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I get it.
Without another word, I pat him on the back and then head to my dressing room. I’m more determined than ever to make things right with Becka, and I think I just found my opening.
* * *
The after-party is already in full swing by the time we show up. Instead of joining everyone else, I sneak away upstairs and call the one person I’ve been dying to talk to for the past eight months.
The phone rings so many times, I’m convinced she’s not going to answer. My whole body is strung tight like one of my guitar strings, but I refuse to hang up until she sends me to voice mail.
Come on, Becka. Answer the phone.
Then it stops and there’s silence. I check the phone and see the time of the call going up. She answered.
“Becka?”
When she still doesn’t say anything, I say, “I saw your brother.”
She’s silent on the other end of the phone, but I can hear her quietly breathing.
“How’ve you been?” I wait, the minutes stretching out before me like all the miles that have been between us the past eight months while I was on tour. Still, she says nothing, but she also doesn’t hang up.
My eyes close, and on a soft breath I admit, “I miss you, Becka.”
A shuddering breath travels through the line. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this, Trent,” she whispers, her voice hoarse and thick like she’s fighting back tears.
My chest tightens, and a sense of urgency overwhelms me, like if she hangs up, then that’ll be it. I’ll have lost her for good.
“Becka—” Before I’ve even finished the word, the line goes dead, and with it my hopes for salvaging my relationship with her.
I drop my hand from my face, the phone still clutched in my palm weighing it down. The sounds of the party filter into the room, and I turn just in time to see Tristan pop his head in.
“Hey, what are you doing in here? Are you actually hiding during a party in our honor?”
His smile falls as he looks me over, his eyes locking on the phone in my hand at my side. His gaze shoots back up to mine, and he steps fully into the room, closing the door behind him and silencing the rambunctious noise from the party. “Did you call her?”
I nod, still struggling to find my voice when all my energy seems to be focused on stopping the internal bleeding. That’s what happens when your heart’s ripped out, right? Even if it’s your own damn fault.
“What’d she say?”
I shake my head, fighting back my own emotions. I can’t lose her. She was struggling. That has to mean she’s not over me, right?
I stand up, a burst of energy shooting through me and that sense of urgency spreading like wildfire. “I have to go see her.”
Tristan blocks my path. “Okay, hold on a sec. What happened? What’d she say?”
I shake my head and run my hand over my head, my eyes looking everywhere around the room, unable to settle on any one spot while I try to come up with a plan.
“Trent.”
“She hardly said anything. She said she couldn’t do this, but she sounded like she was on the verge of tears.” I look at him, and he must see my desperation because he nods and says, “Okay, let’s go over to her place. I’m coming with you.”
I nod my head. “I don’t care if the whole band comes as long as I get over there tonight. I have to see her.”
We head back through the party and straight out to Tristan’s car. He turns on the car, but before we even have a chance to pull away, my aunt’s name flashes on his display as a call comes through the Bluetooth.
“Why would Aunt Jenny be calling this late? It’s gotta be nearly three a.m. in Texas,” Tristan asks aloud and then accepts the call.
“Hey, everything okay?”
