Chapter 27
twenty-seven
T he next day, I sat at a white table in the middle of the San Francisco airport, my black hoodie pulled tightly around me, staring blankly over the crowded main hall. People bustled past, some in suits, most in sweats, dragging suitcases, wrangling kids, moving forward like they actually wanted to be somewhere. Micah sat next to me, Wells straight across, and Noah beside him. I glanced at my burger and fries on the table in front of me.
Why did Micah insist I eat when I wasn’t hungry? I huffed and peeked at Noah. It wasn’t his fault, but seeing him with Wells was frustrating as hell. It wasn’t fair Wells could have someone on the road when I couldn’t. With a grumble, I glared at my burger, then picked up my bottle of beer and took a few gulps.
Micah, wearing a gray hoodie and jeans, frowned at me. “Eat your burger.”
“Fine.” I set the beer bottle down, picked up the burger, and took a bite. As far as I was concerned, it could be cardboard, and it would taste the same.
Noah bumped Wells. “First class, huh?”
Wells smiled at Noah. “Yeah, the label is going all out this time. It’ll be sweet.” He focused on me. “We need to get to security in about an hour.”
“I know.” I scowled and drank more beer.
Micah bit into a pizza slice, then sipped his soda. “Isn’t that a little late for going through security?”
“We have global entry, so we blow right through it.” Wells lifted his burger and took a bite.
I stared at my burger, fighting off rising nausea. Leaving Micah might be the hardest thing I had ever done, and he wouldn’t even consider any alternatives. “Fuck.”
Micah placed his hand on my thigh. “What’s wrong?”
I glared at him. “You know what’s wrong.” Fucking Noah could come out next week, but Micah wouldn’t even talk about it.
“Ash, not again.” He released a long exhale and pursed his lips.
“What’s up with you two?” Wells sipped his beer and set the bottle on the table.
“Nothing.” Wells didn’t need to know. It was none of his business right now. I scoffed and glared at the terminal.
Wells leaned across the table. “Fuck, man. Don’t be such a dick. I figured you two would be all over each other before we left, not fighting.”
Clenching my teeth, I said, “At least I’m not crying in my fucking beer.” I swigged the rest of it, then stood from the table, the white plastic chair groaning across the floor. “I’ll be right back.” I strode to a restaurant counter and ordered two more beers, then turned with both beers in my hands.
Micah stood before me, his eyes glistening. “Damn it, Ash. Wells is right. I don’t want you to leave mad at me.”
I wrinkled my brows. At least if I stayed mad, I knew I wouldn’t break down in front of everyone. “I’m sorry.” I shifted my weight.
Wrapping his arms around my shoulders, he held me, kissing my cheek. “I’m sorry, too.”
My body relaxed. I couldn’t be like this, in his arms, for six weeks. This was it. Fuck, this hurt . My eyes stung. “Don’t, Micah. You’re going to make me lose it.”
He released me with a sniffle. “What am I supposed to do? You don’t want me to hug you now?”
I blinked, and a tear slipped down my cheek. I swiped it away with the back of my hand, still holding the beer. “Not right now.” I forced myself to look into his eyes, but the pain in my chest came on strong. Fuck. It hurt too much to look at him. I really didn’t want to lose my shit right here in the terminal. My gaze locked onto the entrance to the bathrooms. “I’m serious. I’m about a second away from a full breakdown here.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Okay. Let’s go sit down. I want you to finish your burger. At the rate you’re drinking beer, you’re going to need some food in you.”
Nodding, I bit my lip and swallowed hard, then followed him to the table.
Wells’ hand rested on Noah’s cheek as he placed kiss after kiss over his mouth.
As I took my seat, I scowled. “Jesus, Wells, can you two please stop fucking each other in public?” I set one beer down and took a sip of the other.
With a chuckle, Micah dropped in next to me and set his hand on my back. “Oh, come on, they’re cute.”
Wells released Noah and twisted in his seat to focus on me. “Don’t be jealous.”
“Shit…” I set my beer down, glanced at Micah, and took a bite of my burger.
* * *
A little while later, I walked to the security gate with my backpack slung over my shoulder, a pit forming in my stomach. Ahead, Noah and Wells hugged, whispering their last goodbye. I wasn’t doing that. I wouldn’t move from where I stood. Doing that, moving, meant I was leaving Micah.
Micah entwined his fingers with mine. “Ash, are you going to be all right?”
The full force of the moment hit me like a wrecking ball, and I broke. “Fuck no.” I flung my arms around his neck, buried my face in his shoulder, and let the tears fall.
