Reverse (Bittersweet Symphony Duet #2)

SIXTY-FIVE “From Can to Can’t”

SIXTY-FIVE

“From Can to Can’t”

Corey Taylor, Dave Grohl, Rick Nielsen, Scott Reeder

Easton

M om begins to run full throttle toward Dad just as our golf cart rounds the curve that leads back to our dressing room. I don’t miss the reddening of his eyes just before he exits and stalks towards her. She jumps into his waiting arms and showers him with kisses, tears lining her cheeks as he lifts her from her feet, arms locked around her possessively. Their murmurs echo throughout the hall as they console each other with shaky words and devotion-soaked expressions.

My own eyes burn and sting with the knowledge my father’s career has just ended. The finality is sealed with a kiss by the woman who jumpstarted it and spent her life watching it unfold by his side.

Briefly, I see a glimpse of them, younger, colliding the same way all those years ago, and in a cruel twist, an image of Natalie wrapped around me takes its place.

“I’ve been faithful.”

I had a chance of having that. Of what they have. With her.

I can now say that I loved a woman with every fiber of my being, heart and soul, and always will. I can claim that. I wonder how many souls can’t.

Knowing that—the gift and rarity of it—all I want right now is the ability to stop the oxygen flow, to cease the reminder pumping in my chest, because the beat feels unnatural now.

The high of playing for an audience that size rapidly dissipates as I stand back, watching those around me embrace in melancholic-laced celebration. Emotions riding high, pieces of me rattle and begin to dismantle inside my skin. For the first time in a very long time, I feel underlying darkness threaten to overtake me.

“I’ve been faithful.”

Knowing she might be here today, even knowing who for had amped my anticipation in coming and revived some lingering hope. Every bit of that hope evaporated when I saw her wearing his number—literally wrapped in his fucking name—in his arms and kissing him. That image continually resurfaces, stoking the notion I might have given so much of my love—of myself in vain. I should be riding one of the greatest highs of my life, but it feels more like a white-hot burn raging inside of me during a moment I need to be present. A moment my dad’s been working toward most of his life.

“I know you’re upset, but it can’t be tonight. This night is monumental for him.”

“Jesus Christ,” I breathe, knuckling my chest, fully absorbing the depth of her plea to me the night we split. Nothing could have kept me away from being here for my parents tonight. Nothing.

Dad gently sets Mom on her feet, her beaming smile lighting up the hall before she turns, eyes searching for and finding me before she makes a beeline my way. It’s all I can do to maintain my grin as she rushes me and pulls me to her. My insides start to come apart as she murmurs her praises. “No words, baby. No adequate words will do. You just made history. That was the best surprise of my life.”

“It was Dad’s idea.”

“You both got me good.” She pulls away and palms my jaw. “There’s not a soul alive who can deny your talent now. Get ready, son. There’s no stopping this train,” she says with surety.

“Thanks, Mom,” I utter softly as my ability to keep the burn at bay falters while pieces of me begin to ignite—Natalie’s parting shot setting each one of them alight.

“I’ve been faithful.”

My wife should have been here. She should be here now, finally taking full claim to the name I gave her, along with her rightful place by my side.

I’ve given her no reason to be here, not after what I said. I pushed her too far. Even as she confessed that she was miserable, I’d laid into her with all the anger I felt—that I still feel. She did forsake me, us . She allowed her guilt to overrule what we had. I put us first, and she martyred us.

Because of that, I let the monster take over and speak on my behalf, making it clear I would never forgive her. I made the notion of there being a future for us an impossibility and slammed the door. I probably just pushed her into the decision of moving on, whether it be with the fucking quarterback I shook hands with or someone else.

Even with some of my animosity justified, the burn doesn’t lessen.

I told her she was a fucking stain because I couldn’t see anything other than another man’s kiss fresh on her lips. So, why

would she be here?

“Motherfucker,” I wheeze as I try to grapple with the fallout, finding no relief in any of my justifications.

