Chapter 2
The next morning, I sent a text message to our tour manager Mick Bauer. The man had seen Zack at his very worst throughout the tour, and I hoped that maybe his maturity and experience would give Zack a different perspective.
I asked him if he would mind being part of an intervention. Braden and I hadn’t yet worked out the details, but it would be helpful to know who was on board.
Unfortunately, Mick’s sentiments were similar to Cy’s: Hey, kid. Nice to hear from you. I hope you’re all getting some rest. And thanks for asking, but I’m gonna have to say no to that. Zack’s just sowing his wild oats. I’ve seen it a million times before.
There was a pause, but I saw that he was still typing—and, as much as I wanted to rail at him, I simply waited impatiently for the rest of his response. It was his first time on the road and he got a little out of control. Trust me—he’ll be better next time. I bet he’s already calmed down.
I didn’t know about that—but I’d purposely not spent much time around him upon returning, so I didn’t know for certain. So I just typed, Okay, thanks, and left it at that. Mick responded by telling me to take care and said he hoped we could work together again.
At least his last sentiment warmed my heart—but it didn’t help with my overall problem.
So I sent Braden another text message, letting him know Mick was out. We should probably talk to his mom.
An hour later Braden responded. Yeah, but how do we do that without Zack around?
That’s a good question. Could we maybe text her and ask if we could meet with her alone? I asked.
Yeah, Braden said. Do you want me to do that?
But my mind was already whirling—and then it hit me.
Holy shit.
With just one realization, I almost thought it was no wonder Zack didn’t think we were good enough friends to share his sorrows with. And I had to ask Braden—because maybe it was just me.
Did you tell Zack happy birthday?
Jesus. No.
Me neither. I completely missed it. It had been in January—and we’d been on the third leg of the tour. I literally lost track of time.
Me too.
Braden was probably thinking we were shitty friends, just like I was—and Zack hadn’t bothered to remind us.
Maybe he’d forgotten too? At that point, he’d become legally able to drink, so maybe he had remembered—but as much as he’d been drinking, I doubted it.
Had he already renewed his driver’s license?
He must have done it while we were home for Christmas break before hitting the road again.
But I finished my thought. Well, I know this isn’t entirely true, but maybe we could tell his mom we want to talk about his birthday.
At that, my phone rang. Braden wanted to talk.
And that was hard for me. I was still sorting through my confused stupid feelings for him and Zack—and talking with Braden over text or with the rest of the guys was much easier than being vocal.
Still, I answered my phone. Braden said, “That’s probably better.
Maybe we stage a surprise birthday party instead…
let him know we do give a shit. But we can also talk to his mom about his drinking problem.
Maybe she could suggest rehab to him instead of us. ”
Oh, God…that seemed like asking his mom to do our dirty work.
But I agreed anyway—because if anyone had more sway over Zack, it was his mother.
Braden offered to set up the meeting—and, before the day was over, he told me we’d be meeting Zack’s mom at a Mexican food restaurant in Dalton the following day.
When Braden also volunteered to pick me up, I agreed—because I didn’t have much gas and, as Zack had pointed out the day before, we had zero dollars to our names.
But I would have much preferred to take myself. Letting Braden pick me up seemed to send the message to him that we were a full-fledged couple…but I didn’t know that I was ready for that.
I met my mom in the kitchen. “I’m going out tonight.”
Frowning, she asked, “With Zack?”
Although I’d told her that Zack and I were currently split, I hadn’t told her about sleeping with Braden.
Already I was feeling guilty because Braden had been so giving, so loving, so gentle and sensitive, and I was closing myself off.
I could have said it was because my heart didn’t know what it wanted, but that wasn’t true.
My heart wanted Zack, fucked up or not, but I knew it would be a stupid move to go back to him.
Not only did he not deserve my love, but I deserved better.
Zack would always be my friend—and, at some point, it would be easier to address him civilly, but I needed more time.
And then I remembered that moment outside the restaurant in Rock Springs, Wyoming…when he’d said those words: Just don’t give up on me. Not yet.
Surely, he hadn’t meant romantically. He couldn’t expect me to just wait around while he indulged in other women so he could, as Mick had said, “sow his wild oats.” As a friend and fellow band member, yes, I wouldn’t give up on him. That was a promise I could probably keep.