He hugged me around the waist. In a rough voice, he said, “I love you. Remember that.” He kissed my cheek.
“I don’t want to say goodbye.” I sniffled and nuzzled into his neck, my hands fisting his sweatshirt, forcing myself to be present, to sear the memory of his arms around me into my mind.
“It’s only for six weeks. You’ll be home before you know it.” He hugged me tighter.
“But I’ll only be home for two weeks. Then we’ll have to do this all over again.” Everything would be different. We’d never have time for all the things I wanted to share with him. I’d always be mentally preparing to leave. I sniffed, taking deep, calming breaths, clinging to him.
Micah kissed my cheek again. “We’ll FaceTime every day.”
My voice broke. “Don’t fucking say that. I want you, not a video call.” I clenched my jaw. This was even worse than I’d imagined that night so long ago.
“Ash, it’ll be okay. You’ll see.” He tried to pull away, but I only tightened my arms around him.
Fingers tapped my shoulder, and a hand tugged on my arm. It couldn’t be time already. “No…”
“We have to go, Ash.” Wells stood next to me, clasping my wrist.
“No.” My teeth ground together, the pain in my chest excruciating. Was this really happening, or was this just a bad dream? “Fuck no.”
“Ash, you have to go.” Micah pushed at my chest.
I let go of his shoulders, placed a hand on the back of his head, and yanked him to me for a bruising kiss, savoring the taste of him, burning it into my memory. Releasing him, I focused on his wet eyes. “I love you.” With a swivel, I strode through the TSA PreCheck line.
Don’t look back…Don’t look back…Don’t fucking look back.
A numb calm settled over me as I made my way through security. I stared at nothing along the way. Was Wells still beside me? Who cared? As I approached the gate, I barely noticed the steward scanning the boarding passes on their phone. Walking down the jetway, I stopped at the entrance to the plane, dazed. Hands pushed against my back.
“Come on, our seats are right here.” Wells grabbed my arms from behind and guided me toward the seats.
I slid into the window seat in the second row from the front while Wells sat beside me. My backpack hit the floor under the seat in front of me, and I stared at the rolling hills and the far-off bay. Was I really here? The last time I’d been on a plane, I hadn’t even known Micah existed.
A steward with short dark hair in a uniform stepped toward us. “Drinks?”
“A beer for me.” Wells poked my arm. “Want anything?”
“Bourbon. Straight up.” I kept my eyes on the window. “Make that a double.”
“Okay.” The steward left.
Wells leaned in. “I see how this is going to go. Don’t get so shitfaced they kick you off the plane.”
“Don’t worry about me.” I kept staring outside. Was Micah out there, looking back at me somehow? Memories of the past few months with him tore through my mind like a whirlwind. How had I fallen so hard and so fast? How different my life had become since I came to this place.
“What was all that about at lunch? Why were you mad at Micah?” He shifted in his seat.
The steward returned with our drinks.
I turned from the window and sipped the bourbon, letting the burn numb everything inside me. “Micah won’t even discuss coming out to meet us. Since he went back to work, he’s been working nonstop, and we’ve barely had any time together.” I huffed, the heat creeping through my chest.
“Oh, come on. We had a nice bonfire last night, and he was there for the gig at The Fillmore. It’s not like he’s been canceling on you.” He drank his beer.
“All I asked for was for him to take one day off from work before we left so we could spend a day together, and he refused. Noah did that for you.” I took another sip of bourbon and frowned, hooking my seatbelt.
He glanced at the steward as he walked by, checking on everyone. “Well, I’m sorry about that. Did he tell you why?”
The plane backed out from the terminal.
“He said something about needing to look stable after taking so much time off.” I pursed my lips and focused on the window again, watching the ground speed by as the plane took off down the runway, the engines rumbling.
“So, there you go. He probably can’t do what Noah’s doing because he took that extended leave. I’m sure things will settle down after he’s got some time back in, and he’ll be able to come with us sometimes.” He placed his hand on my arm, resting it between us. “Don’t be mad at him. I’m sure he’s doing his best.”
I chewed my lip. God, I wished I could go back and restart the day and hold Micah again. How was he feeling right now? I watched the clouds rushing past the window. Fuck. I couldn’t just call him. I couldn’t hold him. I couldn’t even look at him for six weeks. And when I came back, would he have another deadline? Would I have to replay what happened today over and over every time I left? My stomach twisted and the ache inside me came back full force.
“Wells, I’m going to miss him so much.” My vision blurred, and I twisted toward him.
He hooked an arm around my shoulders. “Come here. You still have me.”
