Chapter 3
Derek
“Why don’t you reach out to him?” Kris asks, leaning back in his chair and crossing one ankle over his opposite knee.
I sigh. “And say what?”
“Whatever comes to mind,” my therapist replies reasonably.
I open and close my hand a few times, a restlessness running through my limbs. “I hate that he knows her. That she knows him.”
“Allegra?”
I snort. “Yeah. Allegra.”
“Because they have a relationship that you’re not privy to? Or because Dex has become a fatherly figure to Allegra instead of acting like a father to you?” Kris prods.
I swear. “Both. I don’t know,” I growl, dropping my head back. Fuck, I hate this shit. I crack my neck and face Kris. “I don’t want to begrudge her a male role model. A mentor. Whatever.”
“Are you?”
“Out of all the fucking people in the world…it has to be him? Dex?”
Kris shrugs. “Maybe it’s a good thing. A pathway. A common ground for you and Dex to connect on, if that’s a relationship you’d like to develop.”
“Don’t tell me it’s fate or some fucked-up shit like that.”
Kris doesn’t reply.
I arch an eyebrow.
He shrugs. “You’d have to believe in fate in order for that to make sense to you.”
“I feel guilty,” I admit.
“Why?”
“Because…” I throw out a hand. “Now that I’m connected to Dex, and Allegra knows it, she’s not working at Beirut anymore. I’m sure she stepped back because of the…awkwardness of the situation. But I cost her a fucking mentor. All I ever do is cost that woman shit. Fuck her life up.”
“Really? You don’t think she’d keep the relationship with Dex going if it meant more to her than her loyalty, or connection, to you?”
My eyes snap to his. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that even though you and Allegra aren’t speaking—”
“It’s too hard for her,” I remind him.
“You are communicating,” he continues. “And it sounds like she’s still prioritizing your feelings and your well-being in her life.”
“And?”
“Have you considered that she’s still betting on you? That she thinks you’re worth the risk? That all isn’t lost with her the way you think it is?”
“You’re talking in riddles.”
Kris grins. “Do you believe in those?”
“Fuck,” I mutter and glance out the window.
“Thanks for meeting me,” I say, taking the seat across from Dre.
Dre slides a coffee across the table. “Anytime. How was therapy?”
I snort. “Fucking work.”
“Bet. You reach out to Dex yet?”
I glare at my friend.
He smiles. “Allegra?”
“Fuck off,” I murmur.
Dre’s smile widens. I take a swig of my coffee.
We’re sitting at Java House. It used to be a regular place to hang out. A trendy coffee bar not too far from the brownstone.
But now, being here kicks up a wave of nostalgia.
“You interviewed her at that table.” I flip my chin toward the empty space.
In my head, I see Allegra, dressed in simple jeans and a button-down blouse, talking to Dre.
I recall the expressive dance of her chocolate eyes and the way she spoke with her hands.
His shoulders shook with laughter and when he glanced over at me, he hit the brim of his starter cap to let me see his expression.
Dre let me know from the jump how much he liked my girl.
“Damn, Derek,” Dre sighs. “You got it bad.”
“I fucked up,” I admit.
“So, call her.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to me. No…” I shake my head. “Scratch that. She doesn’t want to hear my voice. Too painful.”
Dre winces. “That girl’s got a big fucking heart.”
“Yeah.”
“You broke it.”
“Twice,” I admit pathetically.
Dre glances down at his coffee mug, not saying anything since there’s nothing to say.
“You know”—I shift in my chair, leaning over the table—“the entire time I was on tour, I fucking hated myself. Hated that I hurt her. Hated that I left her. But still, I thought I was doing right by her. Maybe it was delusional, but I truly thought, Allegra is better off pursuing her dreams without me and my bullshit.”
Dre looks up, his gaze curious.
“And now…” I snort. “Now, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I hate that I let her down, again. And I don’t necessarily think she’s better off without me. That’s something Kris got into my head about,” I admit. “I know I’m fucking nothing without her and yet…”
“What?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I’m confused. My head is a mess. There’s like this wall, a mental block, or something. I can’t move past it, and I just feel stuck.”
“So why don’t you reach out to him?” Dre poses his question again.
“Derek Madden,” I scoff. “Can you believe my mother named me after him? And never told me.”
“Yeah, I can believe Judy did that,” Dre murmurs quietly.
“And now she’s dead,” I spit out. “I’m so fucking angry at a woman who’s not even around to hear it.”
“You could tell me,” Dre offers.
I scoff. “I’m in therapy, remember?”
Dre smirks. “Yeah, Kris is solid. What does he think you should do?”
“Reach out to him,” I admit, not liking it any more coming from Kris than I do from Dre.
“You think he’d talk to you?”
“Allegra says he will.”
Dre arches an eyebrow. “So, you and A are talking…”
“Via email,” I huff. “Like fucking pen pals.”
“Better than nothing.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I don’t even know what I’d say.”
