I do love that about this song. They’re enraptured. Totally swept up in the story. No one makes a sound… in fact, I always wonder who’ll be the brave person to break the silence, and will it be applause, or a general scream, or maybe someone will shout actual words?
So when the song ends tonight, we all wait for someone in the audience to make the next move. Seconds go by. I’m taking breaths–shallow ones, because I’m in pretty serious pain–trying to compose myself and trying to forget about–
“I love you, Will!”
My eyes open immediately, but are still cast downward toward the stage.
I’ve never heard those exact words yelled in that exact manner before, but I have heard my name shouted just like that many times, in that voice, with that slight Minnesotan accent. I struggle to get enough oxygen in my system to keep up with my pounding heart. I feel Damon’s arm around my shoulders.
“She’s at four o’clock. Right in front of the stage. We’ll see you in the morning,” he shouts in my ear. It’s the only way I’d hear him over the now-boisterous crowd, because once Shea pronounced her love for me, so, too, did the rest of the audience.
Keeping my head low, I glance in that general direction and see her there, mascara trails streaming down her face and her hands covering her mouth. I’m sure it’s probably shocking for her to see me like this. My eyes locked with hers, I stare at her until the noise starts to die down. It’s my cue to leave the stage so the band can continue on with the concert.
“Let’s hear it one last time for Will Scott!” Damon says. “Looking forward to having him back with us full time next week.”
I stand up and feebly take a bow, directing the attention back to my best friend. I walk off the stage and wait for Alex to retrieve the barstool before approaching him. “Hey, man. There’s a beautiful woman on the front row that I need you to rescue from the crowd. She’s in a pale pink puffy coat and a black and white striped cap. You can’t miss her.”
“And what would you like me to do with her?”
“Bring her to me,” I tell him curiously.
“What if she doesn’t want to come?”
“Oh,” I say, laughing. I guess that’s a fair thing to assume. “That’s my estranged girlfriend. Shea? The one who walked out on me the other day? I’m pretty sure she’s here to see me.”
“Oh! That’s great! Yeah, I’ll be right back!”
Another stagehand carefully puts my guitar away for me as I pace around behind the curtain, waiting to catch another glimpse of her. The second I see her, I push past the pain and walk swiftly to hold her in my arms. I finish wiping the makeup from her cheeks, but my impatient mouth can’t wait to touch her glossy lips. I don’t even give her a chance to inspect my eye, which I can tell she was about to do with her outstretched fingers. They end up in my hair, grasping it as we steal each other’s air in the most corybantic kiss I’ve ever had. My desperation and gratitude have collided with the purity of my love for her. Definitely an overwhelming moment for me that leaves me panting even more than I normally do when we break apart.
I see worry in her eyes first, then remorse.
“What really happened to you?” She carefully drags the pad of her soft thumb over my stitches.
“If you’d stuck around just a few minutes longer, you could have seen Ben’s fighting skills.”
“You fought?” she asks.
“He kicked my ass. Knocked me down and proceeded to kick the shit out of me. I didn’t lay a hand on him.”
“Did you deserve it?” Her question is tentative, like she’s protecting herself from the answer.
“You don’t know?” She shakes her head. “You didn’t listen to my messages?” Again, she answers ‘no.’ I’m frustrated and disappointed–and then, in a way, I’m happy. It’s not like she heard my truth and considered it a lie. “Did you drive here?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve got a hotel room for the night. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want, but can you at least come back there to talk things out?”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Where have you been staying?” I ask her once we’re in the car.
“I drove home… and came back.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No. That night, I got a room at a hotel in Fort Morgan and slept for a couple of hours. But I just wanted to get home to my friends. To familiarity. Keyla was surprised to see me back, to say the least. When I told her what happened, I had her all riled up… and then she was pissed off to hear that I didn’t stick around to hear your side of the story.”
“Your roommate was actually on my side?” I ask her.
“Yeah. You can thank her for me being here. She talked some sense into me.”