I love her. Justifiable anymore or not, I love her.

Desperate to douse the overpowering and debilitating loss, I search for distraction and spot Ben, Rye, Adam, and Lucia pulling up in the cart behind ours.

Benji appears and yanks me into his embrace with Lexi on his heels.

“That was fucking . . . just incredible, brother,” Benji claps me on the back, rare emotion heavy in his voice before Lexi pulls me to her, her face littered by mascara streaks when she pulls away. The chatter in the hall continues as the moment is celebrated by all with heartfelt sentiments and long embraces.

“I’m not a rock star anymore.” The emotional declaration cuts through the chatter.

A palpable stillness fills the air as every head turns to the source of the disruption where Ben sits in the cart, his eyes zeroed in on Lexi. Mom releases Lexi from her hold as she turns to face Ben while he slowly exits the cart, eyes shimmering but intent. “Do you hear me, Lexi?” He rasps out hoarsely. “I’m not a rock star anymore . . .”

We all wait with bated breath as Ben stills, lowering his head as if pulling together the words he’s waited a lifetime to say. When he lifts his eyes, his emotions spill over. “Now all I am,” he swallows, “is the boy you fell in love with, who turned into the man you had a baby with.”

Lexi’s lips part in shock as the two face off. We all inch back as Ben rings out another declaration. “The man who’s loved you with the whole of his heart, year after year, through Every. Single. Thing. Even when you broke it, even when I begged it to stop, tried to force it, willed it to, ignored it. It never failed you, it never stopped loving you, and it never will. I think it’s past time I let it, and you let me love you with it, for good .”

“Ben,” Lexi gasps as her eyes flood, and Ben stalks toward her before cupping her face. “It’s just us now, baby. You and me. It’s our time, Lexi. It’s time.”

“I love you, too,” Lexi confesses, gripping his wrists as he searches her eyes, “so much. Always will.” A strangled noise sounds from next to me, and I look over to see Benji utterly entranced by his parents’ interaction, a tear coasting down his jaw, hands fisted at his sides.

Ben continues to gaze down at Lexi with unguarded affection, the world around him forgotten as he swipes every tear she’s shedding with gentle thumbs. “Come home with me?”

Elated, Lexi replies with a repeated, “Yes, yes, yes,” before Ben kisses her soundly. Next to me, I feel the second Benji cracks as a sledgehammer is taken to his impenetrable wall of beliefs. His incredulous eyes follow their every movement as Ben turns back to Benji, telling him they’ll be back. With the slight dip of Benji’s chin, they disappear down the hall, plastered to each other’s sides.

Rye and Adam trail their escape before looking back toward the rest of us with astonished faces. True to his nature, Adam speaks up, tossing a thumb over his shoulder. “Someone, please tell me that just happened, and the mushrooms haven’t kicked in yet.”

Everyone bursts into raucous laughter, aside from Benji and me. Unable to take another second, I head toward the dressing room for a moment to myself. Rian stalks past me toward Benji, concern marring her features. Closing the door, I stand in utter disarray before heading straight toward a dark bottle. Uncapping it, I toss back a few shots, thankful for the short time I stole for myself to try and get my shit together. Visions of my wifeless future flit before my eyes as I tip more of the bottle back in an attempt to blur them out.

Not long after the liquor begins to circulate, I hear the click of the dressing room door and feel his presence behind me as I rummage through my duffle and speak up. “I need a minute alone, G.”

“She didn’t file, Easton. I told you that months ago.”

His statement stokes the fire which begins to consume me wholly.

“And I told you I already knew that,” I snarl before taking another swallow of Jack.

“How?”

“Because I know my wife,” I say.

“What happened in that bathroom?” he asks, circling the couch to get a read on me. “What did you say to her?”

“I just shared a career-high many don’t get,” I grit out, pulling off my shirt and wiping the sweat off. “So, back the fuck off.”

