31. Save Me – Riggins
Usually, talking to my sister helps to ease my worries, but for the first time since I can remember, it’s not working. The guys are out at press events, and I stayed behind. We’re at the tail end of the tour before it starts back up in March. Two nights ago, we celebrated the tour almost being done and my 20th birthday, and for the first time since I joined, I resented this tour.
And what it’s doing to Riggins.
“You should talk to him, Stell. No one has ever been able to get through to him like you,” my sister says.
I just finished finally confessing everything I’ve been feeling. I love everything about being on tour with Riggins and the guys. It’s everything I daydreamed about for what feels like my entire life, but I’ve never once gone so long without seeing my twin.
When she went to college just two hours from home, she came home once a month, at the very least, and we’d snuggle in bed together, giggling like we were ten in our childhood room, then later in Riggins and my apartment.
But now, when she comes home, I’m somewhere else, across the country
It hurts not having her. Riggins might be my other half, but Evie is my soul.
So every few days, I sneak off to peace and quiet while the boys go out wreaking havoc or practicing or doing some kind of press stop and call Evie, filling her in on everything that’s been happening.
Unfortunately, being on tour has shown me some of the darker sides of our dreams, including Riggins’ growing obsession with drinking at all hours of the day. We wake, and before I even get ready for the day, he’s holding a beer. By the time their shows end, he’s stumbling off stage, and he isn’t stopping there.
It was fun at first, drinking and partying with the band, and random celebrities and musicians came to hang out and get wild, but now I’m concerned. Alcoholism runs in his family, even if he refuses to acknowledge his father, and it looks like he’s following the same path.
“It’s just, I’ve seen his dad. You know how he completely spiraled after Jeanette died. He’s drinking himself into an early grave, and I’m worried Riggs is right behind him.”
Before Evie can respond, I hear it.
“Are you talking to your sister about me?” Riggins’ voice booms. I didn’t even hear him coming onto the bus, but now he’s standing over me, anger clear on his face.
“Hey, Evie, I gotta go,” I say, not even waiting for a response before I end the call and toss the phone on the sofa. It vibrates with a text almost instantly, but I leave it where it lies, standing and reaching for Riggins.
When he steps back, just out of my reach, dread curls in the pit of my stomach, dark and ominous.
“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.
“He yelled at you?”
“Well, not like…” I almost say he didn’t scare me, that it wasn’t mean, but that’s not the truth, is it? It was mean. It did scare me.
“He was just frustrated,” I try to justify.
“No, he was fucking mad someone finally called him out for his bullshit,” Beckett says.
“What did he say, Stella?” I roll my lips into my mouth, unsure if I should say anything, if I should share this, but this is his band. His best friends. And despite everything, even if he really truly does want me gone and thinks I’m not fit for this life. I want him to be happy and healthy.
I do think he needs help.
“It really doesn’t matter, you guys. It’s no big. I think.. maybe I should just let him enjoy the road, head home, and see you guys when it’s over.” Beck’s arms get tight, and honestly, I’m a little reticent to look up at Reed with the sudden violence cracking in the room. Those two weeks would be the most miserable ones of my life, after living this life I fucking love, despite the partying, after being with Riggins like this, after being out of Ashford and away from my mother… “And he might be right, I’m technically underage, and you all?—”
“None of us wake up first thing in the morning and crack open a beer, Stell, and just a reminder, Riggins is the youngest in this fucking band,” Beckett says.
I did know that. I did. I just…
“What did he say, Stella?” Wes asks, his voice firm, and I know there’s no avoiding this.
“He said if this was too much for me, I should go home and that he’s just enjoying himself. And again, he’s not technically wrong, I?—”
But there’s no one here to reason with anymore.
With those words, Beck sets me aside, and then he is out the door of the bus, Reed and Wes following, calling his name.
I just sit there, unsure of what to do, but a sinking sadness seeps into my chest that makes it nearly impossible to leave this spot.
Instead, I lay down where I am, cry a bit more, and fall asleep without making any real decisions.
“Little star, wake up,” a low voice says. It’s a familiar voice, a comforting one, a voice I love. Even though there’s heavy waters lapping at me, telling me to stay asleep where it’s warm and safe and easy, I crack an eye open.