Even though it hurts like hell, I sling one of her bags over my right shoulder and carry it into the hotel.
“You know,” I continue the conversation when we’re in my room, “no one would have needed to talk any sense into you had you stuck around for a few more minutes.”
“I’m sorry, Will.”
“That wasn’t fair, what you did.”
She sets her things down and stands up straight, surprised at my confrontation.
“Why don’t we back up a little,” she says. “Why don’t we start with what you did.”
“Did you delete my messages?”
“No. I just wanted to hear everything from your mouth. Face-to-face.”
“To see if I’m telling the truth?” She doesn’t respond. She just stares directly into my eyes, so I know my answer. “Okay. Remember the video you watched at my mom’s house? That night I was drunk in Chicago?”
“Yeah…” She shrugs out of her coat and removes her knitted cap. Her hair is messy beneath it, like she just woke up. The sight of her is so welcoming–such a distraction–that I wish there were a shorter version of this story that I could tell her that could cut right to her realizing how silly it was for her to walk out. I just want my lips on hers and my hands in her hair–to smooth it out or to mess it up more, I’m not sure. I have to look away from her to get back on track.
“This is what happened that caused me to drink that night. This was my one fucking slip-up on this tour. It was a little less than four weeks before I met you. And it happened about thirty minutes before Ben met Lola.”
“Look at me,” she demands.
I swallow and nod. She takes my inability to look her in the eye as dishonesty. “When I look at you, I see a woman I never thought I’d be lucky enough to get, and I want to hold on to her so she can never get away from me again,” I tell her openly. “I see a girl who robbed me of seventy-two-hours of flirting and kissing and touching and sex and the connection I’d been craving for weeks. I see you, Shea, and I want to fast-forward through this bullshit–because when all this is said and done, that’s all it is. What I did and how you reacted, it’s all bullshit. I want to skip right through all this and get back to the good stuff because I’ve had enough low days to last me quite a while.”
She doesn’t relent. “I have to hear it. I have to know.”
“Okay,” I tell her. “I need to sit down.” I walk over to the bed and rearrange five of the pillows against the headboard into the same pyramid I’ve been creating over the past few days. Slowly, I settle myself against them, and take a sixth, providing a place for my right arm to rest against my ribs. Shea takes a place at the end of the bed so we’re at eye-level. “It was after our show, and I needed to make a phone call. The place was too loud, so I went outside. One of the security guys offered to take me someplace private because there was a crowd of fans standing around in the parking lot. I followed him into this… massage place, I don’t know. Yeah, it seemed weird at the time, too, but I went in and made the call to my brother and Liv.
“When I was done, I was approached by her. By Lola. She’d been at the concert and wanted to show me a good time or something. I was weak. I was alone. No one was around to see me fail. I was
fucking weak and I said yes. It was a blow job, that was it.”
Shea closes her eyes for a few seconds. I wait for her to open them again before I continue.
“Completely one-sided. I didn’t return the favor, and she didn’t ask. She didn’t seem to want anything from me until we were done… and then she made some comment, like, when I was ready for more to call her or some shit like that, and she put her number in my phone.
“I never thought about it again. I left her and I went back to the venue where the guys were upstairs at an after-party. Just as I was settling in, the security guy showed up with Lola. She was one of a string of girls that they were introducing to us. Ben swooped in and took her to a private table. I was thankful that I wouldn’t have to be near her, but I was afraid she’d tell everyone what had happened between us. So I started drinking.
“When I woke up the next morning, I didn’t remember much… and the first person I saw was her. On our bus. She had stayed with Ben. Fucked him.” I laugh at the scenario now. “It was messed up. How was I ever supposed to make that situation right? I was fucked from the get-go.” I kick off my shoes to get more comfortable.
“Did you want something more from her?”
“Never.”
“Then why’d you keep her number?”
