Chapter 12
As if Keaton’s vulnerability opened the floodgates, Nash clears his throat. “My parents were shit; Dad walked out when we were kids. I barely remember him, and my mom was more worried about finding her next fix than raising the two kids she had.”
His immediately jumping into his story gives me a much-needed reprieve from the pressure of saying anything under the weight of my drummer’s begging eyes. He wants to hear me say something so badly... I take a deep breath, trying to clear the emotion clogging my throat.
Keaton turns to give Nash his attention. It might give me some time to process—well, everything—but I know this will only add to the storm roaring inside me.
“My mother was a piece of shit. She let her dealer abuse my sister. I don’t want to go into details, it’s still too painful to relive those memories, but I had to listen to everything he did to her through the wall. The screams. Her begging for it to end.”
I’ve never heard Nash sound so lost. He stares out the window watching the waves crash against the sand. “By the time I got us out of there, my sister was too broken. She stopped eating, wasted away, lost the will to live. It was like her soul left her body long before she died.”
He shakes his head, trying to keep himself from falling head first into the past. “I researched ways to help her, but in the end I wasn’t able to get her the professional support she needed. I’m not sure anything could’ve brought her back.”
I’m suddenly reminded of how he acted the first time we were intimate; how he gave me control, the careful way he treated me. It was exactly what I needed, and he knew that.
“Baby girl, I love you, but you trying to wall yourself off and go through this alone is killing me. Please let us help you. Please choose to be here with me.” His eyes plead with me to agree.
He moves from his place on the couch and kneels in front of me, making Keaton move out of the way. “I’ll beg if you need me to.”
I stare at Nash, the raw pain etching lines around his eyes, his mouth set in a firm line, and I feel something inside me crack. All this time, I’ve been so caught up in my own darkness that I forgot others have their abysses too.
Okay, I mouth. Nash’s expression shifts immediately, a mix of relief and lingering sadness washing over his features. He reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle.
“Okay, you want me to beg? Or, okay, you’ll let us back in? For reals?” he asks playfully. It makes a small, husky chuckle spill out of me. I can’t help but shrug my shoulders coyly, like I very well might want him to beg.
“I’ll wait to beg until we’re in the bedroom,” he says with a wink before a serious expression takes over his face once more. “I don’t care what your voice sounds like, as long as I get to spend my life by your side, hopefully making music.”
“Same,” Keaton quickly adds, returning to speaking as little as possible after how much he shared.
“I think it’s fair to say we all feel that way,” Blake says. “You all know my family disowned me when I decided not to pursue a career in classical cello performance. My grandfather was the only one who supported me. Rich people are fucking wild, man, but I don’t have the stories you guys have.”
“It’s not a competition,” Nash murmurs, returning to his spot on the couch. “Trauma is trauma. It comes in all shapes and sizes. Doesn’t mean yours isn’t valid, and you sure as shit shouldn’t compare it to anyone else’s.”
Blake gives him an appreciative smile that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. I miss spending time between the two of them. Something I didn’t realize until right now. Honestly, the thought of sex hasn’t even popped into my mind once since my attack. No surprise there.
Tristan clears his throat behind me and shifts to where we can see each other better.
“I think it’s about time I explain why I was such an utter ass and made a fool of myself.” He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. The way it hitches in the middle gives way to how much emotion he’s working on pushing through.
I reach for his hand, wanting to comfort him even though he was the one who was a total and complete ass to me, but as I do, he pulls his hand out of my reach.
A sharp pang of disappointment cuts through me, twisting my stomach.
“I’m not sure you want to be close to me for this.
I haven’t redeemed myself yet, and honestly, I don’t want to manipulate you into forgiving me for it. ”
His words hit hard, and I feel a rush of warmth mixed with the chill of rejection.
Well, at least he’s being honorable about it—there’s something noble in his hesitancy.
But that thought doesn’t ease the ache in my chest. I want to bridge this widening chasm between us, to show him that I still care, but the distance he places between us feels like a wall I can’t penetrate.
Keaton scoops me into his arms and onto his lap, shifting to sit next to Nash. Tris moves to the edge of his seat and rests his elbows on his knees.
When Tristan glances up and catches my gaze in his, I find his blue eyes stormy with emotion. “Can I tell you our story from my perspective? At least the way I’ve seen it before finding my way back into your life?”
