They both snickered as Liam shook his head. “No, Ms. Sloan and I are just friends,” he said, lifting his eyebrows as he said her name the way I should have. “But how did you know who I was talking about?”
Shit. My stupid big-ass mouth.
“I overheard her talking one day to some other teacher at lunch, and I’d just assumed.” I played it off with a casual shrug, although my thoughts were spinning chaotically.
Had I misinterpreted what I’d witnessed that day by her car? Was it possible that he was just consoling her as a friend because of everything that had happened with the Jonah debacle? And because of that, I’d never apologized? Just left her thinking I viewed her as a lying, manipulative bitch… which was probably why she thought I never came back to her class?
You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.
“Well, congrats to you both. I wish y’all the best,” I ended the awkward silence, then looked off to the side and made up the fastest excuse I could to get out of there. “I think I see my family right over there, so I better get going. I’ll see y’all around.”
Mr. Carroll nodded hesitantly then congratulated me again as I took off in a near-jog toward where I’d parked my truck. I didn’t have time to try to find my parents before I left, as I was sure everybody and their grandma was trying to meet and get a picture with my dad, and we had to be on an airplane in four hours on our way to California. I had an apology speech to deliver that couldn’t wait another minute. Fuck the graduation.
Breaking almost every traffic law possible, I hauled ass to Belle’s apartment, hoping and praying she’d be there. My knuckles turned a purplish-white as I gripped the wheel and sped down the inner-loop streets of Houston, desperate to get to her. I wasn’t sure what it’d fix or what would happen after; I just knew I couldn’t leave without telling her how sorry I was, what a dipshit I’d been, and that I still loved her.
God, did I still love her.
Less than ten minutes after I left the auditorium, I came to a screeching stop in front of her garage apartment and threw my door open, sprinting up the stairs to her front porch. I was so focused on what all I had to say to her that I didn’t even notice her car wasn’t there.
“Belle? Are you here?” I shouted, as I pounded repeatedly on the front door, my heart thumping wildly in my heaving chest. “It’s me! I need to talk to you! Please! Open the door, Belle! It’s important!”
I continued to knock and yell for I don’t know how long until an older woman yelled out to me from the house next door, “Excuse me! Hey, you! What do you think you’re doing? Get off my property before I call the police!”
Snapping my neck over to her, I held my hands up to show I meant no harm. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Didn’t mean to bother you,” I called back. “I’m just trying to find the young lady who lives here, Belle Sloan. It’s very important I talk to her. Have you seen her around today?”
“Yeah, she dropped her keys off and told me goodbye just a couple hours ago.”
“Goodbye?!” I shouted, quickly moving down the stairs and over to where she stood near her front flowerbed. “Where was she going? On summer vacation? Do you know when she’ll be back?”
The woman narrowed her eyes on me and crossed her arms over her chest. “No, boy. She’s gone gone. Like moved away gone.” Then, glancing over at my truck, realization lit up her face. “You haven’t been coming ‘round here anymore. I thought maybe that’s why she wanted to leave. To forget about you.”
“Probably, I was an asshole,” I admitted, with a curt nod, “but that’s why I’m here. I have to tell her I fu—messed up. And that I’m sorry. And that I love her.”
She curled her nose up at me and shook her head. “Well, your timing is shitty, and I have no idea where she moved to. She told me she’d stop by to pick up her mail in a couple of weeks, so I’m assuming she’s staying local, but that’s all I know. Good luck to you.”
Spinning around, she marched back inside her house as I stood in the front yard, on the verge of an emotional breakdown. I dug my phone out of my back pocket and tried to call her, hoping by some crazy chance that she’d pick up, but I received an error message before it ever rang, saying the number I’d called had been disconnected. Of course it had. A knot formed in the back of my throat as I trudged over to my truck and got in, cursing under my breath the entire way.
This could not be fucking happening. Not right before I was supposed to fucking leave for the next nine or ten months. There was no damn way I could get on that plane without talking to her first.
“EVERETT, I UNDERSTAND you’re upset, but there’s not a later flight out tonight and we’re due in the label’s office at nine tomorrow morning,” my dad huffed, as he carried his and my mom’s luggage outside to the Suburban.
I followed hot on his heels as he crossed the front yard, refusing to give up. “What if there’s one early tomorrow morning and I can just join you guys right before the meeting? I’ll take a cab to the hotel or wherever you are. Come on, Dad. I promise I won’t miss the meeting. Just give me the night to try and find her. I really need to do this before I go. I swear I won’t let you down.”
Utter desperation had set in. I didn’t have the first clue how to try to find Belle, but I couldn’t just give up. Not telling her how I felt would be a regret I lived with for the rest of my life.
“I’m sorry, son, but the answer is no. And there is nothing you can say or do to change my mind about this unless you’re willing to forfeit going on tour.” He dropped the suitcases on the ground at the back of the SUV then fixed his steel gray stare on me. “If anything were to happen tomorrow, like bad weather or a broken-down plane or anything else, and you didn’t make the meeting tomorrow, that would be it for you. Done. Finished. These aren’t the kind of people you no-show on. They’ve got millions of dollars invested in this tour, and if you show them you’re not taking it seriously, then they’re not gonna take you seriously. There are a thousand other bands that are good enough to open for this show, and I can guaran-fuckin’-tee you that they wouldn’t take the chance of missing something as important as this. So I need to know right now what it’s gonna be. Are you all in or are you out?”