I’m still lying on the couch on my side, but there’s a blanket pulled over me now, up to my shoulders. It’s dark in the bus, but my eyes are locked on Riggins, his face illuminated by a low light coming in through the window behind us.
“Riggins?”
“Hey, baby,” he whispers, then moves his hand, pushing my hair back. It feels good, like he’s pushing off the drowsiness and the sadness that was swallowing me whole. I turn my face into his hand, and he cups my cheek there.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. My eyes open a bit more, then my brows furrow in confusion, trying to remember, to understand…
We had a fight. Our first fight ever.
The memory wakes me up fully, the warmth of his hand unable to fight back the chill as I sit up. It all comes back. Talking to Evie, Riggs hearing, him yelling at me, telling me to go home. Beck and Reed coming, Beck storming out and Reed following…
It’s then I see it.
The giant shiner on Riggs’ eye.
“Oh, my god, Riggins?—”
“Looks worse than it feels, I promise,” he says with a smile. “Come on.” He holds his hand out for me to take.
“Riggins, we need to talk,” I say because we do. So badly. I shouldn’t have buried my concerns, but I should have talked to him about it sooner so he wouldn’t feel like I was ambushing him.
“I know, and we will. Just... come with me, Stell. Please.”
I’ve never been able to say no to him, not since we were five and he dared me to touch a frog in his backyard and I did it just because he gave me that look. Even then, I thought it was worth doing what he asked for that look, even if Evie totally tattled on me and got me in wild amounts of trouble for not being ladylike.
So I grab his hand, slide on a pair of shoes, and walk out of the bus with him. We’re in Colorado, parked outside a large hotel chain in the middle of nowhere. According to Don, the bus driver, we’re staying outside city limits both because it’s the cheapest option for the label and because even though they’re relatively new, the boys are getting popular. There’s less of a chance of being ambushed by fans here, which I’m super grateful for, all things considered.
“Where are we going?” I ask as the warm summer night air wraps around my arms.
“Just be patient, little star,” he says, the familiar words wrapping around me the way they always do, chasing out the last of the cold, watery chill that my bones had been soaking in all day. We walk around the building to a grass field, a tall man standing near some dim lights.
“Who’s that?” I ask.
“Reed.” We slowly approach him, my belly churning and not even bothering to ask where Beck is, knowing somewhere in my belly that he gave Riggins that painful-looking black eye. Wes is probably off hiding somewhere as is his way.
As we approach, it’s pushed from my mind as I watch Reed start to struggle more with something in his arms.
A…
A wiggling ball of fur.
“What is that?” I whisper.
“Yours,” Riggins says as we get slower and the ball of fur turns into a dog before my eyes. A puppy.
“Mine?”
“Yeah,” he says, and I reach out to touch the puppy, but before I even can, she’s jumping into my arms. I catch her, but just barely.
“Oh my god!” I squeal as she starts licking my face excitedly. “Oh my god!”
Riggins knows I’ve wanted a puppy since I was a kid, putting it on my Christmas list every single year even though my mother adamantly refused because dogs are disgusting.
“She’s a German Shepherd. She’ll be pretty big, eventually,” Riggins says from behind me, his hand on my waist.
“She’s precious,” I murmur, burying my face in her fur for a moment before moving to look at Riggins and smiling. I also note Reed has at some point disappeared.
It’s then I notice the rest of the area, a big blanket on the ground with candles lit all around, a guitar, a bag.
“What is this?” I ask, giggling as the dog nips at my ear.
“You can let her down,” Riggs says. “There’s a leash and a post in the ground.”
“What?” Nothing makes sense right now, and for a moment, I wonder if I’m still asleep.
“Put her down, Stell,” Riggins says, voice serious.
Suddenly, I’m anxious.
Suddenly, I’m remembering everything that happened this afternoon, remembering the look in Riggins’ eyes, the anger on Wes and Reeds’ faces.
“Put her down,” he repeats in a lower whisper.
“Riggins,” I say, but do as he asks, bending a bit, hooking the leash to the stake in the ground as I put down the dog.
“Stella,” he whispers, hooking an arm around my waist and pulling me into him. My arms go around his neck on instinct, my body trained to move to him like a sunflower, tipping my head up as I do. “I fucked up,” he says.