“I didn’t keep her number,” I tell Shea, frustrated that she’d even think that. “I didn’t remember that I even had her number. I voice dial everyone, or go through my recent calls. I can’t remember the last time I’ve scrolled through my fucking contacts. You can’t even begin to think that I would want anything to do with her, Shea. Why would I do anything to mess this up?”
“I don’t think you consciously would. I was just thinking; you know… that it was just so ingrained in you that you couldn’t help it.” She swallows hard, putting one of her hands on top of my right foot and sliding it back and forth gently. “You almost cheated on me that one night… the night you told me you loved me. You called me to tell me you wanted to.”
“There was unfinished business between us, Shea, and yeah, I felt strangely unsettled. Since that night–since I told you I love you–I haven’t felt like there are any loose ends. I haven’t felt like straying. And I know that I wouldn’t have cheated on you. As desperate as I was to get sleep, I know I would have had even more trouble had I been with another woman. That wasn’t the answer. And that’s all I was wanting. Sleep. Not companionship.”
Shea smiles at me. It’s subtle, but it touches her eyes, so I know she believes me.
“I’m sorry I left you, Will,” she says, taking off my socks and beginning to rub my feet. “In the moment, I felt like I was, uh… maybe too trusting of you? Ben made me feel that way. Like maybe you had more girls’ numbers in your phone, and it never occurred to me to check.”
“I don’t,” I tell her, wiggling my toes at her to show her my appreciation of her intimate gesture, “or, I didn’t. My phone was used as a missile to start our fight, and it didn’t survive. But the only girls’ numbers I ever had were yours and Liv’s and Mom’s and Emi’s and a few that I worked with. Of the girls I’d been with, Shea, I never wanted to keep in touch with any of them. Your number was the first I’d put in that phone. The only one.”
“It may sound insecure of me, Will, but I don’t like the idea of you being around her anymore. I don’t care if Ben’s always there–”
“I’ll just stop you now. That guy who came to get you from the audience? That’s Alex. Ben’s replacement. Ben was fired on the spot.”
“Are you kidding?”
“No. I’ve been out of commission all week. And Damon and the guys saw the whole fight. They’d just pulled up in a cab–thankfully. Who knows what condition I’d be in if they hadn’t. I blacked out when they reached us.”
“So what’s with the pillows? Do you have to sit upright for your eye?”
I shake my head and lift my shirts to show her my torso. She starts to cry when she sees the purple and yellow bruises that cover the entire right side of my body. “Oh, my God… oh, my God, Will, I am so sorry. I should have stayed with you.” She scoots toward me and takes my shirts from me, continuing to examine the damage.
I laugh at her statement. “Would you have protected me?”
“Fuck, yes, I would have!” When she blinks, tears escape her eyes.
“You don’t believe in fighting…” I rub her forearm.
“I believe in self-defense! There’s a difference…”
“Well, shit, now you tell me,” I tease her.
“Wait, you didn’t not fight because of me, right?”
“No. I didn’t fight because he caught me off-guard. I appreciate your wishes, but I believe in self-defense, too.”
“What else did he do?”
“He kicked me in the head, too, but there don’t seem to be any changes in brain activity. I’m still constantly thinking, constantly trying to solve things… still unable to solve the unsolvable problems, damn it. There was some ringing in my ear the first night, but that hasn’t come back.”
“Anything else? Aside from damaging your pride?”
“Fuck, I’m not that proud. He’s a coward for resorting to violence over something as stupid as this. As far as I’m concerned, he was always jealous of me… and him finding out that his girlfriend had… you know… that had to sting. Had to be about the worst thing for him to hear, and I’m sure it made no difference to him whether or not it happened before or after he’d met her.
“That had to hurt his pride. And for me to have that knowledge all this time… I’m guessing that was a little humiliating for him.”
“Still, you didn’t deserve this.”
“No, I didn’t even deserve a flick on the wrist.” Shea positions herself on her knees and forearms and plants gentle, wet kisses along my ribcage. I hold my shirts up and close my eyes, feeling comforted in a way I’d wanted to be days ago. I switch hands so I can play with her hair and massage her neck; somehow returning the acts of kindness and affection.
