I sat up and looked wide-eyed at Leo. “You think he would?”
“Probably not after this.”
I laughed, and it was my turn to hide my face.
“I’m kidding. In the tour, he mentioned that he always wanted to make sure the bands felt free to create without the pressure of being watched. And with zero risk of anything being leaked early. He’s big on privacy.”
“You know, I got that impression,” I said.
We sat in silence for several minutes, neither of us ready to pop our bubble of contentment. The room seemed to soak sound up, and it was a new, restful type of quiet.
I looked back at the drum set, remembering how gorgeous he looked as he played, how in his element and in his body he’d seemed. He was far from the man who seemed to feel out of place everywhere he went. He was talented, wonderful, and sweet, and this growing sensation in my chest started to drown my lungs. I couldn’t ruin this for myself. I wouldn’t ruin it for him. I calmed my thoughts.
“Do you miss playing?” I asked softly.
“More than I thought I did,” he admitted.
“Why did you stop?”
A long exhale escaped his chest, lifting and dropping my shoulders with it.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“I’m just trying to sort out my thoughts,” he admitted.
I smiled to myself at his vulnerability. He was one of the most open people I’d ever met, and I could kick my former self for misinterpreting his care and deliberateness for lying or self-centeredness.
“I have nowhere else to be,” I said and turned my head to kiss his still bare chest. I liked the little bumps that formed at the gesture.
“I think I associated the drumming with all the bad parts.” He hesitated again, but I waited patiently. I would always be patient to hear his whispered confessions. “The fighting. The stress. The way it all ultimately ended.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been punishing myself on some level. I didn’t feel like I deserved to play for how things ended.”
My heart twisted for him and his pain. I knew this man so well now. I understood what an intensely giving person he was for those he cared about.
People like me. I closed my eyes and stayed focused on the now.
“How did it end?” I asked tentatively. “Since, you know, I’ve signed the NDA and all that.”
His laughter rumbled through me. “They kicked me out. Like I said. I walked into rehearsal one day; we were halfway through the tour, and the moment I entered the room, the truth was on all their faces before I spoke.” His swallow was audible behind me.
“How could they do that to you?” I shook my head.
“I deserved it,” he admitted. I turned to study him as I pulled up my knees to tuck under my chin. There was no way this man who cared for me when I was sick, who had infinite patience for Cath and my antics, could ever be so bad that he got fired. It was incomprehensible.
He must have seen the confusion written all over my face.
“I was...I didn’t like fame and touring. I didn’t like anything about it except when we played music. But I hated how claustrophobic I felt as our fame grew. We got big pretty fast.” He huffed a laugh. “It was all Vander and I dreamed about for so long, and then we got it. We were selling out shows, being featured in prestigious online music magazines, and being used in movie soundtracks. The faster we grew, the lessauthenticanything felt. The same mindless interviews. The screams of ‘take off your shirt’—by the way, I only take off my shirt because I hate the way it feels when I’m sweating.” I nodded. He would never do that to be some sort of sex icon. Now, at least, I understood. “The relentless schedule was the hardest. We never had a break. We never had downtime.”
“Even doing what you love, what gives you life, you still need a break,” I said.
“The record label didn’t want us to be forgotten. We had a social media person tour with us, and we went viral.”
I’d seen the short videos he was talking about, fan edits of him and Vander looking absolutely delicious. It didn’t hurt that they were incredibly good-looking in addition to having legitimate talent.
“And after a couple of years, I realized I hated it. All of it. Even the touring because we didn’t have the space or freedom to write new stuff. We were always on someone else’s schedule. Even saying it out loud makes me sound like such an asshole. I should be grateful, but I was exhausted.”
I wrapped his arms around me like a blanket. “I couldn’t last as long as you did.”
His sigh ruffled the top of my head. “Vander was never happier. He was living his dream. And that’s what kept me going. I would think about being back in Green Valley and how badly we’d wanted to get out, and it would keep me focused. But then, I don’t know. It started to catch up to me.” He swallowed again. “I started having panic attacks before shows. I stopped going to the scheduled press stuff. I had this temper...You talk about having a temper, but it’s nothing compared to my fits. I wasn’t sleeping or eating. Everything felt like it was closing in on me. I just broke down. I threw my sticks in rehearsal one day and kicked over a set I was using. Thousands of dollars of damage. I was acting like a spoiled rock star. That part was true. That video ofme walking off in the middle of a show.” He groaned and rubbed his face. “Someone threw something at me. They don’t show that in the clips, but I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I should have just told security and had them escorted out. PR tried to downplay it, but the next day, I walked into the room and got fired.”