The answer should’ve been a no-brainer. I hadn’t talked to Belle in over two months. For all I knew, she hated my guts and never wanted to see me again, whether I was apologizing or not. And that was assuming I could even find her in this city of over six-million people. Making music was my life, my dream. I was damn good at writing songs and even better at performing them. And if I played my cards right and continued to grow and push myself, I knew I could make a killing in the industry.
Yet despite all of that, I still found myself hesitating to reply.
As if he recognized the internal battle I was fighting, he stepped closer to me and rested a comforting hand on my shoulder, his expression and tone relaxing. “I’m not trying to be a dick, Everett. I believe that you love the girl, I really do. But you need to be smart about this. Rash and thoughtless actions are what started this mess to begin with. Why don’t you get to LA and get on the bus then spend some time adjusting to your new life before making any serious decisions? If things are meant to be with you and Belle, it’ll find a way to work itself out. Just like with me and Mom. We always found a way to fly back to each other.”
Wanting so much to believe in what he said, praying I was doing the right thing, I nodded and forced a smile. “I’m all in, Dad.”
A couple of hours later, I was already questioning my decision. My emotions pulled me in eight different directions at once, but there I sat on the stupid plane with my dad next to me, signing autographs, of course, for random people who passed by. I knew he’d chosen the seat next to me for emotional support, but I would’ve much rather Ashlynn been there so I would’ve been left alone. I was so mentally exhausted I just wanted the plane to get in the air and then I would try to focus on the in-flight movie and maybe a bag of peanuts. My insides were filled with tears, but
I didn’t dare let one seep out.
Closing my eyes as I waited for the rest of the people to board, I leaned back in my chair and rested my head against the side of the plane, passing out without even realizing it. When we hit a bit of turbulence, I was startled awake with lyrics repeating themselves over and over in my head.
“Dad, I need my notebook and a pen. This song came to me while I was asleep. It’s exploding inside my head,” I murmured to him.
As he scrambled to his feet and grabbed my carry-on from the compartment above, I leaned over and got Ashlynn’s attention from across the aisle. “Hey sis, what was that melody you were humming in the airport earlier?”
She smiled and shrugged casually. “Just something I’ve been playing with. I haven’t quite figured it out yet.”
“Come here. I think I got it,” I urged as I lifted up the armrest between mine and Dad’s seat to make room for her to squish between us. Looking as excited as I felt, she quickly moved over.
Dad handed me what I needed and I furiously jotted it down what I had, using some of the techniques Mr. Carroll had taught me to finish up the last couple of stanzas and pull it all together.
“Alright,” I nodded at her, “start humming it and I’ll join in with the lyrics.”
Ashlynn naturally knew where I wanted her to break and pick back up, and as Dad watched and listened to us harmonizing together, his gray eyes big with wonder, he lowered his tray table and began tapping out the beat. We had our own little jam session going on in first class.
It took us a couple of times of trial and error to get it perfect, but just before the plane touched down in California, we ran through the entire thing flawlessly, and as the final lyrics fell from my mouth in a hushed whisper, a single tear rolled down my cheek.
The song was done. I could only hope Belle and I weren’t.
I UNLOADED THE groceries weighing my arms down on the counter with a huff, exhausted from lugging the bags up two flights of stairs in the stifling summer heat. If this was what mid-June was like in Houston, I was afraid August might just melt me. Delaying the inevitable task of having to put the food away, I pulled the mail out of the bag I’d stuffed it in and thumbed through the stack of bills and junk advertisements, when my fingers grazed an envelope with a return address I never expected to see.
“What the…” I murmured aloud, as I stared at the piece of mail for a split second before dropping it like it could burn my fingertips. How did he find me?
Shifting my attention back to the groceries, I began emptying the plastic sacks, my hands shaking, and storing the food in either the fridge or pantry, but the envelope wouldn’t stop calling out to me. My eyes unable to stop drifting over to where it sat. The intelligent part of me told me to throw it away, to forget I ever saw it, but the curious, foolish side was dying to see what was inside.
It had been almost three weeks since school had let out and I moved into my new place. Three weeks since I said goodbye to that apartment and school, in hopes that memories of him would stop haunting me. And honestly, I’d been doing pretty good. Sure, I only listened to country music so I didn’t risk hearing one of his dad’s songs on the radio, and yeah, I hadn’t had a single peanut butter and banana sandwich during that entire time, even if it was my absolute favorite thing in the world to eat, but overall, I thought I was making real progress.
However, one small, white, rectangular package now threatened all of it.
I opened a bottle of wine.
Poured a glass.
Took a sip.
Walked away from the kitchen.
Came back.
Drank the rest of the glass.
Poured another.
Sat down on a stool.
Then, recklessly ripped open the envelope and pulled out the contents, spreading it out on top of the counter.
