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What are they talking about? I’ve only been listening with one ear, and all the noises sound like they’re coming through water, as if my ears are clogged. All I can think about is Jesse. Jesse, and how his big chance may have been ruined.
We had a big talk about distractions last night.
I was determined not to be one.
But in reality? It may be too late for that. Because if he hadn’t been with me last night…
No. That wouldn’t have mattered. He would’ve been in his own room. He had his own room.
But still…
I can’t help feeling a huge amount of guilt.
The conversation around me keeps going on. Should Rory do something? She doesn’t feel right. Right about what? Maddie and Callie keep asking her what they can do for her, and she keeps saying nothing, that it’s not their problem. It’s hers. Then they move on to something else, and I stop listening again.
Until—
“I’m not sure you have a choice, babe.” Brock’s voice.
Rory crosses her arms and looks around the table. “I suppose I don’t. We owe them an explanation. Excuse me for a minute.” She scoots her chair away from the table, rises, and pulls out her phone as she walks away.
“You okay, sis?”
I widen my eyes at my brother’s voice. “Yeah. I suppose.”
Donny cocks his head. “You look kind of…out of it.”
“What’s going on? Who is Rory calling?”
“She’s calling Heather Myles, Jett’s wife. They exchanged phone numbers after the concert in Snow Creek, and they’ve kept in touch. She has to let Jett know what’s going on with Dragon.”
“You think they’ll be angry?”
“I don’t know, sis. I don’t know these people very well.”
“They’re good people,” Brock says. “Rory and I spent quite a bit of time with them. They’ll be understanding, I’m sure, but they may decide that Dragonlock can’t go on tonight.”
I gasp. “Why would they decide that?”
“Because the contract is with Dragonlock, all five members of the band,” Donny, the lawyer, says. “If all five can’t go on, they’ll be considered in breach.”
My heart plummets to my stomach. This was their big chance. Jesse’s big chance.
My heart aches for him. “What if they get a substitute drummer?”
“Where would we get a substitute drummer?” Brock asks.
I stare at him, forcing him to meet my gaze. “You.”
Brock’s eyebrows nearly fly off his forehead. “Me?”
“Yeah, you. You and Dave and those guys had that garage band back in middle school.”
“Uh…in case you’ve forgotten, Bree, we were shitty.”
“Still, you were the drummer, Brock.”
“There’s a reason I haven’t played drums for ten years.” Brock shakes his head. “I’m not an option, Bree. Believe me, I wish I were.”