“It’s been months, and you’re still bleeding out. I told you not to go after her that amped up. What did you do, Easton?”

“What any man would do when he sees his wife put her lips on another man . . . I behaved badly .”

“Jesus,” he drags his hands through his hair. “You’re destroying yourself.”

“What the fuck do you care?” I pull on another shirt, still holding tight to the bottle. “I thought you’d be relieved.”

I glance over to see a rare streak of fear in his eyes.

“What, Benji, what ?”

“The night of the gala, I told you I told her to fuck off and leave you alone.”

Bottle already halfway to my mouth, I draw my brows. “Yeah, you told me, so?”

“I was vicious. She called me for help, and I was in a bad place. I told her to make up her mind, and if it wasn’t you—if she couldn’t choose you, then and there, if she couldn’t be what you needed, what you deserved, to stop answering your calls, to let you go.”

“Exactly, G, and where is she?” I tilt my head. “Beauty, you here ?” I scoff, lifting the bottle. Benji snatches the Jack from my hand and blatantly drops it at our feet. The shattered bottle leaks my temporary salvation between us as I glare at him. “I’m about two seconds from throwing another right, the same way I did the first time you came clean.”

“As much good as it did. Fucking listen to me,” Benji barks. “I was vicious with her to the point I might have pushed her into ending it with you.”

“Don’t credit yourself so much, asshole. She’s got a mind of her own and a bite much harsher than yours. Case in point, she showed up here on a fucking date . You’re off the hook.” The truth of that is the hardest part to swallow. “We’re over. That’s what happened in the bathroom. Your dad just ended his career. Go be there for him .”

“He’s not the one that needs me,” Benji declares.

Every cell in my body aches as I finally allow myself to acknowledge how much love ricocheted between us in that bathroom, even as my fury overshadowed it. It is still there, just as powerful—the draw, the need, the goddamn breath-stealing ache.

“I’ve been faithful.”

“She’s probably still here,” Benji tries to encourage.

“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head. Because I just tarnished something beautiful, and she stepped back helplessly and watched me do it. “I told you to stay the hell out of my personal life. I remember that part of the conversation well .”

“Listen to me, man. Just try and get your bearings. She’s still here, and you can catch her before this goes any further.”

“And do what, exactly? Pledge my love and loyalty? I did when I married her. Try to be the husband she needs? She hid herself, her struggles from me. Beg her to see what we stand to lose, if we continue on that way? Did that, too.” I glare at him, spitting all the venom I feel. “What the fuck is this? Because your parents are finally on the same page, after decades of being at odds, now you’re a love enthusiast? I don’t want that fucking fate, and that’s exactly why we’re over. No, thank you.”

“You saw what I saw,” he digs in further. “Step back, please, East, and take a good look at what you’re doing. That’s all I’m asking.”

Panic seizes me, and even as I fight it, realization overtakes me that if I had a chance in hell of reclaiming the other half of my soul, I just sabotaged it with jealousy and pushed her into another man’s arms. Fully aware that even if it doesn’t happen tonight, it probably will in the future—which is the most excruciating kind of hell.

“I was unimaginably cruel,” I whisper in broken admission.

“I’m so sorry, man. But if there’s a chance to fix it, then you should try.”

“Yeah, well, how about I take your advice when you apply it yourself .”

He shakes his head in frustration as Joel walks in, no doubt leaving the seats we secured for his family to congratulate me. The grin on his face dims considerably as he reads the tension in the room. Benji lifts his chin to Joel in acknowledgment as I pull my cell from my duffle to see endless notifications coming in. One notification in particular has my boiling blood turning to ice in my veins. I look up to Benji before opening it and know without a shadow of a doubt what I’ll find when I do. “Doesn’t matter who filed,” I lift the phone for Benji to see. “She just signed the papers.”

Turning it back toward me, it’s when I note the witness signature, signed by Nate himself, that I allow the darkness to consume me.