My instinct is to tell him it’s fine, that it wasn’t a big deal. He’s under a lot of pressure, and he’s right; I am underage, and maybe it’s my fault, but I fight that urge.
“I’ve been overwhelmed. It’s a lot, being on tour. The pressure to be this….” He sighs and then looks up at the stars as if the answers will be written there. “Great musician, and I’m just… I’m just me. I don”t know what I’m doing. You’re right—the guys are right. I’m going too far. I’m drinking too much, I’m having too much fun?—”
I open my mouth to argue, but he shakes his head and corrects himself. “No, that’s not fair. I can have fun without drinking as soon as I wake up. I can have fun without getting blackout drunk every night.”
Relief washes through me. I move a hand, brushing his hair back. “That’s all I was trying to say, Riggins. And in my defense, not that I think I need it?—”
“You don’t, Stell, you don’t need to defend yourself. You did nothing wrong.”
“I was just saying, I vent to Evie about everything. You know that. Something enters my brain, and if it feels uncomfortable. I call her up and talk it out with her.”
“I know. And I love that you have that. I also want to be that for you, though. I want you to feel safe coming to me, talking to me about anything. Everything. Even if you think it will be something I don’t want to hear. “
“I just…” He shifts, so I have no choice but to look at him, his features filling my entire line of vision, and his face is so serious.
“Stella Hart, you’re my person. Evie can be yours, and I’ll share that honor with her until the day I die, but you’re mine. You’re it for me. You’ve always been it for me. I was already thinking about the things I heard you say to Evie. They were already rattling around in my mind, and that’s why it threw me off. It was a confirmation of my biggest fears.”
“Your biggest fears?” I ask, confused and worried at the dread in his eyes.
“I’m terrified I’m going to fuck up so big, so badly, you’re going to run one day. You’re going to realize your mom was right, that you can do so much better than me, that you deserve more.”
“Riggins…” I start, ready to tell him all the reasons I love him and need him.
“I can’t lose you, Stella. I…” His head tips up again, and in the low light of the stars, I can see the glistening of his eyes. “I can’t lose you. I’ve seen what happens when you lose your person, your reason for living.”
“Riggins—” I start, the panic filling me because I can’t be his reason for living. I’d absolutely fold under the pressure of that. But then his hand moves, fumbling into his pocket and pulling out a ring that he holds between us. My heartbeat skyrockets.
“Riggins…” I say again, but it sounds different this time.
“I love you, Stella,” he whispers. “I love you more than all the stars in the sky, Stella. You are my star, my sun. I wouldn’t survive this world without you, and I never want to find out what life is like without you.” The ring in his fingers glints gently in the starlight, but my eyes are locked on Riggins.
“I want you to be mine forever, Stella. I want to lay under the stars with you, write songs, and explore the world with you. I want to go to Maine and look at the stars there, and I want to make all of your crazy dreams come true. I want to raise our kids in Ashford and let Mrs. Montgomery tell them she always had to yell at their parents because they talked in the halls too much, that she always knew we’d be together.” I choke out a laugh, and that’s when I realize I’m crying.
“This isn’t an engagement ring. You deserve more from a proposal than an apology after our first real fight. You deserve the moon, Stella. It’s just a promise ring. It’s me begging you to give me another chance, to forgive me, to give me time to plan your real proposal.” His lips turn up in a smile, and I can’t help but return it. “This is me begging you to forgive me.”
I let myself think about it for just a moment, but it’s useless.
I know what I’m going to say.
I’ve been irrevocably in love with Riggins Greene since I was five and I realized I had a crush on him. Fell further when I was ten and he punched Timmy Stewart for saying my pigtails were dumb looking, and I kept falling when I held his hand at his mother’s funeral.
I knew he was it for me when we snuck out to sit under the stars, the first song we wrote together. I”ve known since he left to chase his dreams, and mostly, when he came back and told me his dreams were nothing without me.
I’ve always wanted Riggins to be mine, and I’ve always wanted to be his.
So there’s no choice but to smile dreamily and nod. And when he stands, slides the thin promise ring band on my finger that I don’t bother to look at—it could be the ugliest, least me thing on the whole planet, and I’d have accepted it—then kisses me, dipping low as I giggle, the band cheering in the background.
I didn’t even realize he never made promises about changing his lifestyle until it was much, much too late.