Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
DECLAN
Saturday night was spent writing lyrics until the pages became too bloody to read. My knuckles throbbed, and my hand ached from the tight grip I'd had on the pen, spending countless hours holding it in a tight fist as I knelt beside the bed, filling page after page with the dark thoughts that lived inside my head. Blood coated the white sheet beneath me, everything I touched becoming smeared with crimson.
Once I finished writing, I cleaned myself up, opting to shower and allow the hot water to wash away the monster in my mind. After I cleaned my knuckles, carefully removing shards of glass, I wrapped my hand in toilet paper until I could get to the front desk. Luckily, they had a first aid kid with everything I needed to bandage my hand.
I didn't bother telling them the bathroom mirror would need replacing. I figured when it came time to check out I'll let them know then and pay for the damage. However, I did ask for a change of sheets that I immediately put on my bed once I returned to my room, rolling up the bloodied sheets into a tight ball and shoving them into the trash can.
With clean sheets and a fresh mind, I climbed into bed and lay there restlessly for hours before finally falling asleep .
By seven a.m., I'm awake. My hand hurts like a bitch, but I deserve the pain. I'd rather feel a throbbing hand than nothing at all. Too many times, I've numbed myself, burying my emotions when they became too much because I was too weak to deal with the pain. Not anymore. I can't do that anymore.
Feeling any type of pain is inevitable, whether physical or emotional. Whatever it is, I welcome it because it's a reminder that I am alive.
I am fucking alive.
Cradling my bandaged right hand to my chest, I reach the nightstand with my left hand to grab my phone, bringing up my text thread with Adam.
Me
I'm ready to get back in the studio. I've got some new shit.
Adam is an early riser, so I'm not surprised when he texts back almost immediately. Sometimes, I wonder if he ever sleeps. There have been many nights when I've texted him at different hours, and his replies always come quickly.
Adam
Fuck yeah! I knew a change of scenery would be good. Whatcha got so far?
Me
I came up with two new songs last night. Working on a third.
Adam
Proud of you, man. I'll hit up Benny.
Me
I'll send you what I have.
Sitting up, I grab the black leather notebook I carry to jot down lyric inspiration whenever it hits and take pictures of the bloodied pages from last night, sending them to Adam .
My phone lights up five minutes later with an incoming FaceTime call from him. Rolling my eyes, I click the green button.
"What the fuck happened? I know you pour your soul into your writing, but what did you do? Try to cut out your heart?" My best friend's voice eases some of the aches in my chest. Out of my friends, Adam is the one I'm closest to. He is the only one who truly knows my darkest parts because he was there with me during those moments. He's the one I confided in when my addiction got worse and through all the shit Camille and I were going through. He knows it all and has never judged me.
"Nah, man, yesterday was rough," I confess, sighing at his green eyes studying me closely. "I met a girl, and she said some shit that fucked me up."
"Declan." Concern is evident in his tone. He rarely calls me by my name. "Don't worry about some chick. Your mental health and staying sober is what's important. Not some pussy who will end up becoming a crazy bitch when you inevitably kick her out of your bed."
I chuckle, shaking my head. "It's not like that, bro. She's not interested in me. We only met because of her kid."
His eyes widened at the mention of Max. "She has a kid? Abort mission. That's too messy. You're not staying in Logan-wherever the hell you are."
"Yeah, she said that. She doesn't want me around because…" I hesitate, my cheeks heating with embarrassment. "Because I'm an addict. She thinks I'd be a danger to her daughter."
Adam's eyes soften, but it's not a look of sympathy. He knows that I love kids and that being a father was the greatest gift I ever received. Despite my bullshit, I was the best fucking dad to Luca and always put him first. Up until the night I ruined everything, I’d never been high around him. Countless nights away on tour, new city, new bed every night. I was too fucking lonely being away from my family. Too much time on my own to think and send myself spiraling.
I'd always start with a drink and wouldn't stop until I was high out of my fucking mind. After each tour, I'd clean myself up and then return home. But the last tour before Luca died is what fucked me up the most, and I don't know why.
Our tour ended in the UK, and I stayed behind for two weeks to withdraw and get better, but I couldn't. By the time I went home, Camille and I were fighting nonstop, and all I craved was the carefree high that I'd experienced every day during the six-month tour.
The night Luca died, I'd caved and bought drugs in an alleyway outside of the restaurant where we were celebrating his fourth birthday.
