48. Jace
JACE
For the next two days, I go through the motions. Wake up at dawn with Layla. Feed her. Play with her for a few hours. Get to the studio.
We end up getting an extra day to record, which is a blessing and a curse because we spend half of it filming a music video for “Red Light.” The rest of the time, we argue over arrangements and instrumentation and harmonies.
All the while I’m thinking, is this worth losing Rory? Is this worth dragging Layla around the country for the rest of the year? Can I repair the shit I’ve screwed up with my wife?
It’s clear as day now—I love Aurora. But I don’t want to use those words to coerce her into staying or doing something she doesn’t want to do.
Because I did that once. I begged my mother to stay. Swore I loved her enough to make up for my asshole father. With her luggage in one hand, she kissed me on my forehead, told me to be a good boy, and walked out our front door. I never saw her again.
So no, I won’t leverage those words against Rory. That feels manipulative.
I hurt her. Badly. Now that I’ve had a little more sleep and time to calm down, I can appreciate the scope of how I’ve fucked this up.
We were doing so good on Sunday at her stepsister’s reception, but not checking in with her every day detonated a bomb in our relationship, and now I’m trying to pick up the broken pieces.
Thinking back over the last week, I look for ways I could’ve done things differently. I couldn’t leave the studio again in the middle of things, and I didn’t have my phone.
I guess I thought Rory trusted me. And maybe that would be true if we’d had more time to build trust. If we’d been together longer or if this wasn’t such a pressure cooker.
I don’t know how to fix this. My only hope is that once we’re back on the bus and holed up together in that back bedroom, we’ll hash things out.
Because sleeping on two queen-sized beds is too much space. She won’t sleep next to me anymore, and even though we’re only a few feet apart, she feels a million miles away.
By checkout on Saturday, when Rory’s icy demeanor hasn’t softened at all, I start to wonder if I’m gonna have to finish this tour without her. I have a difficult time envisioning that. In such a short time, she’s become my best friend.
I’ve never had a best friend who was a woman before. I see now that’s what Paige is to Rhett, Baylee to Mav, and Honey to Beau. My brothers ended up with their best friends.
And mine looks at me like I stomped on her heart before I lit it on fire.
Thick, ominous clouds hang over the city as I stand on the curb with Layla and the guys. Shane nudges me. “How are things going? Any luck?”
He motions to Rory, who’s sitting inside by the large picture window. Our eyes meet through the glass, and she turns away. “Not yet.” I tug at my t-shirt because it’s hard to breathe. I’m not sure if it’s the high humidity or if it’s because I feel like I’m dying.
“You gonna be okay?”
“I’ll be fine.” If I can get Rory to talk to me again.
“Rara!” Layla grins at me, and I try to reciprocate.
“That’s right, ladybug. Rara’s over there.” I have her wave to Rory, who looks as depressed as I feel. Our bus finally pulls up with the trailer in the back for our gear, and Edmond and Ozzie emerge to talk to Frank. We start loading our stuff under the bus, but I stop when I hear Frank yelling.
“You weren’t supposed to switch buses. Jace needs that…” I don’t catch the rest, but Frank looks like he’s about to stroke out.
Ozzie gets on the phone, and Layla and I head over to my manager. “What’s going on?”
Frank closes his eyes. “Tour bus got switched. This one only has bunks.”
Son of a bitch. “I thought we locked in the one with the master bedroom.”
“That’s what I was told.”
Ozzie gets off the phone. “Sorry, fellas. This is what we have, and if you want to make it to Oklahoma for tonight’s show, we’d better get going.” He glances at the horizon, which is gray. “The second half of that front is sweeping in soon.”
Fucking perfect.
Rory walks up to us with her arms crossed. On her arm is her tote bag with all of her books and journals. “Is everything okay?”
Not by a long shot. “This bus only has bunk beds.”
She pushes up her glasses and shrugs. “So we’ll take turns with Layla. I’ll work on a schedule.” She pats Frank on the shoulder. “You did your best. It’ll be okay.”
“Thanks, kid. Appreciate you understanding.”
That’s it? Isn’t she pissed? We’re gonna have to take care of a baby while we sleep in goddamn bunk beds. Or is she just running away from me?
I hand Layla to Rory and stalk after my manager.
“Frank, hold up. I’m not okay with this.
We’re paying a lot of money for this bus, and you said we’d get the same setup for the rest of the tour.
” I might not have known I needed a master bedroom when we started, but I’ve been vocal about how much it’s helped with the baby.
“I’ll see what we can do about switching it out at some point. For now, this is it.”
At some point? When might that be? Next week? Or after Rory divorces my dumb ass?
I watch Frank walk away, completely blind to the fact he just drove the final nail into the coffin of my marriage. Rory and I will never survive this new setup. I already know she’s gonna hole up in her bunk bed for the rest of the summer, only coming out if absolutely necessary.
Grinning, Cooper holds out his arms. “Welcome to bunk bed life. Hope y’all know this doesn’t mean I’m curbing my nighttime activities.” He waggles his bushy brows at me.
“You’re not fucking groupies two at a time, feet away from my sleeping daughter.” His friends run up and down the bus naked after shows and do drugs. I’ve lived the party life too, so I understand where he’s coming from, but that doesn’t mean I’m okay with that shit around my baby.
“Why not? You fuck Rory within spitting distance. Isn’t she just a groupie with a nicer title?”
I haul back and punch him in the goddamn mouth. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”
Shane and Derek yank me away as Cooper spits out blood. “Are you really picking that little mouse who barely talks to anyone over me?”
I lunge at him again, but my friends keep me from kicking his ass. “Shut the fuck up. You don’t know shit about her.”
“She doesn’t get you, man. She doesn’t understand this life. She can barely stand your friends.”
I glare at the man I once considered a brother. “Then maybe I have the wrong friends.”
He wipes more blood off his mouth and points to her. “You’re really picking her over me?”
I glance at Rory, who’s watching all this shit with wide eyes as she holds my daughter.
“Yeah, I’m really picking her.” I hope she sees the regret in my eyes.
For dragging her on this tour. For recording that song with Marlowe.
For pretending to flirt with my ex. For all the dumb shit she’s had to deal with from my so-called friends.
I shake my hand, realizing it’s gonna hurt like a bitch when I play the guitar tonight.
Frank glares at us. “Load up on the damn bus. I’m calling a band meeting in ten.”
I already know what he’s gonna say. That the show must go on.
But as I stare at my sweet little librarian, I wonder if I can handle moving on without her.