“I know.” I laid my head on his shoulder and let tears tumble down my cheeks. With him, I’d never had to hide my emotions. In a small voice, I said, “Fuck, it hurts.” My breath hitched.
He swiped the tears away with his thumb. “I know. It’ll get better. Try to focus on all the great things we have coming up. I mean, Saturday Night Live ?” With a warm smile, he gave me a squeeze.
I sniffled. “Yeah, right?” I lifted my head and sank into my seat. “ Saturday Night Live and bourbon.” I lifted my glass and took a sip.
“That’s the spirit.” He brought his arm to rest at his side. “Cheers, man.” He raised his beer bottle and clinked it against my glass.
* * *
Over a week later, I sat with my back against a cream tufted headboard, legs stretched out in front of me, on a king-sized bed with white linens. The lights of New York City sparkled beyond the large window, a hazy blur against the dark sky. The television droned on with some action movie, its flickering images barely registering in my mind. My head buzzed. No amount of bourbon was going to cut it.
I smirked and glanced at the Jefferson Starship T-shirt covering my chest. I’d worn this shirt at The Fillmore. That was a good night. Micah had been there.
How long had it been since I left him at the airport? My muddled brain worked it out. Twelve...twelve days.
My gaze drifted to the bourbon bottle resting on the dark wooden table beside the bed, the short glass sitting next to it. I needed more. Swinging my legs over the side, I poured caramel-colored bourbon into the glass, then set the bottle upright. No need to screw the cap back on. I’d only have to take it off again. I held up the glass, resting two fingers against the side to measure. Over two fingers.
“Oh, well.” I took a sip.
Hard rapping sounded on the metal door.
“Fuck.” I clambered off the bed, ambling toward the door with an unsteady gait, and opened it.
Wells, wearing a black shirt and his black leather pants, pushed inside, sending me stumbling backward. He strode to the middle of the room. “Come with us. Everyone’s downstairs waiting for you.”
“No, I already told you I’m not going.” The words slurred, despite my attempt to pronounce them right.
“Ash, you haven’t been outside of this hotel room except for scheduled events since we got here. You need to get out.” He planted his hands on his hips.
“Why, so I can watch you hang on Noah all night? So I’m reminded that Micah isn’t here?” Just the sight of Noah made me feel lonely as fuck right now. I scowled and walked as steadily as I could to my bourbon.
He rushed at me, laying a hand over mine before I could pick up the glass. “You need to stop this. How many of these bottles have you gone through this week?”
With a huff, I released the glass and stepped away, careful not to stagger. “Not enough.”
He moved around the room, peering into the trash can, then bent over and picked up an empty bourbon bottle. “Is this your second one today?” His glare burned into me.
Pointing at the bottle in his hand, I said, “That one was almost gone this morning.” Plopping on the bed, I raked a sloppy hand through my hair, shoving it to the side of my head. “What, are you fucking keeping track now?”
He dropped the bottle into the trash and lunged at me, fisting the front of my shirt. “You better stop this shit before we hit Minnesota. Your mom doesn’t need to see this.”
I tried to focus on his face, but it was too close. “Fuck you.”
He shoved me onto the bed, my legs hanging off the edge. “No, Ash. Fuck you. Don’t think I won’t haul your ass into rehab if this continues. You will not end up like Lane.”
The words hit me like a gut punch. What the fuck did he know about it? “Don’t you fucking bring up Lane.” Heat swarmed in my chest. Growling, I scrambled from the bed and threw myself at him.
He stepped aside.
Tumbling to the carpet, I narrowly missed the television cabinet with my head. “Fuck.” What was wrong with me? My breath hitched, and my vision clouded. I was a fucking mess. Pushing up on my hands and knees, I bit back sobs. “I’m not an alcoholic.”
“Not yet, but you’re sure on your way.”
He knelt beside me and wrapped his arms around me. “Come on, man. I know you’re hurting. But this is not the right way to deal with it.”
Clinging to his arms, I rested my head against his shoulder. “I can’t go to the club. I just can’t do it. I-I need to see Micah.”
“Haven’t you two been talking every day?”
“Not really.” My voice cracked as I pulled away, rubbing my forehead with the palm of my hand. “When I call him, he’s at work, or when he calls me, we’re at an event. We never have time to say anything.” My throat tightened. “It’s just as shitty as I thought it would be.”
He exhaled, the frustration clear in his voice. “Why don’t you just go to bed and sober up?” He strode to the nightstand and snatched the bourbon bottle. “I’ll take this with me. You don’t need any more.”
My stomach twisted as embers came to life inside me. It wasn’t how it looked. I only drank at night, after everything was done. “Wells, don’t you fucking take that.” I stood, glaring at him. “I’ll be fine for all our shit tomorrow.”