After burying my son, I no longer felt the need to be sober. I spiraled every single fucking day until I hit rock bottom.
My wife cheated on me and then left me.
My friends were disappointed in me.
I hated myself.
Now, I'm fighting daily to prevent myself from falling that low again.
"You're a good man, Dec. If this chick will lead you to send me pictures of bloody pages, leave her alone. She's not worth it if she makes you do stupid shit."
"I think she's just as fucked up as me," I admit, remembering the way Andy looked at me when I confirmed her assumptions about me being an addict. The way her plump lips curled and her brown eyes narrowed will forever be engraved in my mind. She looked at me with disappointment. Like I was going to eventually be another person to let her down.
Andy doesn't strike me as someone who relies on anyone, but for some strange reason that I don't fucking understand, I want her to be able to depend on me. I want her trust. To give me the chance to prove her wrong.
Leaving her alone isn't something I want to do. Only after she's even given me a chance to prove myself.
"All I'm saying is be careful. Don't let this chick fuck-up the progress you're making." It's going to be hard as fuck to break down Andy's walls, and I shouldn't want to, but for some unknown reason, I do.
Perhaps it was the look in her eyes when we met. Beyond the scowl and sour looks is a vulnerable shy woman, that something tells me she's got more issues than I can fathom. Putting together the fucked up puzzle that is Andy isn't something I should want to do, but I'm unable to stop myself.
Did she say hurtful shit to me yesterday? Absofuckinglutely.
Am I going to forgive her for it? Not easily.
Do I want to see her again and force her to give me a chance? Yes.
Am I a dumb fuck for wanting these things? 100%.
Adam and I talk for a few more minutes, then end the call with me promising to send him any other songs I can come up with.
Leaning my back against the brick wall of the hotel, I bring the lit cigarette to my lips, inhaling the minty nicotine deep into my lungs.
Pushing off the wall, I keep the cigarette pinched between my lips as I walk along the sidewalk around the building.
One hand in my pocket, I keep my damaged knuckles close to my side, the broken skin itching. It wouldn't be the first time I've busted open my knuckles. Every time I do it, I swear it'll be the last time because the healing process sucks. Yet here we are.
At this point, my skin is going to be permanently scarred.
Kicking a rock with the toe of my Vans, I stop when I see a lone car parked in the empty lot. A gray Nissan Pathfinder, looking identical to Andy's. I was in the car yesterday, excited to get out of the hotel and spend time with someone other than my thoughts.
I'd been so fucking excited when she agreed to spend the day with me, but once we got to the park, she ruined it by opening her mouth. Not going to lie; it was embarrassing as fuck having her look at me with those judgmental eyes and her pretty mouth telling me it was only a matter of time until I relapsed.
For the first time in a while, I was so fucking excited, then she crushed me.
Adam is right. I should stay away from her, but my mind and body must not be communicating because suddenly, I'm walking toward the car, stomping out my cigarette as I go.
At first, I'm not sure it's hers, but as I get closer, it becomes clear.
Standing beside the driver's side, I peek into the car, eyes widening at the sight of Andy lying back in her seat, a small pink blanket across her chest, eyes closed, and long black eyelashes fanned across her cheeks.
What the fuck? Did she sleep in her car?
Gently tapping on the window to not startle her, I cup my hands around my eyes and peek into the backseat in search of Max. Her tiny body is visible, cuddled up with blankets and pillows.
I check the handle.
Locked.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
I knock again, brown eyes shoot open, lips parting as if she's gasping, but I can't hear it. Andy wipes her eyes, turns her head to the side to check on a sleeping Max, and then brings up the back of her chair. Stepping back, I allow Andy space to climb out of the car.
A light-red paints her heated cheeks with embarrassment, and her eyes look everywhere but at me as she wraps her arms around herself.
I take in the sight of her, noticing she's wearing the same clothes she wore yesterday.
Hoping to ease some of her embarrassment, I attempt a joke, "Stalking me, I see. Knew you were an obsessed fan."
Finally, her eyes meet mine, shock and appreciation filling her brown orbs. She's still embarrassed, but I'm unsure if it's just because I found her sleeping in her car or if she's also embarrassed about what she said yesterday.
Hopefully, it's both.
Shifting on my feet, I run my bandaged hand through my hair, catching her eyes and ending our silence.
