Page 87 of Unleashed By Eden

And I’m left here, wet and half naked, puzzled by this man and his need to eat me out before his show, while my brother was on the other side of the plywood.

I fix myself as best I can, tugging clothes back into place, retying my hair. I peek out, then bolt the second the hall clears, praying no one notices me slipping out of a supply room that I definitely didn’t need to be in.

Megan’s already mid-briefing when I join them. I nod at the right moments, but none of it enters my brain. My stomach is tight, dread lodged high in my throat.

Liam almost caught us.

We have to tell him. I know that. But, knowing doesn’t make it any easier. The last thing I want is to be the wedge between them.

When Megan finally wraps up, I don’t wait. I head straight for Carter’s dressing room.

I knock.

The door swings open immediately.

Liam stands there in a button-down and slacks, arms wide, smiling.

We’re not huggers, never have been. But it’s been five cities since Paris, and tour time moves fast when you’re working nonstop and fucking around with Carter in the cracks between it. A lot’s shifted since Sydney. Liam’s a dad now. And Carter . . . Carter has permanently inked himself on my heart. We’re not the same people we were at the start. When Liam opens his arms, I don’t overthink it—I step into him and hug him hard.

“How are Anne and Indigo?” I ask into his shoulder.

“Couldn’t be better,” he says softly.

Over his shoulder, I catch Carter on the couch, cigarette between his fingers, watching me with a lazy tilt of his lips.

Dirty bastard.

I doubt he even bothered wiping his face.

We pull apart.

“So,” Liam begins, eyeing me. “He treating you alright? I can still kick his ass.”

Carter grunts. “You’ve never been able to kick my ass.”

“He’s been . . . treating me well,” I reply.

God. That was tragic.

Carter’s gaze sharpens a fraction.

Message received: Stay cool, bitch.

I’m fucking trying to.

I hate being in this situation. It’s up to Carter to tell him, and he better do that fast before Liam finds out another way.

A knock cuts in. “Carter, on in five.”

“Duty calls.” He stubs out his cigarette and stands.

“Same,” I say, glancing up at Liam. “I need to move.”

“Do your thing.” He waves me off. “I’ll catch you after.”

We spill out of the dressing room. Carter jogs to catch up with the guys, Liam hangs back with Chris, and I head for the front row, camera up, slipping into position.

The lights go down.