Chapter 27
Another week on the longest leg of our tour passed and not much had changed.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The guys of Ashen Retribution hadn’t said another snide word in my presence. That was huge.
But Bleak Viper was still an embarrassment, making me glad we were first on the stage.
More than that, though, I was tired of being on the road.
Most importantly, I still wasn’t speaking to Zack—and he seemed perfectly fine with it.
Of course, he had his alcohol to drown out any emotions he might have had about the whole thing.
I wasn’t talking much to Cy, either, and the four of us no longer played cards together during our downtime.
But we played for our audiences who continued eating up our live shows, and there was no way they knew about the turmoil beneath the surface.
I didn’t see this version of our band making it past our first album, though, regardless of the good show—both literal and figurative—that we were putting on.
In defiance, I started adding more and more drum fills to each song, practically daring Zack to say a word to me, but he didn’t. I wasn’t just doing it to get back at him. I was also asserting my independence and creativity—and if he wanted to fight about it, I was game.
Of course, he didn’t say shit.
Braden and I spent time bonding when we stayed in a hotel room. We played card games for two, like double solitaire and gin rummy, and watched movies as we fell asleep. Just having him as a friend helped me get over the initial shock and pain of Zack’s betrayal.
Nearing the end of the tour, we found ourselves playing in Denver.
Because we were back home, it should have been a huge celebration, but the fractures among us kept it from being anything close to festive or joyous.
We played a good show, thanks to all the practice we’d had in the past, but it was getting harder to act like we gave a shit about each other.
That night, Zack and Cy left to party—and Zack’s arm was draped over a groupie’s shoulders as they walked out of the backstage area into the night.
Inside, I thought mean things about the woman, but as Braden and I walked to our hotel in silence, I realized my venom was misdirected.
The woman was doing what many hometown female fans might have considered.
Even though Zack was drinking himself to death, he was still a good-looking guy—tall, with haunted features, and those emerald eyes.
More than that, women felt like they knew his soul because of the words he wrote and sang.
This particular woman had no idea that Zack was a cheating manwhore.
Well, good riddance. She could have him.
Except I really didn’t feel that way deep down, and I realized that I still wasn’t over him. Not at all.
It was pretty cold outside, but spring was just around the corner—and, knowing Colorado weather, I hoped it would be sunny and on the warmer side the next day.
Without looking at a forecast, it was hard to tell, but we were used to the cold here, unlike some of the places where there was humidity in the air.
I was better able to handle the chill in Denver as opposed to places we’d been to recently, like Chicago, Minneapolis, and Boston.
About a block away from the venue, Braden said, “You’re awfully quiet.”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“Great crowd tonight.”
“Yeah, they were.” But the last thing on my mind was the audience. Denver was considered our hometown by most fans, so I never felt like it counted.
A little while later, Braden held the door for me as we entered the hotel and we were once again silent as we took the elevator up to our floor.
Maybe he sensed my need for introspection, but I was making myself miserable, because I couldn’t get that image of Zack with that woman out of my head—and I partly felt like maybe he was trying to taunt me.
Would he do that?
I couldn’t really put anything past the drunk version of him.
“Did you want to shower first?” he asked.
No—I wanted to bury my head in the pillow and cry my eyes out—but I wouldn’t do that now.
It would have to wait until we were back home again.
So I told him I would—and once I got under the warm water, I let the tears fall, getting washed away in the stream as I relived the past couple of years in my head.
It was Mick who had told me to be careful what I wished for more than once—and I was starting to think maybe that applied to Zack as well.
I’d wanted that boy from early on and, looking back, it was quite clear to me that the feeling had never been mutual.
Had he simply started sleeping with me on the road to shut me up?
I couldn’t be certain.
But…he’d said he loved me. And he’d done it at one of his most vulnerable moments—and even though Drunk Zack was maybe the kind of guy who would do that, my dear friend buried inside wouldn’t have hurt me like that.
And then I thought about our very first time—when I’d given him my virginity. He’d warned me even back then that he’d mess it up. Had he known how much worse he would become? If that was the case, he was irredeemable. I couldn’t save him…and maybe he wouldn’t be able to save himself.
