Page 237 of Silver Sweet

Being apart is excruciating.

The morning after the assault, Tom made good on his threat and called our label. Our opener was not only thrown off the tour, but they were promptly dropped by Riot. I was fucking floored.

Birdie called me last week and asked, “Did Tom eradicate those losers from existence?” I was confused until he informed me, “Man, their socials aregone.”

When I mentioned it to Tom, he looked baffled until he called his brother. Eliot had apparently tracked down every member of Evening Glory and gotten them to delete their accounts. I don’t know what threats he used, but they were successful.

And that was just Eliot.

I have no clue what Charlie and Beckett could do to me if they feel like I’m hurting Tom. But last thing I plan to do is avoid his oldest brother.

So I text Charlie.

PHOENIX

Awake now. What’s up?

While I wait for a response, I pay off one of my credit cards. We’ve made a lot of money off merch, more than I ever imagined I’d see. It feels good to be free of some debt. I smile over at Tom as he lets out an audible breath.

His arm curls around his pillow, and his bicep tattoo—the wordtroublemaker—stands out. Some of his first ink, he told me. Now he has about five more tattoos since I met him. All small. LikeKiller Ultravioleton his thigh.

I’m about to work on lyrics for our second album when my phone vibrates.

Not with a text from Charlie.

JEREMY

Congratulations, boys. You did this.

Our manager sent us a link to theBillboard Hot 100, and my jaw drops when I click it.

“Tom,” I breathe out.

He doesn’t stir.

“Tom.” I jostle his arm. Jesus Christ, he could sleep through an earthquake. I smack his ass hard. He groans and kicks his legs at me, which are tangled in the bedding and do nothing but wrestle the sheets.

I climb on top of him, my knees on either side of his waist and my phone near his face. “Nepo baby, open your fucking eyes.”

He groans, hugging his pillow tighter. “I know I’m fuckable at all hours, but it’s too early.”

“Man, I’m not trying tofuck you,” I snap.

Tom makes an offended noise. “Okay, I am the greatest morning—” He cuts himself off, his eyes widening on my phone screen. “Is that—?” He pries my cell out of my hand, and I roll off him while he shoots upright. “Phoenix.”

I smile wider and wider. “Our song charted. ‘Nuclear Winter’ charted.”

“Ninety-four,” Tom springs to his feet. “Ninety-four. Holy shit.Ninety-four.”

I soak in his overcome reaction, amplifying mine by a million. It feels like the sun just exploded in my chest, and I laugh and jump on the bed with him before tackling himback into the mattress. His grin is infectious. We’re kissing and hugging and taking screenshots of our song sitting at #94.

“Best number in the world,” Tom says. “Move over number one.”

Funny thing is, he makes ninety-four feel like first place. I’m on top of him again when I tease, “You plan to tattoo ninety-four on your ass?”

“My leg,Phoenix.” He shoves my phone in my chest, more playfully. His smirk is out in full force. “And you’re getting a matching one with me this time.”

I smile back. “Deal.”