felt good to be back on the road, almost too good.

The smell of worn leather and faded fabric in the air, the low murmur of voices coming from the back of the bus, the familiarity of it all—it was like I had stepped back into a place where I could breathe again. This was where I thrived, where I felt alive. On the road, moving from one city to the next, chasing the rush of the next show, the next crowd.

But it wasn't the same as before.

I glanced over at Sam. She was sitting a few feet away, her forehead pressed against the cool, fogged-up window, watching the scenery blur by. She looked calm, peaceful even, but I knew her better than that.

I could see the tension in her shoulders and the way her fingers fidgeted nervously with the hem of her sweater. Her face was pale, and the exhaustion I'd seen ever since Rose's funeral still clung to her like a shadow. It was hard to ignore. She had offered to come with me, but I couldn't shake the feeling that she was pushing herself, trying to dive back into the chaos before she was ready.

I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest. I tried to push the worry away, but it was like a gnawing presence that wouldn't let go. We hadn't had time to breathe since everything happened.

The whirlwind of grief, the quick decision to hit the road, it was all happening so fast. Sam had said she wanted to come with me, but now, sitting here, I couldn't help but feel like maybe it was too soon for her. Was she really ready for this? I wanted her with me, but I also wanted her to take the time she needed.

But, damn, we both needed this. I needed this—needed her. The last few days had been a blur of emotions, and as much as I hated to admit it, I'd been itching to get back on the road.

To focus on something I understood—music, the band, performing. It was easier to drown in the noise of the tour than sit in the silence of loss. Even so, Sam was never far from my thoughts. Being here with her was different this time, and I couldn't help but feel the weight of that difference.

"Hey, Ray!" Logan's voice from the back of the bus snapped me out of my head. He was leaning in the doorway, a grin spread across his face and a beer in hand. "You ready for tomorrow's show? Venue's supposed to be packed!"

I smirked, giving him a nod. "Yeah, man, I'm ready."

I stood up and moved toward the small table where Logan and Andrew had already sprawled out, casually flipping through setlists and tour schedules. The energy in the room was light, carefree, but my mind kept drifting back to Sam. She was still staring out the window, her reflection ghostly against the glass. My heart twisted at the sight of her.

As I took a seat, Elena shot me a quick smile from her corner, her eyes darting between the guys. She was a recent addition, organized and efficient, but she was more of an observer than an active participant. I could tell she was still adjusting, but I hoped she'd find her place in the mix soon enough. The band felt like family to me—rough around the edges, but solid—and I wanted her to feel that sense of belonging too.

"Ray?" Elena's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I blinked and realized I'd zoned out, not fully hearing the conversation.

"Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about tomorrow," I muttered, trying to shake off the unease growing in my chest. "The schedule looks good."

Later I excused myself from the group and walked back toward Sam. I slid into the seat beside her, gently touching her hand. She startled slightly, turning to meet my eyes, and offering me a soft smile. But I could still see the tiredness in her gaze. It was always there, lurking.