God, what a fucking mess I had become. A pathetic, clingy girlfriend, one who’d ignored all the fucking signs because she was so goddamned desperate to hold onto something that had no chance of working.
So, on top of feeling hurt, betrayed, and humiliated, I felt ashamed.
I had willing given myself to Zack so he could shame me… over and over again.
Tomorrow, I would be strong, firm, and defiant.
I would let him go—but I was going to allow myself one last cry tonight.
I’d just have to be quiet and turn on my bed so that my back would be to Braden and he would have less chance of hearing—and if we played a movie on TV like we usually did, it could drown out any small noises escaping my mouth.
I just had to hold it together a little longer.
After putting on my t-shirt and sweatpants, I exited the bathroom. “It’s all yours.” While Braden showered, I lotioned all my dry spots and combed out my hair. When he stepped out, I was drinking a cup of water.
He was already wearing the gray sweatpants he wore as pjs and had combed out his long hair as well.
I knew the girls offstage loved him and Cy almost as much as Zack, because both men were also good-looking.
Cy had developed a reputation as being moody while Braden was viewed as a sweet teddy bear—fun and cuddly—and that was fairly accurate, but how could these girls tell from watching us for an hour or reading interviews where Zack took up much of the space?
Braden must have sensed my swirling emotions. “How are you holding up?”
“Not so good.”
“Can I get you anything?”
His kindness caused the waterfall to begin. “Maybe a tissue.”
He must have felt better doing something rather than watching me fall apart, because he didn’t waste a moment grabbing several tissues from the bathroom. Then he sat next to me on the bed, handing them to me. As I wiped my eyes and nose, he put an arm around my shoulders.
Having his comfort and acceptance, though, allowed me to let it out—so I let the tears fall…but I finally said, “I don’t know why I’m still crying. He doesn’t deserve my tears after everything that’s happened.”
His voice was quiet. “You loved him. It’s not like you can turn it off and on like a light switch.”
He was right…and so perceptive—except for one thing. I hadn’t loved Zack. I still loved him, and I didn’t know when I’d be able to let that go.
Maybe it was a good idea to talk to Braden. I’d been yearning for a female friend to talk to, ignoring a good male friend who’d been right under my nose the entire time. “I feel like such a fool—not just for everything that happened but for being such a big baby about it.”
“You’re not a baby, Dani. He hurt you—and you’re finding your way through the pain.
” After a few seconds, his voice softened.
“Zack doesn’t deserve you. You’re sweet and funny and an amazing drummer.
You’re a fierce defender of your rights and your place in this band and he’s fucking blind to see you’re the best thing that ever happened to him. ”
Wow. I had no words…but the tears stopped as I stared at my hands gripping the wadded tissues in my lap.
Braden actually saw me. He’d seen me in a way Zack never had.
Zack, the man who was supposedly my best friend, who’d shared so many cherished moments with me…
and yet Braden really knew me, seemed to understand me better.
How the hell had that ever happened? And why hadn’t I ever thought of him in that light?
How long had he felt that way about me?
“He never deserved you. You deserve someone who—”
He cut himself off, maybe feeling like he’d said too much.
Blinking remnants of salty tears from my eyes, I looked up at him but his eyes were turned away.
Finally, I touched his chin, spiky brown stubble poking the pads of my fingers, and urged him to look at me.
When his warm brown eyes focused on mine, I could see it all then.
How the fuck had I been so blind to not see the feelings he’d harbored for me?
And for how long?
And I’d simply kept chasing Zack, completely oblivious.
His eyes searched mine, and I could sense that he wanted to look away again—but I didn’t want that. Finally, he said, “I know you still love Zack. I get it. I didn’t mean to—”
But I kissed him then. It may have been from feeling like I’d finally been validated or from wanting to show respect for the feelings Braden had held for me for so long, unrequited and unacknowledged.
His lips were warm and gentle, hesitant, but it felt as if I were being cocooned in a blanket of love and comfort.
And I felt a deep desire welling up inside me.