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“Yep, pretty much.” Plus, I can’t talk about it with him. I can talk to Lainey and Elise because they don’t know Trent that well. They were older or younger than us. But Will and I are only eleven months apart and had a lot of the same friends growing up, Trent included. He knows Trent. And he knows me. He’ll be able to see through whatever lie I try to tell him, and I’m not ready to admit the truth, so it’s better to not say anything.
He laughs. “Bullshit.”
I shrug and take another drink of wine.
He watches me carefully and then says, “You’re staying here tonight.”
“That didn’t sound like a question.”
“It wasn’t. If you think I’m going to let you drive home when you’ve been drinking, you clearly don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
I blanche a little and put my glass down. It’s only my third, but Will’s been overly cautious about drinking and driving. And he has every right to be. After all, his fiancée died in a drunk-driving accident.
And frankly I don’t want to fight him on this. I don’t want to go back to my empty condo that’s filled with memories of my night with Trent.
“Okay. I’ll stay, but I’m stealing Rex. I need a cuddle buddy.” I keep my voice light, but it’s the truth. Rex may not be the warm body I wish was next to me in bed, but he’ll do. And he won’t break my heart, so that’s a win in my book.
Will shakes his head. “I swear you’re trying to steal my dog from me.”
I rub my hands together. “You’re on to my evil plan. Mwahaha.”
“You’re such a weirdo.”
I can’t help but genuinely smile at that. “Who do you think I learned it from?”
He rolls his eyes at me, and I am so thankful for my brother that I almost want to tell him about Trent.
And maybe someday I will.
24
These have been the longest two weeks of my life. I thought eight months away from Becka was torture, but knowing I was so close to almost fixing things before I got pulled away again eats at me in a way touring didn’t.
Tristan and I have been going nonstop since we landed in Texas to help our Aunt Jenny with Uncle Ted. Fortunately, his heart attack wasn’t fatal. He’s going to have to cut back big time on the bacon and other fatty foods he’s grown used to being able to eat over the years, but he’ll live. Since our small hometown of Bishop Ridge doesn’t have a big hospital, we helped get him the best care in Austin and then stayed long enough to make sure that he was back on his feet, or at least in a position that wouldn’t be a burden to our aunt. She’s been hovering over him like a helicopter parent, and it’s clear this rattled her foundation. My aunt and uncle have been together since they were teens and got married young. She’s spent more of her life with him than without him. But this is the first time either of them has had a serious health issue, and it clearly hit her hard knowing how close she came to losing him.
It rattled Tris and me too. Our aunt and uncle are the only family we have left and have been more like parents to us than our real ones. I always found it fascinating that even though my mom and my aunt grew up in the same household, you couldn’t find two people more different. While my aunt was always focused on school and getting good grades, my mom fell into the drug crowd.
My mom was twelve when she smoked her first joint. By fifteen, she was partying hard and experimenting with harder drugs. Then she met my dad when she was eighteen and started partying even harder. She apparently stopped doing drugs when she found out she was pregnant with me—at least that’s what Aunt Jenny says. Since I didn’t come out addicted to coke, I’m inclined to believe her. At least my mom did one thing right. She stayed sober until after Tristan was born. By then my parents had been together for a few years and were constantly fighting. My dad left, and that drove my mom to start drinking more. Then she found out that he overdosed and she spiraled. When cocaine didn’t give her the high she wanted, she went deeper and tried heroin, and from there it was just a ticking time clock on her life. She lasted longer than we thought she would, but we spent several bouts living with our aunt and uncle while she claimed she was trying to get her life together again. I was eleven, Tristan nine, when my aunt and uncle finally got permanent custody, something they’d spent a long time fighting for. Our mom died two years later from an overdose.
When I got older, I begged my uncle to tell me the truth about my mom and what happened. I had been so young in the early years when my dad was around. When he told me my dad leaving was what finally broke her, all I could think was that she must’ve really loved him to throw her whole life away for a man who left her. To throw away her kids. I’ll never forget that she chose drugs over us. I’ve worked hard to forgive her, and I have—mostly. But I’ll never forget.
Being back here in Texas, it’s not my mom I can’t stop thinking about. It’s all the memories that came after. My uncle seeing how listless Tristan and I were. Him teaching us how to play guitar and piano. The first time I wrote my feelings down as a song and Tristan and I wrote music for it. Playing with Will and Becka in the neighborhood, riding bikes, playing flag football on the muddy grass after a big storm, meeting Kasen and Miles in my first band class in high school, forming the band, my first kiss—with Becka no less.
All those memories pummel me the entire time I’m here. It’s been a long time since we’ve spent this much time in Texas, and even though I love getting to spend time with my aunt and uncle, I’m more than ready to get back to LA by the time they drop us off at the airport.
When the plane lands at LAX, I turn to Tristan. “I’m getting a separate ride from you. I’m going to Becka’s.”
The corner of his lips lift in response and he just nods. He doesn’t fight me on it or tell me I’m insane to still be chasing this woman after she’s basically blown me off for eight months.
But I can’t give her up. Not until she tells me to my face that she doesn’t want me.
I’m tired of her pushing me away, and I can’t stand the distance between us anymore. I miss her, and I need her as much as I need my next breath.
This time I’m going to fight for what I really want.
* * *
I should’ve known she wouldn’t be home when I showed up. I pace in front of her door for a minute thinking about what my next step should be when her car pulls up and parks. She gets out of the car and rubs her eyes before locking it and starting to make her way to her front door. And a horrible thought runs through my head. Did she not sleep here last night?
