30. Jarron
30
JARRON
M y head pounds like someone's using it for band practice. Something heavy lands on my bed, and I groan into my pillow.
"Get up, get up, get up!" Beau's voice booms above me. "Santa came!"
"I'm gonna fucking kill you." I pull the blanket over my head, but his massive hands grab it and yank it away. "What time is it?"
"Seven thirty! Come on, there's presents!"
The excitement in his voice reminds me of when I was a kid, and mama would wake me up exactly like this every Christmas morning. Granted it's been him the last couple Christmases on this tin can we call home.
"I swear to God, if you start jumping on my bed-"
The whole bus rocks as he does exactly that. "Then what?"
"Then I'm puking on your boots." My stomach lurches with each bounce. "I mean it, man."
"Here." Something cold touches my forehead. I crack open an eye to see Quinn holding out a bottle of Gatorade and some Advil. "Thought you might need these."
Fragments of last night flash through my mind - her lips on mine, the alley, her helping me back to the bus. Heat creeps up my neck.
"Thanks," I mutter, not meeting her eyes.
"If you don't get up in the next thirty seconds," Beau warns, "I'm getting the air horn."
"You wouldn't dare."
He reaches for his duffle bag.
"Fine! Jesus." I swing my legs over the side of the bed, instantly regretting the sudden movement. "Happy?"
"Very." Beau grabs my arm and hauls me to my feet. "Now come on, I wanna see what Santa brought me."
"You're literally a child trapped in a giant's body," I grumble, but let him drag me toward the front of the bus where everyone else is already gathered around our sad little Christmas tree.
Lyle tosses a box at my head that I barely catch. "Here's your present, jackass."
"Real thoughtful wrapping job." I tear off the newspaper he's clearly stolen from the hotel lobby.
"Open mine next!" Beau shoves another package into my lap before I can even finish with the first one.
I pull out what looks like a miniature version of myself - a bobblehead wearing my signature tight t-shirt and cocky smirk. "Really?"
"Turn it over," Lyle says, grinning.
On the base, someone's written 'World's Biggest Drama Queen' in permanent marker. "Y'all are hilarious."
"Wait till you see what's in mine," Beau practically bounces in his seat.
Inside his box is a self-help book titled 'How to Stop Being an Asshole in 10 Easy Steps.'
"I marked the important chapters," he says innocently.
Austen's doubled over laughing as I flip through pages covered in fluorescent highlighter. "Look, he even made notes in the margins!"
"Step one," I read aloud, "Stop sleeping with everything that moves."
Quinn chokes on her coffee.
I toss my gifts at them - a pair of noise-canceling headphones for Beau ("So you don't have to hear me bringing girls back"), a pack of condoms for Austen ("Since you keep stealing mine"), and for Lyle, a shirt that says 'WWDD What Would Dolly Do' across the chest.
"Real cute," Lyle says, but he's already pulling it on over his t-shirt.
"At least I wrapped mine," I point out, gesturing to the actual Christmas paper.
"With duct tape," Quinn observes.
"It's festive duct tape. See? It's got little snowmen on it."
Quinn reaches under the tree and starts pulling out small packages wrapped in brown paper with twine. "I know it's not much, but..."
"You didn't have to get us anything," Lyle protests, but he's already tearing into his.
"Holy shit," he breathes, pulling out a set of drumsticks. "Is this..."
"The new mahogany ones you were looking at the other day," Quinn says softly.
Beau's gift is next - a rare vinyl record he's been hunting for months. Austen gets a vintage guitar pick necklace that makes him actually tear up a little, though he tries to hide it by running his hands through his hair.
My stomach knots as she hands me the last package. It's smaller than the others, and lighter.
Inside is a braided leather bracelet. The warm brown leather is soft, well-worked, with a small silver clasp. "I made it. It's kind of silly, but..." She takes a deep breath. "I made myself a matching one, so they're kind of like friendship bracelets."
My throat tightens as she fastens it around my wrist. The leather settles against my skin like it belongs there.
"Last night, what you said about feeling lonely..." She looks down, fidgeting with the empty box. "Sometimes the spotlight makes it harder to see the people standing right beside you. But we're here. All of us."
"Quinn..." The words stick in my throat. The bracelet feels heavy on my wrist, its message burning into my skin.
"You don't have to say anything," she says quickly. "Just... remember you're not alone, okay?"
I clear my throat, trying to shake off the emotion threatening to overwhelm me. "Thank you," I manage, my voice rougher than intended.
Beau breaks the moment by throwing wrapping paper at my head. "Wait a damn minute, are you crying?"
"Shut up," I growl, discreetly wiping my eyes. "There's just... dust or something."
"Right," Lyle drawls. "Dust."
But when I catch Quinn's eye, she just smiles, and I find myself smiling back, my fingers absently tracing the leather at my wrist.
"Your turn!" Lyle practically bounces as he hands Quinn a sparkly gift bag. "This is from me and that idiot over there." He jerks his thumb at Austen.
Quinn pulls out a pink bedazzled cowboy hat and matching boots. Her laugh fills the bus. "Oh my God."
"For your performances," Austen explains, running his hands through his hair. "We noticed you never wear a hat, and well... you can't be a proper country star without a ridiculous hat... and boots to match."
"Plus it lights up," Lyle adds, reaching over to press a hidden button. The rhinestones start twinkling like Christmas lights.
"This is amazing." Quinn puts it on, striking an exaggerated pose. "How do I look?"
"Like a disco ball threw up on your head," I snort, but I can't help smiling at how her eyes sparkle with genuine joy.
Beau clears his throat, holding out a wrapped package. "This one's from me."
Quinn carefully peels back the paper, revealing a leather-bound journal with her initials tooled into the cover. Her fingers trace the detailed scrollwork.
"I saw you writing in that beat-up notebook the other night," Beau says softly. "Thought maybe you could use something a little sturdier."
"It's beautiful," she whispers, opening it to reveal cream-colored pages. "But this must have cost-"
"Don't." Beau cuts her off. "Just... write something amazing in it, okay?"
She hugs the journal to her chest, and I have to look away from the raw emotion on her face. The bracelet feels heavier on my wrist.
My heart pounds as I watch Quinn's face fall slightly when she thinks everyone's done giving gifts. The guitar case hidden in my room feels like it's burning a hole in my conscience.
"Hold up." I stand, swaying slightly as my hangover protests. "Got one more thing."
The others exchange surprised looks as I duck into the back. The case is right where I left it, wrapped in a red bow I stole from the hotel lobby's Christmas tree.
Quinn's eyes widen as I carry it out. "Jarron..."
"Just..." I clear my throat. "Open it before I change my mind."
Her hands shake as she unlatches the case. Inside lies a Martin D-28, its spruce top gleaming under the bus's fluorescent lights. I'd noticed her eyeing it in that music shop last week, the way her fingers had ghosted over the strings before checking the price tag and walking away.
"I can't-" Her voice breaks. "This is too much."
"Your old one's falling apart," I mumble, running my hands through my hair. "And you can't keep borrowing mine during soundcheck. Besides..." I gesture vaguely at the bracelet on my wrist. "I really am sorry for being such a dick to you in the beginning. You got me thinking about what really matters."
She lifts the guitar out with reverent hands, tears spilling down her cheeks as she strums a chord. The pure, rich tone fills the bus.
"Thank you," she whispers, and the genuine emotion in her voice makes my chest tight.
"Yeah, well." I shrug, uncomfortable with the way everyone's staring at me. "Merry Christmas or whatever."