11. Wesley #2
“Yeah, it’s not like we’re practicing round the clock like we used to, except for Wes. And they”—Jared gestures, fanning out his arm to encompass an imaginary audience—“expected us to be just as good. Shit, I even started going to therapy twice a week because I couldn’t handle the stress.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Luca demands.
“I guess I just thought we were all going through it.” Jared shrugs.
“Speak for yourself,” Garrett says. Though, he looks at me, arching a brow as if to say see, Jared’s not nearly as fucked up as you and still thinks it’s worth getting help .
I promise, I try to say back. I’ll try harder. Be better. For them.
“Oh, fuck off. Not all of us can be savants,” Jared shoots back.
“I guess I just never thought…” Luca starts.
“Thought what?” Jared pushes.
“That you guys would understand.” Luca swallows hard and averts his gaze. The loneliness and helplessness that came after the breakup? Yeah, he’s not the only one.
“Understand what?” Garrett urges Luca, though it still feels like he’s using this as an excuse to say what he thinks I need to hear.
“Luca…” Jared’s voice trails off.
“No, you’re right. It’s fucked that we just kept going without you.
We should have stopped and given you a chance to recover before ending things for real,” I finally say, scraping a hand through my hair.
The apology tastes sour on my tongue. I’m sorry he was hurt, that how everything ended has impacted him for so long.
But there are some truths I can’t say. The band needed to end. Maddie never cared about them, but she would have hurt them to get to me, and I stopped it. She still lays claim to a part of me, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay.
“I’m not trying to blame you guys,” Luca quickly says.
“Doesn’t mean we aren’t to blame.” My eyes lock on Luca’s. I can’t stop thinking about what Evelyn said at the rehearsal. “Fuck, I’m to blame for so much shit that I understand if you can’t forgive me.” And part of me doesn’t want him to, because I’m not sure I can forgive myself.
“I do wish you would have told us sooner, Luca,” Garrett says, his gaze uncharacteristically softening. “We were—we are—a family. A crappy one lately, but that doesn’t change everything we’ve gone through.”
Luca smiles. “I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”
I really hope he’s right.
Luca’s bar, Half a Memory, is named for our song.
It’s a tourist trap dedicated to the band’s glory days.
Posters of us are plastered around like wallpaper, and there’s a lingering neon pink glow.
The place is already packed by the time we arrive, the bartenders doing their best to keep up with the endless wave of party goers.
“You!” is all I hear as I’m yanked across the room. I stumble and scramble to regain my footing. Avery’s hand is clamped on my bicep. Her mouth is set in a hard line, and she won’t meet my gaze.
“I don’t mind you snatching me up, but care to tell me where we’re headed?”
She doesn’t answer until we reach what looks like a storage closet. “Inside. Now.”
“I would have preferred somewhere with a bit more privacy, but if you need to be alone with me that badly…” I tease, not minding in the least how when she shoves me inside there’s less than a foot between us.
My gaze slips down her body, taking in how the simple black silk dress hugs her hips while the slit gives a generous glimpse of her leg.
The fire in her eyes flares brighter. “What are you playing at?”
She’s pissed, and it’s always more fun to pretend she isn’t.
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re crashing my documentary. I told you how important this was to me, and you just had to get your hands all over it, didn’t you!”
“You invited me, remember?”
“I don’t remember asking you to do that. I mentioned interviews.”
“I did it because it sounded important. I wanted to help and thought additional financial backing wouldn’t hurt.” That’s all I want, to help and show her that she has support. God. I was so eager to do it, that I didn’t bother to stop and consider how it would look to her.
“I don’t need your help and I don’t want it.
This was supposed to be mine, and you couldn’t help but insert yourself like you do with everything else.
I’m so fucking sick and tired of people making decisions they think are good for me without stopping to ask what I need!
” she yells, but I can’t help but lean into her anger.
She’s so alive standing up for herself. Her fire is back, flaring bright in the shadowy space. Fucking magnificent.
The door creaks, and Avery and I both turn to find Lacey in the door frame. She stammers something I can’t make out then gestures at the bottles before grabbing them and slipping back out with a murmured apology. Some of the rising pressure leaves with her.
“Avery, I didn’t think.”
“Yeah, you rarely do. I should have expected you to cross a line eventually, I just thought you’d hold out a little longer.”
With a final look, she slams the door, causing the bottles to rattle on their shelves.
I don’t run after her, don’t insert myself again where I’m obviously unwanted.
That will only make this worse. When the adrenaline wears off, regret sets in.
I could have just checked, offered. I wanted to surprise her but I didn’t think. I just jumped and hoped for the best.
Exiting the closet, I go to the bar, and the tatted East Asian bartender with a buzz cut—Craig, from what I remember—serves everyone but me. I have to flag the guy down to get his attention.
“Hey, I think you forgot me.” I smile.
“Nah, I’m ignoring you on purpose. I agreed to let you in the bar. I never agreed to serve you,” he says. He’s one of Luca’s good friends, so I guess I know why I’m getting such pleasant treatment. My gaze goes to the blonde bartender. “Nope. She won’t get you shit either.”
“Damn. I may as well leave,” I mutter.
He must hear me because he says, “Yeah, that’s kind of the point. Hope your night goes the way you deserve.”
I try the other bartender, but as promised, no luck.
I try asking someone else to grab me a drink.
In the end, I’m empty handed when I find the guys.
Evelyn is with them, and since Avery is nowhere in sight, I assume she must have left.
We talk a bit, rehashing old memories. Lacey rejoins the circle, but she ignores me.
It’s obvious I’m not welcome at this celebration.
No matter what we said to each other after the show, I don’t belong.
On my way out, I swipe an unopened bottle of champagne from behind the bar while Craig isn’t looking. I don’t want to be alone tonight, and I don’t want to leave things with Avery on bad terms, I guess it’s a good thing I know what hotel she’s staying at.