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She looked surprised, mulling over my words in silence for a few beats. “But why would he tell you that he didn’t want you there? He’s in love with you, and he’s been miserable since you left.”
I couldn’t help but snort at that. “If he’s in love with me, he has a funny way of showing it.”
“You should hear the way he speaks about you. The way he writes about you. I’m telling you the truth, he’s never stopped loving you,” Violet insisted.
I dismissed the notion immediately, despite the conviction in her tone. I’m sure she believed what she was saying, but she was also a child with a romanticized view of the world. Just like I had been, back then.
“Look, I’m not sure what you think you’ve heard, but he was probably talking about someone else. Trust me, I’ve made my position clear. Gray is the reason we aren’t together, not me.” Hell, I’d written countless albums about how much I loved him—how much clearer could you get?
“Don’t patronize me. I’m not a silly kid who has no idea how the world works, okay?” she admonished.
Huh, she reminded me of me at that age. I knew I liked her.
Didn’t mean she was right though.
“I’m not trying to be patronizing. I can tell you’re smart and probably had to grow up a lot quicker than other kids your age. Believe me, I know what that’s like. But, I’m sorry. I just can’t believe Gray feels anything for me, when every single one of his actions says the complete opposite. I don’t know if he told you, but I asked Remy to pass along my number and a message to your brother before I left the hospital. Gray knows that if he wants me to come back, all he has to do is ask. Which hasn’t happened, so I can’t take that to mean anything other than he doesn’t want to see me,” I tried to explain my perspective without outright dismissing hers.
“He’s depressed,” she whispered. “He hasn’t been himself since you left. He cries himself to sleep when he thinks I can’t hear him. His journal is basically the world’s longest love letter, and it’s addressed to you, mixed in with a whole lot of self-loathing about how he messed things up with you.”
That surprised me. “He still keeps a journal?” I asked.
“Yep. And normally I don’t look, but I’ve been worried about him. At first, I hoped it was just his leg, but it isn’t. It’s you. So, I dug up some old journals in the attic, and it’s the same story. It’s always been you.”
“If he wants me, then why send me away? Why not come here himself or at least call me?” I questioned her.
“Look, just read it yourself, okay? Please,” she pleaded, verging on desperation. Reaching up to pull off her backpack, she retrieved three weathered notebooks, all of varying ages. Each representing a different chapter of Gray’s story. “Please, just read them and see for yourself. He’s really not okay right now. That’s why I’m here. I hoped that maybe you could go see him? Give him a chance to explain himself. Please,” she implored, eyes glassy and carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken worries.
“Violet,” I sighed, reluctantly accepting the offered pages. “It's not as simple as that. There’s... a lot of history between us. I don’t think I can ignore what happened or pretend he didn’t hurt me just because he might be having regrets now for the way he treated me.”
“Please, you have to understand. He didn’t say it outright, but I know I’m the reason you aren’t together. He left you because of me and I just want to make things right again. Let me fix this.” Her eyes glistened, her guilt palpable like the weight of her brother’s happiness rested solely on her fragile shoulders.
Stepping closer, I pulled her into a hug. Hoping to offer her comfort the way I wish I had received it in my own moments as a child, when it felt like I had no one to turn to. Like I had to solve everything myself. “It’s okay,” I murmured, pulling back to meet her gaze. “You’re not to blame for any of this. Gray is an adult, and his choices are his own.”
She frowned. “You’re not going to come back with us, are you?”
I let out a weary sigh, running my hand over my lightly stubbled jaw. “If he’s depressed, seeing me isn’t going to be the help he needs right now, Violet. But you can tell him, if he ever wants to talk to me, he can call me anytime and I’ll answer. I can promise that much.”
Her shoulders slumped, defeated. “Can I ask you one thing?”
“Go ahead.”
“Do you still love him?”
The familiar pang of sorrow gripped my chest. “I never stopped,” I confessed.
“Then why leave it all up to him? Why won’t you just try to work things out with him? What do you have to lose?”
Oh, that’s easy. My dignity. The last functioning remnants of my shattered heart. The ability to ever piece myself back together.
But, I held back those harsh truths. “I hope we’ll meet again someday, Violet,” I offered as a farewell, accompanied with a strained smile.
She saw right through me. “Just read the journals.”
∞∞∞
Back in my hotel room, I found myself fixated on the intricate design of the ceiling, unable to succumb to sleep. Wired from the show, adrenaline still pulsed through my veins, yet instead of dwelling on my shitty performance, I fought against the temptation to delve into Gray’s journals.
The moment I ditched my security detail and entered my suite, I had impulsively tossed the notebooks into the trash. After all, what purpose could there be in delving into Gray’s innermost thoughts?
