The Reckless Collision

Chapter Seventy-Four

"This is amazing!" he said, setting me down but keeping his hands on my arms, his grin almost blinding. "You did it, love. You're officially an author." He leaned in capturing my lips with his in a long tentative kiss.

I smiled, the warmth of his pride settling into me like sunlight. "I guess I am." He pulled me into another hug, holding me tightly, and for a moment, I let myself forget everything else. It was just us, just this moment.

But when he pulled back and went to grab a half-empty bottle of wine from the mini-fridge to toast, my mind wandered again.

As I watched him pour the wine into two mismatched mugs, a heaviness crept into my chest. I thought about the long road ahead—the revisions, the marketing, the inevitable pressure of being "Frances Farmer" in the literary world. I thought about Ray, how his life was only getting more chaotic, and how mine might soon follow.

I took the mug he offered me and clinked it against his with a soft "cheers," but I knew he could sense something was off.

"You okay?" he asked gently, sitting down beside me.

I nodded, sipping my wine. "I'm just... processing. This is a big step, and it feels... overwhelming."

Ray reached out, taking my free hand in his. His thumb brushed over my knuckles in a soothing gesture. "You've got this, love. Whatever it takes, you'll handle it. And I'll be right here, cheering you on, just like you cheering on me with each show."

I smiled at him, grateful for his support, but the knot in my chest didn't loosen. Instead, it tightened as I thought about everything we were both juggling. Ray had his band, the growing fame, the endless demands. I had my writing, my grief, and now this new chapter in my career.

What if it all became too much?

I glanced at him, his face lit up with pride and joy for me, and I felt a twitch of guilt for even thinking about it. But deep down, I couldn't shake the fear that this was just the beginning of the distance growing between us.

For now, I shoved the thought aside, leaning into his warmth as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

The bus rumbled on through the night, carrying us toward another city, another stage, another crowd. But as I rested my head against Ray's shoulder, I couldn't help but feel the weight of what was ahead for both of us.

~~~

Ray.

~~~

The hotel room in Barcelona was luxurious in a way that felt almost absurd—polished hardwood floors, pristine white sheets on a king-sized bed, and a view of the city lights sprawling below us like a sea of fireflies. But no amount of luxury could shake the tension that gripped me, a knot in my chest that tightened with every passing day.

I stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the shimmering city. The skyline was alive with the kind of energy I should have thrived on, but tonight, it felt distant. I could hear the muffled sounds of the band in the adjoining rooms—Andrew's laugh, Elena's guitar riff, Logan's sharp voice cutting through it all. Even when we weren't on stage, the noise never stopped.

Behind me, Sam sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling through her phone. The soft light from the bedside lamp cast a golden glow over her features, and for a moment, I just watched her. She'd pulled her hair up in a messy bun, her face bare of makeup, wearing one of my oversized t-shirts. She looked so effortlessly beautiful, so calm, and I envied her for it.

But even as she smiled faintly at something on her screen, I could see the weariness in her posture—the way her shoulders slumped slightly, the dark shadows under her eyes. It wasn't just me carrying the weight of this life.