Rafe's hands were cool as they pulled my damp hair off my face a little while later and I felt the swaying of the bus as it left the parking area. I turned, knowing his touch, not afraid as I had been moments earlier that it was Dylan.

            "Mack said you got sick." He leaned over the bed as somebody went by him, and said good night. I didn't recognize the voice.

            "Yeah."

            "Stomach stuff? Food not agree with you?" He was gently smoothing my hair. "You're in the wrong bunk, baby. All our stuff is here. You have no room."

            "I don't want to get you sick." I mumbled, not turning and not looking at him.

            "That's thoughtful of you." He sighed. "Are you sure that's all?"

            "Yes." I lied. I had the funniest feeling he would sense I was lying and I half wanted him to call me on it.

            "I guess I should just let you sleep." He sounded very disappointed.

            "Yes."

            "Are you going to our yoga workout in the morning? We'll go running too."

            "I want to. Does everyone go?"

            "Usually. Unless, of course, you're not feeling well." He was still smoothing my hair.

            I wanted to tell him. I'd never kept this kind of secret from anybody. In fact I wasn't a particularly good secret keeper. My training led me to full disclosure at all times. But I was out of my element here. Even with a very musical industry family, I was ignorant of touring and musicians and what this might mean.

            I hadn't answered, so Rafe, and all his excess concert energy that I longed to tap into, patted my shoulder and kissed my cheek. And then he was gone, and I--- I just wanted to be home.

*******