With my heart hammering violently against my ribcage, for several minutes, I simply stared in disbelief at the three pieces of paper from inside — three pieces of paper that could possibly change the course of my life.
First, and most importantly, there was the handwritten letter that explained the significance of the other two items. I read it at least a dozen times.
As I sat there holding the paper in my trembling fingers, so many questions popped into my head. Everett was trying to find me? He’d been banging on my door the day he left? He wanted to apologize? He was miserable without me? He loved me? And why, if all that was true, did he act like I didn’t exist to him for the last two months? What had changed?
I checked the date on the flight reservation and saw that it was for this Saturday morning — the day of the concert — which was only four days from now. I had less than a week to decide if I wanted to reopen that wound. There wasn’t any doubt I still loved him. I never stopped. No matter how angry I was at him, I couldn’t just turn off my feelings or forget about what we’d shared. But did I want to take the chance that seeing him again could possibly heal the hurt that still lurked inside me, all while knowing that if it didn’t go well, I was setting myself up for devastation? Could my heart survive walking away from him a second time?
Closing my eyes, I inhaled and exhaled several deep breaths as I thought long and hard about what I should do. The age-old battle of head versus heart warred inside me, but when my eyes fluttered open, I realized there was never really a decision to be made. In the end, I didn’t want to live with the regret of not taking the chance, and love was always worth the risk.
I STARED AT my reflection in the fancy hotel bathroom of my even fancier room at the Four Seasons and said one final prayer that this all wasn’t going to blow up in my face. When I landed in LA earlier in the day, I’d texted Mason to let him know I was in town and would be at the show. He replied with an all-caps “THANK YOU,” and after that, I’d been left alone with my thoughts in a city where I had more bad memories than good, hoping tonight wouldn’t be yet another to add to that pile.
Stay positive, Belle. His dad wouldn’t have sent you a damn ticket out here if he thought Everett didn’t want to see you.
Wearing the same iris-colored blouse, ripped skinny jeans, and black boots I had on the night we first met, which was coincidentally the only other time I’d seen Everett perform on stage in front of an audience, I did a final inspection of my appearance then headed out the door to catch a cab to the concert.
Nerves twisted and twirled in my stomach throughout the entire ride over and as I went through the gates at the Hollywood Bowl. It felt strange to be there by myself, but in the massive crowd of bodies — most of them scantily-clad females, ranging from teeny boppers to soccer moms — I wasn’t sure anyone even noticed. Making my way down to the very front of the amphitheater, I passed through several checkpoints until I finally reached the “pool circle,” the area right next to the stage where there were no seats.
The final security officer who checked my badge smiled down at me. “You know you have backstage access, right? If you want to go back there before the show, you’ve got about twenty minutes, and the entrance is right over there,” he said, pointing off to the side, where a group of other official-looking people stood.
“Thank you, but I’m okay right now,” I replied politely. “I think I’ll go ahead and claim my spot before it gets too crowded.”
With it being his very first show of this magnitude, the kick-off to their big tour, the last thing I wanted was to throw Everett off his game by surprising him beforehand. He needed to be focused on his music, and afterward, I’d let him know I was here.
For the next half hour or so, I watched the people pour in, filling up the open-aired arena to the backdrop of one of the most spectacular pink-and-orange-kissed sunsets I’d ever seen. The energy around me was exhilarating, everyone buzzing about the long-awaited return of Jobu’s Rum, back on tour, and the eagerness to find out if Mason Templeton’s kids’ band would be half as good as their dad’s. I already knew they were better.
Just after nightfall, peopl
e began moving around on stage, doing final preparations to the instruments minutes before Everett and Ashlynn appeared together and started their set by playing a hit single from Jobu’s Rum’s first album. The entire crowd went nuts, hooting and hollering to the point I could literally feel my organs vibrating inside of me.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, as he looked sexier than ever under the bright lights wearing his typical plain t-shirt, jeans, and chucks. Watching him perform in front of all of those people cheering for him sent a surge of pride through me. Not that I’d helped him get to that point in any way, but I knew how much he dreamed of a moment like this, and because I still loved him the way I did, his happiness directly related to mine.
As the song came to a close, Everett bellowed into the microphone, “What the fuck is up, Los Angeles? Who’s ready to have some fun tonight?” which incited another round of roars and cheers.
He waited a bit for everyone to settle down then started talking again. “For those of you who are wondering who the hell we are, I’m Everett, and this is my twin sister, Ashlynn,” he grinned while pointing to her sitting behind the drum kit, “and together, we are Singed Wings.”
More yelling and shouting ensued; this time, I joined in. I couldn’t help myself. He was a natural up there.
“Oh, my God, he’s even hotter than his dad,” a teenaged girl standing next to me squealed. “What I wouldn’t give to get a piece of that fine ass!”
Somehow I refrained from growling, “Mine!” at her, even though he wasn’t really anymore… at least not yet. But God, I wanted him to be.
After the short introduction, the music started back up again — most of the songs I’d heard him play at my apartment before — and I found myself singing along and dancing, just as mesmerized as all the people around me, caught up in the gorgeous man before me and his captivating voice.