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“Well, maybe next time text him back. You won’t get any answers by shutting down, Becka. You have to communicate with him.”
God, that’s so much easier said than done. It’s so much easier just to ignore him and run away from my problems.
“Becka?”
“Yeah, I heard you, Mom.” And I did. But I still don’t know if I’m strong enough to talk to him. What if talking makes things worse?
The truth is, I’m afraid of what I feel for him and how badly he could crush me. I need to get thicker skin before I talk to him again. I need to know that he won’t break me.
But as time goes on, I wonder if I’ll ever get to that point, or if I’ve fallen too far anyway.
19
TWO MONTHS LATER
Sometimes silence is louder than words. My brother told me that after Becka’s first month of radio silence. Now two months later, the words cycle through my head every time I send a text that goes unanswered. But like the fool that I am, I still send her a message every week.
In some selfish way, it makes me feel like at the very least she can’t forget me.
Unless of course she’s blocked me, but I don’t think she has. I hope she hasn’t.
Robbie pops into the backstage area where we’re getting ready. “Y’all set for the film crew?”
Tristan nods, and Robbie sends them in. A normal tour is hard enough, but adding a film crew to it has added an extra layer of pressure. Not to mention the fact that I haven’t quite been myself. Normally, I play up the rock star persona on tour. It’s what people expect, and I’ve never really had a problem with it before. The band knows who I am.
But Becka’s going to see this footage, and the idea of her seeing me flirt with other women makes me sick to my stomach. So instead, I’ve been myself, which is terrifying in its own right. Miles and Tristan have been keeping an eye on me, neither ever letting me be alone for too long. Kasen is in his own world, which is concerning in itself. More and more, he’s acting like he did when he was using before. So the fact that Miles and Tris have to split their time babysitting the two of us makes me feel like shit.
I’m supposed to be the papa bear. I’m supposed to hold everyone else together, not be the one who falls apart. But lately, I feel like my foundation is crumbling. I’m writing killer songs, so at least there’s some small semblance of a silver lining, but it doesn’t make up for the void that Becka left inside me.
I’d give anything to change how that morning turned out, but there’s nothing I can do to fix it now, especially not when we’re on the road for the next several months. So, now I just settle for feeling lost.
The camera crew comes in, and Fletcher, the creator and director, gets set up. He’s interviewing Kasen tonight, and I’ve never been so grateful not to have the spotlight on me. I need a night off. We’ve been going nonstop, and it’s wearing me down more than it ever has before.
I’m exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally.
We all do our preshow routines while Kasen does his interview and then head out to the stage. The bright lights hit me, and I instantly feel their heat across my skin. I grip the mic in my hand and hold it to my mouth, hearing my breath echo across the stadium as our fans screams die down until it’s so quiet, I can hear when the guy in the back coughs. Tristan plays the opening chords, then I open my mouth, pouring my heart—or what’s left of it—into the lyrics until I’m lost to the sea of faceless fans before me. But there’s no high this time. The adrenaline that usually courses through my veins isn’t there. I feed off the energy of the crowd just to get through the show, but it’s not my best performance. I doubt anyone out in the crowd noticed, but I do.
The show finally comes to an end, and we leave the stage, the roar of the crowd behind us until we’re so far backstage we can’t hear them anymore. I’m lost in a daze as I quickly shower and then escape the craziness of our band dressing room, where groupies are already hanging on Kasen and Miles. I sneak out the side door, hoping to get out before anyone sees me. The cab I called is already here and waiting for me, but before I can slide in, Tristan shows up behind me. “Thought you could use some company tonight.”
I frown, but I’m too tired to fight him on this. I want to be alone, but maybe I shouldn’t be.
Without a word, I get in the cab with Tristan right on my heels. We ride in silence to the park I found online and then walk to the swing set. Again, he doesn’t speak and neither do I. He just lets me do my thing.
I kick hard, pushing myself higher and higher, and then throw my body off, but instead of landing on my feet like I always do, I overshoot and land in a pile of limbs.
“Trent!”
I groan as I roll over. Everything hurts. My heart, my mind, and now my body.
But maybe I deserve this.
Tristan rushes over to me. “Shit. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Nothing’s broken.” But I don’t move. I just lie there. “I fucked it up, Tris.” Tears fill my eyes. “I miss her so damn much.”
He sits down and leans his arms over his bent knees. “I know you do.”
“I want her back. I want to go back to that morning and not fuck it all up.”