He held the bottle in the air, strolling to the door like he had all the power. “Sure, because I’m taking this with me.” He twisted around, eyes flashing, nostrils flaring. “Don’t you dare order another one. I’ll kick your fucking ass.” He jabbed a finger at me. “Don’t think I won’t check your hotel bill.” Then he wrenched open the door. “Sober up.” The door slammed shut behind him.
I growled, heat rushing up my spine. “Fuck you, Wells. Fuck you.” I stomped toward the glass of bourbon still on the table, grabbed it, and took a swig, then sat on the bed, hanging my head. Should I punch something or break down and bawl my eyes out? My fingers curled around the glass, swirling the liquid.
Wells was right. I was playing a dangerous game. I knew better. But nothing else stopped the pain in my chest.
My phone buzzed on the bed. The screen lit up with an image of Micah on the beach, his dark hair wet from surfing, skin golden in the sun. My heart lurched. “Micah.”
I set the glass down and lunged sideways on the bed, grabbing the phone and answering the call.
His face filled the screen, those deep brown eyes locking onto mine. “Hey, lover.”
I rolled to my back, lifting the phone above my face, my smile softening. “Micah.” My breath came out in a shaky exhale as I touched the screen. How I wished I could really touch him. My chest ached. “I miss you.”
His brows knitted and his face tensed. “I miss you too.” He took a deep inhale. “Wells says we need to talk. I think you’re scaring him. He says you’re drinking too much.”
My gaze cut to the bourbon glass and my throat went dry. “No,” I said. “Just enough.”
“You sound drunk.” He leaned closer to the camera, his voice softer now. “How much have you had tonight?”
I gritted my jaw. Of course, Wells had run straight to Micah. I should have seen it coming. My stomach twisted again, this time with something sharper. “Is that all you want to talk to me about?” My voice was tight. “Are you only calling because Wells told you to?”
His expression faltered. “Of course not.” He exhaled, his forehead wrinkling as he studied my face. “I want to see you. I want to hear your voice.” With his voice cracking, he said, “I miss you, Ash. You have no idea.”
Everything raced through my mind—the liquor, the fight with Wells, the too-brief phone calls, the empty bed, and the ache of missing him. With a sad smirk, I said, "Oh, I have an idea." I dropped the phone on the bed and covered my face in my hands, my shoulders heaving with sobs. I couldn’t stop it anymore.
“Ash?” He shouted through the phone. “Damn it, pick the phone back up.”
With a trembling voice, I said, “I can’t.” Weeping on the bed, I rocked, releasing all my sorrow and loneliness. “I told you I didn’t want it to be like this.” I sniffed, another sob erupting from my throat. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” I wiped my eyes, but the tears kept coming.
“Ash, I can’t lose you.” His voice trembled. “Ash?”
I snatched the phone. He sounded so desperate. I shouldn’t waste my time breaking down when he was on the phone. As I sniffled, I wiped tears from my cheeks, swallowing hard. I gazed at his gorgeous face, now with the trails of tears glistening down his cheeks. “It’s okay. I’m okay.” I sniffed again. “I guess I just needed to get that out.”
“Okay. I thought you were...never mind.” He pressed his lips into a grim line and swiped his face. “Just don’t do something stupid, okay?”
“Like what?” I gazed into the phone at him. God, I wished he were here with me.
“I don’t know.” He looked away. “Don’t break up with me.”
I scoffed. “Why would I do that?”
“Because maybe you think it would be easier to not have anybody right now.” He creased his brows.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m sad and I miss the shit out of you, but at least I know you’re waiting for me at home when all this is over.” I couldn’t let him think that was even a possibility. I mustered a faint smile.
“Then please, listen to Wells and stop drinking so much. Have some fun while you’re there.” He gave me a coy grin. “But not too much fun.” The smile waned. “Know that I’m here in our home, missing you and waiting for you to come back to me.”
My eyes prickled, and I blinked. He knew just what to say to get me going again. “Okay.” I tensed my jaw. “Can we talk more, you know, like this?”
The ghost of a smile crept over his face. “Sure. Let’s schedule a time every day and not let anything get in the way.”
“No meetings.” I smiled at him.
“No interviews.” He chuckled.
“I love you, Micah.” I lay down on the bed, my head resting on the pillow.
“I love you, too.” He exhaled. “It’s late there. You should get some sleep.”
“Okay.” Gazing at him, I savored the image.
“Goodnight, Ash.”
“Goodnight.” I shut the phone off and set it against my heart.