Mia.
“Hey, rockstar! I—”
I can’t even look at her.
“I missed the call. I was on stage, and I fucking missed it.”
She’s by my side in an instant, cradling me as I come undone in her arms. I don’t care about anything else as I release every tear I’ve swallowed up until this moment. She holds me like she already knew this was coming, her fingers tracing my spine as she guides us to the couch. I bury myself in her. Let her hold the pieces together.
Then Johanna comes in, looking as shattered as I feel, mascara streaking down her cheeks, eyes red and face pale. I know she finally saw her phone, too. She sinks to the floor beside us and grabs my hand, anchoring herself to me.
For a long time, no one speaks.
We just hold each other, broken and silent, while the headliner’s opening chords thunder through the venue. The world outside goes on while the world inside us has stopped.
Eventually, I stand. It’s instantaneous, the way something inside me snaps back into place—not healed, just hardened. Like I have to get my shit together and pull myself through this.
“I need to get out of here,” I mutter, mostly to myself.
Mia moves immediately and starts gathering our things. “Okay, we’ll go tell Jake what happened and get on the next flight—”
“What do you meanwe?” I ask, and the minute I do, I hate the sound of my own voice. “You’re not coming.”
It’s harsh. Cold. Wrong. But I don’t take it back.
“What?”
She freezes. Her hands still. She lifts her head to look at me with her eyes wide in confusion.
I can’t look at her again. I stare at the floor. At the wall. Anywhere but those damn green eyes.
“Johanna and I need to go and deal with this. You should stay here.”
“Gray,” she whispers, stepping closer to me. “I want to be there. For you. Forbothof you. Why would you—?”
I put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from getting any closer to me.
“Because Ican’t fucking breathewith you there, okay?” My voice shatters the room. “I can’t think. I can’t process it. I can’t fucking fall apart the way I need to if you’re watching me with those eyes, waiting to fix me.I don’t want you to fix me.”
Her lips part, but nothing comes out.
“I need space,” I say again, lower and more dangerous. “I need to do this without you.”
She flinches like I struck her, and although it guts me, I don’t show it. She doesn’t argue anymore, either. She just nods once—a sharp, brittle motion. Her eyes are glassy, but the tears don’t fall. She doesn’t understand, but she accepts it. She’s stronger than I am, even in this.
I hate that I’m the one making her look like this. That I’m the one breaking her.
I know I should take it all back. I should tell her the truth—I saw the missed call from hospice the minute I got off stage. ThatLily called immediately after, and it set me off even more. It isn’t really her fault at all that I’m acting like this.
I’m drowning, and she’s the only thing that can save me.
But instead, I turn my back on her.
I leave before I can change my mind.
I leave because if I look at her for one more second, I’ll drop to my knees and never get up again.
I won’t fall apart here. I can’t.
