Chapter 42
Easton
IDFC—blackbear
I feel sick as I read one article after another. There are too many, and I know I need to stop, but I can’t bring myself to put my phone down and leave it alone.
Using Liam Bellamy’s daughter . . . marketing strategy . . . insider . . . spotlight . . . relationship . . . no denying that the band owes its rise to fame primarily to the rock star’s daughter.
My mind is racing, my head is too full, my heart is beating too fast.
I should be happy that the video was so well received, and people want more from us.
They want our music. Instead, everything feels wrong because of these damn articles.
I’ve been reading them for what feels like ten hours without being able to stop myself.
I’m obsessed in the unhealthiest way, and part of me knows that it’s all absolute bullshit.
There are no insiders, and our relationship isn’t some crappy marketing strategy. It’s just Rayne and me. We’re successful because our song is good.
Unfortunately, there’s also a small part of me that sees it differently.
I’m afraid the people who write these articles are right, because the doubts in my head are too loud.
What if some of what they’re saying is true?
Before Rayne came to Boston, before we met, things weren’t working out with the music.
Not the way they should have. We gave it our all, but it was never enough.
And then we wrote this one song that changed everything, and we did it together.
“Stop feeding yourself that crap.” Beck appears behind me so unexpectedly that I’m startled.
I didn’t even hear him come home. He was still at work last I checked, while Colin was on the phone with Emma in his room and Jax was upstairs busy taking care of our social media accounts.
He took charge without being asked, and I’m grateful because I probably wouldn’t be able to handle all the toxic crap on TikTok and Instagram.
Not even if the positive feedback outweighs the negative at the moment.
“I can’t,” I reply. I shout in protest as he takes my phone away.
“You have to!” His eyes narrow to slits. “You know that none of what those idiots write is true, right?”
“Yes,” I reply, but even I can hear that I don’t sound convinced.
“East . . .” he says warningly, because he knows exactly what’s going through my head, and I groan in annoyance.
“I know it’s bullshit, okay? Rationally speaking.”
“Well, then please try to look at it rationally.” He smiles warningly, and I would really like to do what he asks, but unfortunately, it’s not that easy.
“Do you think we could have done it without Rayne?” The question bursts out of me before I can stop myself, and I hate myself for even asking it.
Sighing, Beck plops down next to me on the sofa. “Does it matter?”
I want to say no, but that would be a lie.
“It’s just . . . Never mind. It’s stupid.” I let my head fall back and press my palms against my eyes.
“East, come on. Spit it out.”
“I feel like the biggest asshole ever.”
“You’re not.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.”
“And because I know you. Come on. Tell me.”
“Remember when I had that fight with Rayne? When I freaked out after we wrote the song?”
He nods, of course he remembers. It wasn’t that long ago, after all.
“I felt like a failure because I couldn’t do it without her. And now I feel the same way, only worse, because things are going really well now, and maybe those stupid bastards are right,” I blurt out.
“Which part of the crap in those articles are you referring to? Just so I know what I have to talk you out of.” Beck nudges me in the side, and I grimace.
“What if it’s true? What if I just used her?” I ask quietly.
Beck doesn’t answer. He stays silent until I have to look at him, and then he returns my gaze incredulously.
“Do you want me to punch you now or later?” he asks, trying to sound friendly, and I roll my eyes.
“I’m serious.”
“Yeah, me too. East . . . Jeez. You know that’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
“You tell me.” He changes his tactic. I should have seen it coming; after all, I know him as well as he knows me. “Did you use her?”
My heart skips a beat. Everything in me resists Beck’s question. And with that, I guess I have my answer. But I’m not ready to admit it. My mind isn’t cooperating. The doubts are too loud and I wish I could just turn them off. But it’s not that easy.
“Not consciously.” It’s a small concession I’m willing to make.
“Not even subconsciously.” His voice has taken on a gentle undertone that I haven’t heard from him in a long time.
“But what if she thinks I was?” I can’t look him in the eyes, staring at my hands instead as my shoulders tense painfully.
“You don’t really believe that, do you?”
I slowly shake my head. No, not really. But in another way, I somehow do. Why is everything so damn complicated? Why the hell am I like this?
“You would never take advantage of anyone. Especially not Rayne. This thing between the two of you started long before you even knew who she was.”
My fingers close around the bracelet on my wrist. He’s right. I know that. But knowing something and feeling it are two completely different things.
“I hate my mind,” I mumble.
“Don’t say that. Your mind is great. You do some pretty good things with it. Writing songs, for example. Damn good songs. None of us can write like you, East.”
“I’m better with Rayne.”
“What’s wrong with that?” he asks, and I guess that’s the million-dollar question.
“Nothing,” I admit with a sigh. “The thing is . . . I want to write with her. I want to write a thousand songs with her. Because everything is better with her. And easier. So why can’t I get the idea out of my head that I have to do it alone?”
“I’d love to tell you that there’s a logical explanation for that, and I’m sure there is. If I’d studied psychology, I might be able to tell you. But I didn’t, and I can’t. Just give yourself some time, okay? And talk to Rayne about it. I think that might help.”
I roll my eyes and smile lamely. “Talking helps? Really?”
He laughs. “I’ve heard rumors.” He stands up and slaps me on the shoulder. “Now go talk to her. She knows all about drama with the press. I’m sure she can talk you out of this mess even better than I can.”
“Hmm, you’ve done a pretty good job already.”
“I’m good at this. Now I’m going to go see if Jax needs any help. He’s taking this too hard, but at least he’s not as emotionally involved as you are.” He’s almost at the door when I stop him again.
“Hey, Beck?”
He glances back at me questioningly over his shoulder.
“Thanks.”
“That’s what best friends are for.”
I nod. Yes, that’s true. But my doubts haven’t really gone away yet.