“I bet if you make the first move, he’ll help you figure it out,” Dre says seriously. Cautiously.
I narrow my eyes. “He didn’t exactly win any parenting awards.”
“He didn’t exactly know he’s a father,” Dre shuts my shit down.
I heave out a sigh and hang my head. “My head is fucked, man.”
“Yeah,” Dre agrees. “But you’re here, talking about it. Or meeting up with Kris. Or making music.”
I look at him.
He smirks. “You’re not getting blitzed, or fucking a nameless woman, or falling off the grid.
You’re dealing, Derek. In your own time and in your own way.
But you are processing. You are trying. And you’re doing your damnedest not to bring A down with you.
Maybe you don’t realize it. And maybe she can’t see it.
But I do. I know you, and the way you’re acting right now…
it’s not in your nature. This isn’t you reacting, it’s you trying. Keep showing up.”
“And doing the work,” I murmur, repeating Allegra’s words.
“Exactly,” Dre says, smacking his lips together. He takes another swig of coffee before knocking on the tabletop. “I gotta head out. Roll through this week?”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I’m doing a music lesson on Friday.”
Dre smiles. “Sarah and Jem will love that. Sarah is always asking for you. She’s working on her own song now.”
“Really?” I ask, happy to hear it. Sarah is an adorable kid. Pure hearted. The fact that I can make an impact on someone as good as her inspires some hope in myself.
“Come through and see for yourself.”
“See you Friday,” I commit.
Dre grins. “See you.”
I watch as my oldest and truest friend exits the coffee shop. Then I lean back in my chair, stretch my legs before me, and think about what he said.
I’m trying. I’m not giving into my nature. I’m doing better.
Maybe I should reach out to him. My father.
Derek fucking Madden.
May 3
2:47 p.m.
Hey, Stellina,
How was your dinner with the girls? Congrats to Mckenna. Law school is no joke. I can see her doing it though. Living in the library and wearing those cardigans she rocks.
How’s your new place? Did you and Levi settle in okay? Is he doing shit around the apartment or being a general slob and expecting you to clean up after him? Don’t let him get away with that.
I’m doing good. Had another music lesson at the group home on Friday. Sarah asked about you. She’s songwriting now and to be honest, it’s not half bad. She pours her heart into the words, little pieces of her soul and her hurt, and if she keeps it up, she could do something with it.
Dre asked me if I’d mentor her. I fucking laughed. Can you imagine me, mentoring someone? But the more I think about it…the more it doesn’t seem so crazy. What do you think?
I’ve been thinking more about Dex. About reaching out to him. Fuck, it’s weird. I thought about him—my dad—my whole life. To learn his identity at nearly thirty years old is a mind fuck.
What do we even talk about? What do I say?
It’s awkward as hell and yet… I still have questions. I just don’t know if I want the answers.
I miss you, little star.
Love,
Derek
I close my laptop and pick up my phone. Scroll through the messages. Delete the one from Mav’s boy, Flip, asking if I want to party tonight. Blow up the image of Mav doing a flip off a fucking rock in the middle of the ocean.
Me: Don’t crack your skull.
Mav: Scared I’ll take your persona as edgy and closed off?
I snort. Fucking Mav.
Me: You can’t pull it off. Your good looks are all you’ve got going for you.
Mav: (three middle finger emojis)
Me: How’s Costa Rica?
Mav: Pura vida, baby. Come down for a visit?
Me: Can’t.
Mav: Too busy brooding.
Me: Something like that.
Mav: Knock it off. It’s been nearly a month. Pull yourself up by the bootstraps.
Me: And do what?
Mav: Call your dad. Talk to him. Get a fucking grip. Then, get your girl.
Me: Why does it sound so simple when you type it out?
Mav: ‘Cause it is. Just a complicated mess in your messed-up head.
Me: Thanks, Mav.
Mav: Anytime.
Me: I was being sarcastic.
Mav: I was being truthful.
Mav: Call your father, Derek.
Mav: Then, come down here. Your soul will thank you for it.
I snort. Fucking Maverick makes everything seem easy and straightforward. He’s the life of every party and by far every girl’s favorite bandmate. He’s likable and charismatic.
But not everything is black and white. I spend most of my time in the gray. And this shit with my dad is the most ambiguous thing in my life.
Still, with Allegra, Kris, Dre, and now Mav’s voices, and wisdom, ringing in my ear, I open the email app on my phone.
Tapping out an email to Jess, I ask for Derek Madden’s phone number. I know it’s been sent via official correspondence on several occasions. Just because I have his number doesn’t mean I have to call him.
Jess responds immediately with the digits.
I snort. I guess even she wants me to make the call, or she wouldn’t have been so forthcoming with the information.
Do I call him?
Now or later? Should I send an email first to clear a time to talk?
I chuckle. It shouldn’t be this stressful. A man talking to his dad shouldn’t feel insurmountable.
I save his number in my contacts as Dex.
Kris is going to give me a gold star for this shit.