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“What the fuck, Stella?”
“Riggins, I?—”
“So what, you think I’m out of control?” he asks, a taunt in his words. “I’m going to, what did you say? Drink myself into an early grave just like my father?”
“That’s not fair?—”
“You must be so disappointed,” he says, continuing to talk over me. “Getting hooked to the loser kid, an out-of-control drunk just like his dad. You could have had any of those rich bastards your mom begged you to date, but you chose me, and it’s not what you expected. Heads up, Stella, you’re on a fucking rock tour. What did you expect, tea parties and dollies?”
Something changes on his face, moving to something mean and cruel, and I brace for impact. He’s never been mean to me, and I’ve never seen this angry, defensive side of him, but I have seen it in his father. “Or maybe you just imagined some silly little whirlwind romance, you and me writing across the country, sitting under the stars while everyone else fucking enjoys themselves.”
It hurts.
It hurts badly. It must show on my face because, for a split second, his face goes soft, like he regrets the cruel words, but then it’s gone as he straightens his face and his body and crosses his arms on his chest.
“Look, Stella. We’re all of legal drinking age. I’m sorry you aren’t. Maybe you were right all along; you shouldn’t have come. Maybe this is just too much for you.”
Another knife to my gut.
“This is what a tour is like. Drinking and parties and music. It’s not that I’m a fucking alcoholic; it’s that this is how the real world looks once you’re out of your little bubble of Ashford. If it’s too much for you, you know how to leave.”
I open my mouth to say something, though I don’t think a single word would come out of my throat if I tried, the lump there so large, so painful, but there’s no time as he stomps down the center of the bus, slamming the door behind him as he leaves, an eerie quiet in his wake.
That’s when the dam breaks, and I fall to the ground and cry as I’ve never cried before in my life. I cry about the life I thought I’d be living and the way this tour has not been what I thought. I cry about how maybe Riggins is right; it’s my own fault.
I’ve watched movies and TV shows and read books, I should have known. I cry because I don’t know what that means for Riggins and me, the only boy I’ve ever loved, ever wanted to love me my entire life.
I cry because it just might mean my mother was right all this time, and this was the absolute worst decision I could have ever made.
“Stell?” a familiar voice says what could be seconds, minutes, or hours later, but I don’t move. I can’t. I continue to sit in my heap as two sets of feet come my way.
“What the fuck?” a deeper voice says.Beckett.
“Stella,” the other voice whispers.Reed.Strong arms are grabbing me, lifting me, moving me to the couch at the front of the bus, Beck’s cologne filling my nose.
“Stella, what happened?”
“I fuckin’ told you we needed to talk to him sooner,” Wes says under his breath, but still audible. “His shit is getting out of control, drinking the second he wakes up, not stopping until he passes out. He’s irrational, and now he’s taking it out on Stella.” He says my name like it’s a crime to be unkind to me.
“I didn’t think…” Reed starts.
“You all walk on fucking eggshells around him, but someone needs to talk some fucking sense into him before shit gets bad.” A new bolt of fear and nerves strikes through me as I realize it wasn’t all in my head, that it isn’t just me being immature and inexperienced. Riggins has a problem, and Beck sees it, too. He moves, sitting on the couch with me.
“Stella, what happened?” Reed asks, ignoring his bandmate.
“I… I… I,” This is getting nowhere, so I force myself to take one, two, three deep breaths in, filling the very bottom of my lungs as I do before I sniff and proceed. “I was on the phone with my sister. I… I’m worried about him. He drinks all the time. He wakes up and grabs a beer. I was just... I was venting to her because I’ve never had to address anything bad with him. Ever. We’ve…” My mind drifts off as I try to confirm, try to sift through a lifetime of memories. “We’ve never actually had a real disagreement before. I’ve never had to talk to him about anything, much less… this.”
Beck’s hand moves, brushing my hair back, and I keep talking. In the corner of my eye, I see Reed and Wes look at each other, exchanging silent words.
“He walked in when I was talking to her. I was venting, you guys, I swear. I…” I pause, trying to justify. “I swear I don’t think he’s like his dad or that he’s bad or?—”
“We know Stella,” Reed says low. “We know. We get it.”
“I was just venting to my sister the way I always do. She’s... she’s my sister!”
“We know, Stell,” Beck says, the most comforting I’ve ever heard him be. I look at Reed, Riggins’ closest friend.
“He was so mad, Reed. He yelled at me.” Beck’s arm tightens around my middle, and his voice rumbles against me.
