Iwas so off tonight and the audience was feeding off my energy. Johnny and Grady kept making eye contact with me and I can tell they’re pissed. I just can’t get out of this funk no matter how hard I try.
I fired Emily right before the show. I was done with her shit and I don’t care that we won’t have a tour manager. We don’t need her anymore. We did it all ourselves before. I’m sure we’ll make it work.
I know that’s why Sorrel is being odd. Emily has been picking on her since the start of the tour. I’m sure having Charli here stirred up more drama.
During the entire show, all I could think about was wanting to talk to Sorrel and figure out what was going through that beautiful mind of hers.
It wasn’t just Sorrel though. I’m already feeling burnout approaching and we’re only a couple months into this tour. Maybe I got too used to living a slower life. Doesn’t matter though, I’ve gotta see it through. I signed a contract and there’s no getting out of this.
Ticket sales have been great, and our fans are amazing—I really shouldn't be complaining. There’re a thousand other artists that would kill to be in our position. I feel guilt-ridden for even feeling this way.
When I sang the last song on the set list, I walked right off the stage. No autographs or goodbyes. I had to get out of there—out of the spotlight.
My chest feels tight and my breathing is shallow. I rush past everyone standing around back stage, including Sorrel. I can’t be around anyone right now.
I make it to my dressing room and slam the door shut. Sinking to the floor and slamming my head against the wall, I try to catch my breath. What the fuck is this? A damn panic attack?
I haven’t had one since I was a kid. The last one was when my mom and dad got into a huge fight and I tried to break it up. I was a lot smaller back then and he threw us both around like rag dolls. I remember feeling so hopeless—he was so much bigger than me—there was nothing I could do to stop him. My mom found me in my bedroom curled up in a ball in the midst of a full-blown panic attack. I remember thinking I was dying. I recognize the signs now, so I know I’m not having a heart attack.
There’s a soft knock at the door.
“Denton?” I hear Sorrel's sweet voice behind the door.
I try to breathe and get the words out. “Come—”Gasp.“In.”
She slowly opens the door, peeking her head in first.
“Oh my gosh, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say through shortened breaths. I attempt a fake smile, but she ain’t buying it.
Sorrel's eyes are dark with worry. I can tell by the stiff way she’s holding herself she doesn't know what to do. She’s scared to touch me. I open up my arm inviting her to come sit next to me. She hesitates and then slowly sits down like I’m a rabid animal who might attack at any moment.
“It’s just a panic attack,” I say, reassuring her. “It’ll pass.” My voice is gravel as I try to get the words out.
“Can I get you anything?”
“No, just sit here with me please.”
I wanted to be alone but I actually feel better having her here. She matches her breathing to mine and we both take in long deep breaths slowly letting them out.
“I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”
“Denton, don’t ever be sorry for that. It just proves you're human.”
I chuckle at that. “Yeah, that easy confidence thing I try to portray isn’t always the case,” I admit to her.
It’s part of my job to be confident and portray a certain look. Sorrel sees the real me. The ugly, the doubt, the fear, hesitation, all of it.
I look at her. “Are you leaving me?”
I don’t know why I ask her that. Something in my gut just tells me she is.
She looks down at her lap, brows knitting. “I’m going home with Charli tomorrow.”
I just nod. I don’t fight her on it because I get it. If I could go back to what she has, I would too. It breaks my heart but I understand.
“It’s not why you think.”
