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In the past, when I got dumped, I cried. I felt bad for myself. I stashed myself away with books and chocolate. I rued the day I was born into the Halifax family. This time, I throw myself into helping Mom organize Dad’s holiday shows. He’s booked from early October until the first of January, and there is a team of people to handle everything, but Mom has always been involved. She checks, double-checks, and triple-checks everything. She vets the new hires. She knows everyone in the road crew. She’s Dad’s first advocate, and once again I’m astonished to see how much work goes into being a performer of an international caliber.
I get delegated an endless list of small tasks. My parents are happy that I’m participating in the family's business, and I get a way to channel my thoughts away from Jace.
Go, go, go mode saves me from wallowing, and by the end of September, the edge of separation has dulled. I meant it when I said Jace was different. He was. He helped me be brave, and that’s all he’ll ever be for me—a stepping stone, a nudge, a summer mirage.
I’m okay.
My parents and I sit down for an extra late dinner after another day of bouncing emails and phone calls back and forth, and Mom sighs. “It’s been too quiet.”
“Quiet?” I place a few small pieces of roasted squash onto my plate. I won’t eat the whole dinner with them. Evenings are my escape time. I can’t stay inside once the work day is over. Instead of being my shelter, my home has become my prison. I haven’t set foot in the guitar den or the studio since my last morning with Jace. Some of my best summer moments were spent in those rooms, and I won’t let the memories push me into a bottomless pit of regrets. “You call today quiet? It’s nine thirty and Dad is still on the call with his band.”
Mom closes her eyes for a second, betraying a bit of weariness, then leaves no visible space on her plate under a pile of vegetables and chicken meatballs. “I meant—”
“Oh, this looks amazing.” Hal arrives from work, gives my mom a quick hug, and drops onto his usual chair. “You’re only now sitting down to eat?”
Both Mom and I shrug.
I munch through my squash and prepare to get out even though it’s getting late. It’ll have to be a quick drive to air out my head.
Dad walks in, groaning like a sleep-deprived bear. “Big curveball,” he announces.
Scrunching up her face in a fatigued cringe, Mom rests her forehead in her palm. “Hit me.”
“I’ll handle it, love.” He gives her a kiss on the top of her head before sitting down.
I forbid myself to resent their relationship. I refuse to hurt over what I can’t have. I never begrudged them their happiness before, and I won’t start now.
“I’ve got to find a new rhythm guitarist.”
Mom, Hal, and I stop chewing.
“What happened?” Hal asks.
“Ramsey just quit.”
Ramsey is—was—more than just Dad’s rhythm guitarist. He was Dad’s backup, and one of his closest buddies overall. Him quitting is a big blow.
“Why?” Mom explodes, sounding offended and sad at once. “We’re leaving in a week!”
“He’s moving on.” Drinking from his glass, Dad pats her hand. “It’ll be fine. I’ll find a replacement in no time. Laurel, is Jace available by any chance?”
I butter a fluffy roll, hungrier than I thought I was, and as I bite in, I realize everyone is watching me. “What?”
“Is Jace touring or recording right now?” Dad asks.
I freeze with a lump of bread in my mouth. Uh-oh. I’ve gotten so good at avoiding thinking about Jace that Dad’s first question breezed over my ears. I’ve been hiding the fact that we broke up. I don’t want any comments or pity. I also don’t want my family to change their opinion of Jace. It’s not as if he completely trampled over my feelings and broke my fragile, little heart. Dad was friends with Jace before he and I had our…rebound deal.
Unfreeze. Keep eating. Relax my shoulders and smile. “Jace? Not that I know of.”
“We haven’t seen him for a while,” Mom adds. “How is he doing?”
I take another bite and take my time to chew and swallow. How do I even answer that? My tongue won’t turn to lie, but… “He’s busy. You know Jace. Always chasing this or that.” I swallow, and the roll goes down sideways, causing me to cough. Tears well in my eyes. They threaten to bust my serene charade. Probably turning red in the face, I reach for my water at a leisurely pace and take a long sip.
“He does get busy,” Hal says, stuffing meatballs behind his cheeks, looking a lot like a chipmunk. “I haven’t seen him at the shop for a while either. Longer than usual.” He steals a questioning look at me.
I shrug and push my plate away. Forget the food. I’ve got to get out of here before all nightmares break loose.
Dad’s not done talking though. “You think he’d be interested in coming along just for this series of shows?” he asks me.