“What if we just took your shirts off?” she asks just a few seconds into it.
“We can do that…” She sits up and unbuttons my top shirt and slides it off my arms. “Careful,” I caution her on the t-shirt I’m wearing underneath, raising my arms slowly. After both shirts are out of the way, she returns to her previous position. I keep my eyes open, now having no obstructions in seeing the way she cares for me, so I see when her right hand creeps up my thigh and finds its place in between my legs. Just as she starts pressing her palm against me, I feel her tongue begin to explore beyond the bruises of my torso. “Oh, man…” I clench a fistful of her hair in my right hand, a completely involuntary response to my arousal.
“I apparently have seventy-two-hours to make up for,” she says softly.
“Uhhh… to be clear, I am probably in no shape for seventy-two-hours worth of physical activity.”
“You’re clearly in shape for some,” she says, running her fingers down the length of me. “I won’t hurt you.”
I stop her from kissing and touching me, attempting to pull her to me, but the pain on my right side makes it impossible. “Come here,” I tell her.
She kneels up at eye-level. “Where?”
“That’s good.” I am able to put my hand on the back of her neck and bring her head to mine for a kiss. It’s controlled and safe and sweet–on purpose. “You already did hurt me, Shea,” I tell her. “I want to make sure you know that.”
“I–” I interrupt her with another kiss, just like the last one.
“I forgive you because I love you, and I have no choice but to do that… but I want you to tell me that you know I’m committed to you.”
“I know you’re committed to me.”
“That you know I won’t cheat on you.”
“I know you won’t cheat on me.”
“That you know I love you.”
“I know you love me, Will. And I love you.”
I smile at her. “A
nd I want you to promise me you will always hear me out in the future.”
“I promise you, with every cell in my body, that I will always hear you out. I promise that I won’t walk out on you. That I won’t leave you behind like I don’t care, because all I did from the second I drove away until the moment I saw you again was worry about what would become of you. I kept wondering if I would be the only woman who’d ever get to know this amazing man–this boyfriend, this generous lover–because you’d go back to being that hurt little boy who would never trust another girl. I couldn’t be the woman who returned you to that state.
“I want you to have a happy life, Will. I want that so badly for you. I promise I won’t hurt you. It won’t be me. I won’t let it be me.”
She’s crying again, and if I’m honest, she’s taking me with her. I kiss her. This time it’s not controlled. It’s not sweet. It’s not safe, and it hurts like hell because I’m putting my whole self into it and I’m giving her all the oxygen my body so desperately needs, but I don’t care. “Don’t love me because you pity me,” I tell her between breaths, but return to her quickly, scared to hear her response because the more I give her, the more I need her.
She tries to push me away to respond, but I hold her close. It’s not until she says the word–“No”–that I let her go.
“No, Will. I love you simply because I know you. And anyone lucky enough to get close to you would love you. Anyone. There is not one unlovable thing about you.”
“I can think of many.”
“If you’re counting the women of your past, they are not you. Stop dwelling on the mistakes you’ve made and look at who you are.” She moves one leg over both of mine and puts one of her hands on each of my cheeks, angling my face to look at her directly. “You’re a logical man,” she whispers. “You’ve fought through adversity to be one of the world’s youngest and most well-known astrophysicists… people are begging you to get your PhD so you can continue on in their programs. You’re the best guitarist in the country–don’t argue with me, I found an article online that said so–and you taught yourself how to play. You’re brilliant… so that’s, what, best of the best in the arts and sciences? All done with a father figure who was four years older than you and a mother who wasn’t there for you when you needed her. And then a few years later, you’re touring the country, this drop-dead gorgeous man with humility and social skills that don’t normally accompany the science-nerd-crowd, and you literally charm the pants off some chick in Minneapolis who’s just trying to live a normal life. And you manage to reach within the depths of your soul and tap into love–”