Chapter Fifty-Three
Maddox
I’ve sent her a message every day since we landed back home in LA. Nothing long or desperate, just something. A song, a post we’ve been tagged in, an image from the tour. All delivered. All left on read.
I stare at the screen, like maybe this time it’ll buzz with her name. It doesn’t. Even Beau hasn’t texted, and neither has Eli, which makes me think it went badly, or that she didn’t answer the door. Either way, I’m fucked.
Eight-thirty rolls across the screen, the countdown to the Instagram live approaching, and I keep reminding myself I’m fine. That this is no different from any other stream I’ve done.
But this isn’t some album drop or PR stunt. This is me playing like I’ve never done before. Just me, my guitar, and the words I can’t say to her in person. And I don’t even know if she’ll listen in the first place.
Pacing my living room for the tenth time already, I re-check my setup. Ring light, mic, laptop. Everything’s where it should be, but I look it over like I’m expecting something to happen between now and the last time I checked.
Or maybe I’m just looking for an excuse to back out.
My phone buzzes on the sofa, and I lunge for it, my fingers smacking the notification.
Beau
Saw her, she’s okay. Not great but not shattered.
Not gonna lie, I kind of expected her to slam the door in our faces. Thank fuck Olive was with us.
That tiny shred of hope inside me, the one I’ve been trying not to feed, stirs, just a little, dangerous and alive at the same time. I exhale, the breath leaving my lungs in a rush like I’ve been holding it in since our plane touched down at LAX.
Did she say anything?
Three dots bounce around the screen, stop, then reappear.
Beau
No. Mostly listened. I don’t think you’ve lost her. Not yet anyway.
I rub a hand over my jaw and sit down on the edge of the couch. My acoustic guitar rests against the back, tuned and ready to go.
Beau
Told her about the live. Olive says she’s going to make sure she’ll watch.
Tell her I say thanks.
I lower my head, my phone dangling between my legs, then it vibrates again.
Beau
For what it’s worth, I really am sorry.
I don’t reply. Instead, I flick over to the message thread with Paige, scrolling through them. Every unanswered one is a bruise, a painful reminder that I am close to losing her, and if this doesn’t work, I will for sure
Still, I send one more.
I know Beau told you about tonight. No pressure, but if you could join… I just need to know you’re okay.
The message sends, the swooping sound matching the whoosh of hornets erupting in my stomach.
I place the phone in the stand, check the positioning, and sit on the floor with my acoustic.
It’s old, the first one my grandma bought me after telling her I wanted to play guitar, one I didn’t want to touch again after she died, until I found something worth playing on it.
Or someone worth playing it for.
Nine o’clock hits, and I start the live. The counter begins to spike. 142 viewers, then 311, then 509, and growing rapidly. Comments flood the screen, but I don’t read a single one. The light in my apartment is low, and my voice is even lower as I look into the camera.
“Hey.”
One word and the chat explodes.
“I know it’s been a while since I’ve been on, and this isn’t some surprise new song or anything.” I swallow, my mouth dry. “This isn’t really a performance either.”
My fingers twitch against the strings, and I lean forward, adjusting the mic.
“It’s something I wrote recently. It’s never been played before, not even for the rest of the band.
” I pause, the weight of what I’m about to do pressing down on my chest. “It’s about someone I…
” I exhale, dropping my head back against the sofa.
“Well, it doesn’t matter, really. I just hope she’s watching. ”
I shift, straightening my spine, fingers moving to the correct position over the frets.
“And if she is… This is for her.”
The intro’s soft, the melody completely different on the acoustic versus the electric I usually play. It’s not perfect, but that’s the point. It’s bare and exposed, just voice and guitar.
You were the ghost I wasn’t ready to see
The weight of something I couldn’t set free
You called me out, cracked me open
Seen all the parts I thought were broken
The comments are flooding in fast and furious, but I don’t pay them any attention, closing my eyes instead and getting lost in the memory of her looking at me from across the drum kit.
With every beat, you were tearing down the past
But I built my walls higher to make the silence last
I hated that you saw me, hated how much I cared
But I never prepared for the ache when you weren’t there
My voice shakes as I reach the bridge, and I don’t care. I sing through it, reaching the part I didn’t think I’d be able to. Until now.
I thought if I kept you out, it would keep you safe
Thought if I said nothing, and took it to the grave
But the silence cuts deeper than lies ever could
You needed me gentle, I gave what I could
The screen blurs, and I blink the stinging sensation away from the back of my eyes.
I wouldn’t blame you if you turned the page
If you thought this was some kind of big mistake
But you gave me back what I thought was lost
The spark, the muse, no matter the cost
So if you’re still listening, if you’re still mine to lose
This is me, unfiltered, unfinished, always for you.