A/N: Hey y'all, surprise update! I realized I'm going to need to speed up my update schedule to finish before the Wattys, so here's a bonus! I'll be posting the next chapter tomorrow (Friday) as usual and there will be more bonuses throughout the month! As always, thanks so much for reading and for the love and support you've all given me.

SKYE

It's easy to ignore Jacks when I don't have to see him, but literally impossible when I'm photographing him on stage. Watching him in his zone like that, captivating a crowd of thousands, I'm drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

And I am definitely going to get burned.

Backstage is buzzing after the show. Band members are laughing and screwing around. Sticks has a joint in one hand while spinning a drumstick in the other. The bassist for Roman's band is making out with a brunette woman in the corner.

When Jacks walks in, you can see everyone's eyes snap to him for a moment. On stage or off, there's something about his presence that just draws attention.

I can see why that would be annoying for someone like Roman who has to compete with him.

He's wearing a white sleeveless tee under a blue denim vest. His muscular arms are on full display and his skin is glistening.

Damn.

He uncaps a water bottle and pours it over his head like a walking TikTok thirst trap.

Damn damn.

"Whoo!" Sticks shouts from the couch. "Shoulda done that one stage, Jacksy! Give the fans a show!"

Jacks smiles and flips him off. He turns toward me and seems to notice my presence for the first time.

"Hey, Skye, uh... Hey."

"Hey. Great show tonight!" I say. "I liked your handstand."

"I can't believe I did that." He puts his palm over his face. "It seemed like a good idea at the time, but if I had fallen on my ass it would've been all over the internet."

"You pulled it off though! I got a great shot of it too if you want to see."

"Yeah, actually," he says, looking around. "I've got some stuff to go over with Kay but you wanna meet me in my bus in 15 minutes and I can check it out?"

"Sure."

Because that's just what I need. More alone time with the world's most offensively attractive man.

I slide open the door to Jacks's bus and step inside. I debate closing it, but I quickly realize that I don't actually know how.

As I walk in, I'm startled by an unexpected figure ahead. A man I don't recognize is sitting at the booth in the front of the bus.

He has short brown hair that has been slicked back with hair gel and he's wearing a button-up shirt with a few too many buttons left unused. His teeth are blindingly white in contrast to his excessively tanned skin. He's easily in his fifties, though it seems he's done his best to hide it. He looks almost plastic, his skin pulled taut around his features like a sausage casing.

"Hey, whoa!" he says, standing up as I walk in. "You can't just come in here, sweetheart."

"I..." I say, pausing for a moment while my brain tries to process the unexpected stranger. "I was invited."

"Sure you were," he says. His face is nearly immobile as the corner of his mouth forms a smirk. "Listen, I'm sure you think you can show up and sneak into Jackson Ford's trailer and he'll sleep with yo-"

"Whoa!" I interrupt, holding up a hand to stop him. "I'm not here for... that. Jacks told me to meet him. Who are you, anyway?"

His brow furrows slightly and he huffs.

"Alright, I'm gonna do you a favor," he says, his voice thick and smooth like he's trying to sell me a used car. "You're a cute girl. Why don't you turn around and get out of here before you make a mistake? Jackson may seem dreamy in the posters on your wall, but he will chew you up and spit you out. He's not going to fall in love with you and write songs about you and take you to red carpet parties in fancy dresses. You're nothing to him."

I feel a twinge of sadness at his words—maybe because they confirm what I've feared. But I can't get over the fact that this guy is basically accosting me—in Jacks's trailer no less—insinuating that I'm a clueless lovelorn bimbo and Jacks is a jerk.

"As far as I can tell, only one of us is actually supposed to be here, asshole," I say, my hands landing on my hips. "Who the heck are you anyway and what is your problem?"

A slight twitch in his eye makes me think I've hit a nerve, but then an unnerving smile stretches across his face and he begins to laugh.

"You're gutsy, I love it!" he says. "If you really don't know who I am, I'm guessing you're not a fan or a groupie after all. Makeup artist?"

"Photographer," I say, narrowing my eyes.

"Ahh, you're the new tour photographer! Quite young, aren't you?" He reaches out a hand to shake mine. "Jackson Jeremiah Ford Senior. But you can call me Jerry."

Jackson. Jeremiah. Ford.

Senior?

My eyes pop open with recognition.

"You're Jacks's dad?" I ask, reluctantly taking his hand and shaking it.

I definitely just called him an asshole. Why do I have to say everything I think out loud?

"That's me. And you are?"

"Skye Kennedy."

"Nice to meet you, Skye," he says, sitting back down in the booth. "I apologize for the mixup, you know how it is—girls are always trying to sneak into Jackson's dressing rooms, trailers, hotel rooms. Well, mostly girls. These groupies always think they can invade his private spaces. I hope you can understand that, as a father, I feel I need to protect him. Come, sit."

He gestures to the seat across from him and I reluctantly sit.

This isn't awkward at all.

"So how long have you been a tour photographer?" he asks.

"Uh... this is actually my first tour. I've been a photographer for several yea-"

"Your first tour?" He raises an eyebrow. "How did you end up shooting Jackson Ford for your first job?"

"Well he and I met at a coffee shop and uh, I ended up doing some photos for him and then he said he had an opening on the tour."

I am so not ready to explain boudoir photos to Jacks's dad.

"Hmm. So are you two, you know?" He tilts his head.

"No!" I protest, maybe a little too firmly. "I mean, I'm uh... I'm engaged."

I look down at the ring around my finger and realize how weird it feels to say that out loud. I've barely even talked to my so-called fiancé since we started this tour.

"Oh, my! Congratulations!" He smirks in a way that makes me feel slightly uneasy. "Does my son know that?"

"Yeah, at the coffee shop, he was there when we first met. My fiancé I mean. Greg."

Smooth, Skye. That didn't sound suspicious at all. What are you even doing?

"Well that's quite the story,"

Before I can respond, we're interrupted by the bus door opening.

"Hey," Jacks says with a smile as he walks in. "Thanks for wa-"

He pauses. His expression falls and his jaw tightens as his eyes land on his dad.

"Hey Kiddo," Jerry says. "Long time no see."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jackson's voice is low and gritty, in striking contrast to his usual smooth and playful tone.

"That's a great way to say hello to your father." Jerry scoffs and shakes his head.

Jacks's expression is not one I've ever seen before. His whole demeanor is icy and cold.

"I'm sorry, Skye, would you mind giving us some privacy? I need to talk to my dad alone."

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