I sighed, mopping at my nose with a tissue and scanning the rest of the timeline for the day. After the concert tonight we were making the three-hour drive from Memphis to Nashville for a festival tomorrow. So we’d check into the hotel at 2:00 a.m. Sound check at 8:00. Festival at noon.

Another crappy schedule.

Zane seemed to sense my weariness and signed the room service slip for me.

“You okay?” she asked, after she let the guy out.

Jason was in the shower. I could hear the water running.

I rubbed my forehead. “Yeah. I’m just so tired.”

“Go get your nails done or something. Skip this shit.”

I looked down at my hands and the chipped polish on my fingers.

It was funny, because when I was grieving Brandon, I didn’t take care of myself and it was exactly like that now too.

“Want me to get you somethin’?” she asked.

Zane was great. She was like our life raft out here. We were so isolated. Jason couldn’t even get off the bus half the time or he’d end up signing autographs. He couldn’t even go into a CVS and pick his own deodorant. Zane did everything for us. Our laundry, our errands.

“I’m fine,” I said, coughing into my elbow. “Thank you, though.”

“You just gotta get used to the road,” she said, leaning down to grab the bag of dirty clothes where we always put it by the door. “You’ll be a pro by the next one.”

I scoffed. “At least I’ll get a few years to recover from the one I’m on.”

She flung the bag over her shoulder. “You wish.”

“Ha. He’s done after Brisbane,” I said, wiping my nose.

She looked confused. “He gets a three-month break after this one and then he’s back on the road. He didn’t tell you?”

I blinked at her. “No…”

“They’ve been sending around the paperwork to the crew to extend their contracts. I just got mine yesterday. Maybe he didn’t know yet.”

My stomach dropped. “Are you sure?”

“Very sure. Looks like he’s pretty hot in Tokyo. I hear they’re sending him there and then Brazil, Chile, Panama, Argentina. It’s good. Means he’s big.”

I completely deflated. Another tour? Three months off and then more of this? “Oh my God…” I breathed.

Zane patted her leg. “Let’s go, Tuck. Walk time.”

Tucker jumped off the bed and let Zane leash him. “I’ma bring up some DayQuil. Text me if you want anything else.”

I let them out and put my back to the door after it shut.

The disappointment crashed into me like a whole new wave of exhaustion and my eyelid lurched into spasms.

I didn’t know what I’d expected. I mean, they’d have him doing something when this tour was over. But I’d just thought it would be writing and recording his next album, home, with me, in a house somewhere. It had never even occurred to me that they’d have him do this all over again, right after the last one.

So was this what it was going to look like? On tour, off tour, and then back again? Forever?

The water shut off in the shower.

I took another second to compose myself and went back into the steamy bathroom.

“Everything all right?” he asked, looking at me as he tied a towel around his waist.

“Did you know they’re scheduling another tour for you after this one?” I asked.

He froze. “No. Where’d you hear that?”

“Zane said they’re renewing the contracts for your crew. That you’re getting three months off and then you’re going back.”

I saw the tic in his jaw. “What time is it?”

“Too early to call Ernie,” I said, already knowing what he was thinking.

Jason picked up his phone from the sink, dialed, and hit Send anyway.

He stalked out into the bedroom and I followed him. “Jason, it’s like four a.m. there.”

He turned and put the call on speaker and held it between us.

Ernie picked up on the second ring. “Good morning, kids. Calling me from Graceland?” he said groggily.

“Are they putting me on another tour?” Jason asked.

There was a pregnant pause.

“Eh, fuck,” Ernie mumbled. “Give me a second.”

Ernie muttered something muffled to his wife. A few moments passed and then a door shut in the background. “Who told you?”

“Is it true?” Jason asked.

“Look at it this way, you have job security.”

I shut my eyes for a long second and when I opened them, Jason’s face looked like an apology.

“Technically it’s not a new one,” Ernie said. “It’s the same tour, extended. It’s a good thing. Means you’re in demand. I was fighting for another soundtrack for you to keep you in LA, Patty Jenkins fell through, though, and the deal got fucked. You’re not writing and you’re not recording. They’re not gonna let you sit pretty and do nothing, my friend. And you’re hot in Tokyo right now.”

Jason and I looked at each other, having a silent exchange. He dragged a hand down his beard. “Ernie, I can’t do another one of these. This schedule’s fucking ridiculous. I haven’t been able to rest my voice in months, we’re exhausted.”