My breath catches in my chest, the sensation immediately spreading throughout my torso.
I know there’s always two sides to every story, but it never truly occurred to me that his version would be different from mine.
I suppose that could only come from the clarity of being someone outside of our relationship looking in.
I want to say of course, but I’m still not past the fear of using my voice. I need to hear the doctor say it’s safe to use, no matter how much my men beg me to use it. So instead, I nod my head.
He takes a deep breath, clearly grounding himself for the story he’s about to tell. I don’t have to know him to realize heartbreak is on its way.
“I was devastated that my parents wouldn’t let me go with you from the very start, but, as you know, they wanted me to finish school first. My only solace was being able to join you in the summer.”
His hand flinches like he wants to reach out for me, but he catches himself before he actually does it. Instead, he stares at his hands.
“I understood it when your replies came through slower and slower. You were busy as fuck, getting barely any sleep. It was devastating, of course, and now I know it was those worthless bastards making it seem like our friendship was dying off.
“It hurt. It hurt so bad thinking you didn’t have time for me, that you forgot all about our history, even as you sang about it nonstop.
“The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do was give you up. You were living your dreams, dazzling under the shining lights. All I ever wanted for you was to be happy, and that’s what I thought you were.”
He drops his head, and his voice becomes a whisper. “I never could’ve imagined what was really happening to you.” He lifts his gaze and meets my eyes, emotion shining in them so strongly. Sorrow like I’ve never seen from him.
“It was a few years later when my world shattered completely. I didn’t even believe the nurse on the phone calling me—how could my parents be fine one second and in danger of dying the next? I already lost you, how could the world be so cruel to take them too?
“It was the only thought on my mind, the fear of losing everyone I care about rending me useless, I barely even heard what the nurse said… They got hit by a drugged out loser. My dad died on impact, but my mom survived.
“I did everything I could to get her the care she needed, but due to a complication during surgery to repair the internal bleeding, she needed an experimental procedure that her insurance wouldn’t cover.
No matter what I did, I couldn’t come up with a way to cover the cost. The house wouldn’t sell in time, and even then it wouldn’t have been even a fraction of what I needed. But that didn’t stop me from trying.
“I called banks and got denial after denial for a loan. I started selling plasma, my car, music equipment—fuck, I even considered robbing a convenience store for those first few days—but nothing would’ve been enough.”
His voice breaks on a sob as he tilts his head down, trying to keep the emotions inside long enough to get through his story.
And I cry right alongside him, tears coursing down my face.
I want to reach out for him so badly. No matter what remains to be fixed between us, he doesn’t deserve to live through this heartbreak alone for a second time.
And I want to be there for him. I loved his parents, they were the closest thing I ever got to see of what a mom and dad should look like. This pain is raw for me, I’m only now finding out the details.
He digs his thumb and middle finger into his eyes, doing his best to stave off the tears so he can continue. All the while he takes a deep, shuddering breath prepping himself to make it through the end.
“You were my last hope, Lexi. I called, I emailed, I texted, begging you in any way I could think to help me save her even if you didn’t want anything to do with me.
And while I waited for you to reply, I stayed by her side in that sterile room, holding her hand for hours.
She’d drift in and out, sometimes she’d be lucid enough to recognize me, and she always told me not to worry.
That was Mom for you; she’d be on death’s doorstep and still try to take care of her son. ”
This time when he breaks down, I can’t help it, I move to reach for him, needing to hold him in my arms. It’s an ache I can’t bear to ignore. But before I can cross the space, he’s holding his hand up to stop me, shaking his head as Keaton’s arms band tighter around me, keeping me in place.
“You never came through for me. Never responded to a single plea for help, and then you didn’t even come to their funeral.
That’s why I hated you so much, why I thought I had a right to seek revenge from you.
It’s why I wanted to put you through as much pain as I went through.
And I regret every single moment of my self-righteous bullshit. ”
Before I can even fully process what he’s told me, he stands and walks out of the room, leaving me here to stare after him. Pain rips through my heart. He lost his mom because I wasn’t able to help him. And I would’ve if he asked. In a fucking heartbeat.
Keaton gently presses his hand to my cheek, guiding me to turn and press my face into the crook of his neck, and he silently holds me as I sob, mourning the family I lost.