My mom said, “Dani—with Zack?”
“No,” I said, pulling myself out of my thoughts. “Um…with Braden and Zack’s mom.” I decided not to lay all the heavy stuff on her. “We forgot his birthday so we’re going to see if we can throw him a surprise party.”
The crease between my mother’s brows deepened. “Are you sure you want to do that? You just broke up with him and doing something like that might send mixed messages.”
“Mom, we’re still in the band together. It’s not like I can completely pretend he doesn’t exist. And I’m trying to learn how to be a friend again.
” If I’d told her everything that had caused me to break up with Zack in the first place, she probably would have told me it was all a bad idea—and part of me believed that.
But she’d been allowed to make her mistakes when it came to love, and I needed that autonomy for myself as well.
“Okay. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Oh, I didn’t—but I was doing it anyway.
The phone in my hand buzzed and, when I looked at the screen, I saw that Braden had sent a text message telling me he was there. But before I could say a word, the doorbell rang.
Oh, God.
Did Braden want to meet my mom as a formal hey-I’m-the-new-boyfriend kind of thing?
Absolutely not. I was not ready for anything like that.
“Hey—I gotta go.” After kissing my mom on the cheek, I started heading out of the kitchen.
“Will you be home tonight?”
That was a legit question—because Braden might have some ideas. And maybe we could talk later, but I wasn’t ready to start spending the night at his house. It was far too soon for any of that.
“Yeah. See you later.”
And, when I opened the door, I said, “Hey,” and walked past Braden into the yard. I could tell he had definitely planned on coming inside…but I was going to play dumb if needed. I didn’t want more complications right now.
“Hey,” he said, following me down the walk toward his car.
Well…his parents’ car, an older white minivan that had, no doubt, toted him and his sisters to school when he was younger.
Although I wore a jacket, the snow from the day before had almost completely melted and I might have been able to go without.
When I reached the van, I opened the door and jumped in the passenger side, again not wanting Braden to even attempt anything gentlemanly.
And it wasn’t until we got into the car that I actually looked at him.
He wore a long-sleeved black AC/DC t-shirt, one I’d seen many times—but now I knew what he felt like underneath it…
and my body warmed, despite myself. His brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, allowing the angles of his newly shaven face to appear more prominent.
He really was a good-looking guy. Why couldn’t I just be happy with him?
“She was really happy I asked her about Zack’s birthday.”
“Good.”
Braden already had the car in drive and began pulling away from the house. “Yeah—she said she’d sent him a few texts that day and tried calling, but he just texted her once to say thanks.”
Eager to keep the conversation on Zack, I said, “Do you think she’s figured out he has a problem?”
“I couldn’t tell over the phone…but maybe.”
I looked out at the prairie and cultivated fields now that we were already out of Nopal, making our way down the two-lane highway toward Dalton.
Everything was still yellow and brown, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before things started greening up, especially after the snow we’d gotten.
Soon, there would be rows of corn, hay, and patches of hemp as far as the eye could see, interrupted by the occasional barn or house.
I thought there might be a metaphor there for my heart, but I couldn’t quite grasp it.
And I needed to keep this conversation on track. “What do you think we should say?”
“I think we need to let her take the lead—and then, maybe near the end of everything, we might bring it up.”
“I think I might have an idea for a subtle way we could approach it.”
“Yeah?” Braden asked.
“Yeah. Maybe we could ask how Zack has been doing since returning from home…kind of hinting that the tour was pretty brutal and we’re concerned.”
“That might work—but if we want her to know, we might have to spell it out.”
“Yeah, I know.” Again, my eyes drifted outside the passenger window, refamiliarizing myself with what had once been sights I saw almost every day.
And my distraction offered Braden an opening. “Can we…talk about…you and me for just a minute?”
I’d known this was coming and, much as I’d tried to avoid it, I was a captive audience—and Braden deserved as much. I immediately felt ashamed at trying to dodge my friend, a man who’d been there in perhaps my moment of greatest need. “Yeah.”
“I just…” he began, his voice tortured, “wondered where we stand.”