"What happened to your hand?" she asks, her morning voice raspy and sexy as fuck.
I could make up an excuse, but why should I? "Didn't have a very good night." She continues staring at my hand, and then, slowly, her eyes met mine. This time, hers are full of remorse.
Good.
"Declan." She sighs, and my pants grow tight at the sound of my name on her lips. "I'm so fucking sorry," she whispers, her shoulders dropping. Her arms fall to her sides, defeat filling her face. "So fucking sorry. You didn't deserve that. My problems are mine, and I had no right saying that shit to you." I get the feeling that apologies are rare for Andy. She strikes me as the type of stubborn woman who'll justify anything to keep herself from muttering the words, I'm sorry.
I was once the same way, but through therapy, I've learned that apologizing isn't a sign of weakness. It's okay to admit when you're wrong.
"No, I didn't deserve that, Andy. Was pretty fucked up of you to say that shit considering you don't even know me."
She nods. "It was. Especially after you've done so much for me." What have I done for her? She must notice my confusion because, thankfully, she clarifies, "The gas and the food."
"That was nothing."
"It wasn't nothing," she states firmly. "No one has ever done anything like that for me before."
I'm both surprised and pissed that no one has ever done something so fucking simple for this girl.
"I ruined our day."
"Yeah, you did," I state, not willing to let her off the hook so quickly for the shit that happened yesterday. Six months ago, I would've kept my feelings to myself and pretended it was fine until one day, I blew up, admitting it wasn't okay. But I'm not that man anymore. At least, I'm trying not to be.
I'm trying to be better at communicating.
"Come to my room." She steps back, taken aback by my request.
"Why?"
"Because you slept in your car, and I'm sure you'd like to be able to change your clothes and brush your teeth." Wrapping her arms around her waist, she thinks momentarily before opening her mouth, agreeing quickly.
"Thank you. We won't be very long. We're moving into our new apartment today, so we'll be going to pick up the keys soon.
When she grabs Max's sleeping body from the car, I stop her and tell her I got her. Carefully, I pick up the small girl, holding her against my chest while Andy grabs a bag from the back of the car.
"Lead the way." She gestures, so I do.
Max stirs in my arms after we enter my hotel room, her brown eyes widening when she sees me holding her.
"Best friend?" She groans in equal confusion and excitement, unsure if she's still dreaming. Her small fists rub her eyes, a yawn leaving her little mouth.
"Good morning, Max." She smiles, throwing her arms around my neck and hugging me tight.
"You left me, best friend." She sniffles. "You never said bye." My heart aches. I never meant to allow my anger to impact her. I should've known she'd be left confused by my sudden departure.
"I'm sorry, Max. It won't happen again." She nods, and I set her down.
"Come on, baby. We'll use Declan's bathroom to get ready for the day and pick up our keys." That causes Max to jump and cheer with excitement.
"Best friend, you get to see my room!" She squeals.
Andy's quick to rain on her parade by saying, "He's not coming with us, Max."
"Actually," I interject before my new mini-best friend is ultimately defeated. "I don't have anything planned today. Do you need help moving in? I'm sure you have more stuff to move."
"Are you sure?"
"I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't." A small smile spreads across Andy's face, one that she tries to keep hidden but fails.
Goddamn, she's beautiful when she smiles. Wish she did it more often instead of scowling.
"That would be great. I don't deserve it after yesterday, but thank you." Nodding, I turn my attention to Max.
"Looks like I'll get to see your new room after all." While she cheers her way into the bathroom after announcing she has to go potty, I return my focus to Andy, standing directly in front of her so she's unable to look away from me this time.
"You owe me because of yesterday." She gulps but nods, the movement causing a stray curl to fall in front of her eyes. Without thinking, I raise my non-injured hand and brush the soft curl away, tucking it behind her ear.
"Get to know me, Andy," I whisper, keeping my fingers in her soft, dark hair. "Not the version of me you think you know from the media. The real me. Give me a chance to prove I'm not a total fuck-up."
"You're leaving in two months, Declan."
"I'm not asking for you to marry me. I'm asking you to put your guard down and allow yourself to get to know me. As a friend."
"As a friend?" she whispers, her voice warm against my lips from our closeness.
I nod. "As a friend. I think we could both use one right now."
"Okay."
Little did I know, her agreement would seal my fate.