Chapter 30 I’m So Glad You Stayed
i’m so glad you stayed
HAYDEN
It’s been hours since we packed Riley’s things. Nastya joined us, and she was civil with me. She even supported my plan to have Ry move in.
Riley is here now, and she’s been unpacking for a good forty minutes. When I offered to help, she said, “No, thanks,” and closed the door in my face.
It stings. I want to be there for her.
With a sigh, I sit on the couch in my living room and pull out my phone. My family’s group chat is blowing up because I still haven’t returned any of their calls. I only talked to Glenn to update him on the situation.
Mom:
Has anyone heard from Hayden? He’s not answering my calls, and with all this news, I want to make sure he’s okay.
Dad:
No, but I’m sure he’s fine. Probably avoiding everyone until it blows over.
Hunter:
He hasn’t answered my calls either, but with all the media attention, I don’t blame him.
Pip:
He hasn’t responded to me either.
Story:
Not responding to his best friend, I can understand. Not responding to me? A crime.
God, I’m so fucking happy Hudson isn’t part of this madness yet. At least one family member isn’t judging me.
Story:
And we all saw the pictures of him entering his building. He’s fine.
Pip:
He probably doesn’t know what to say yet.
Story:
Or maybe he doesn’t want to say anything because if he does, it makes it all real. Btw, what do we think? Is it real?
Mom:
It’s gossip.
Dad:
With so many outlets saying the same thing, I think it’s true.
Hunter:
I’m with you there. Who do we think the baby mama is?
Pip:
That is none of our business.
Story:
Come on, Piper. This is the fun part!
Mom:
Enough. We’re spiraling.
Dad:
Has anyone noticed he’s actually reading this chat?
Fuck.
Hunter:
Hey, @Hayden, it’d be real nice if you’d pick up the phone when your family is calling you.
Dammit. I have to respond now.
Me:
Sorry for being quiet. I’m okay. The news is true. That’s all I can give you right now, but I promise I’ll explain when I’m ready. Love you all.
Riley’s door opens, so I hit send. Then, I lock my phone and put it on the coffee table.
She probably has questions about why I insisted on moving her in with me, and I want to give her answers.
“Do you want something to eat?” I ask as she lowers herself onto the couch.
“Not really. Grant brought food when he picked us up.”
I assess her, my stomach flooding with warmth. She’s in an oversized white tee and black leggings, her hair spilling over her shoulders. The dark circles under her eyes are gone, and the color has returned to her face. She looks healthier than she did a week ago.
“Piper called before I left. She asked if I’d check on you.”
Of course. They’ve sent her to check on me at least a dozen times. Why wouldn’t they now?
“What did you say?” I ask.
“That I’m busy today, but I’d let her know once I had time to come over.”
“Little does she know, you have all the answers to the questions eating at her.”
She pushes me away, giggling. “Stop. I already feel like a traitor.”
Her laughter is melodic. Why didn’t I notice it earlier? Its timbre is perfect, deep and soft.
“Then we’re both traitors, Ry baby. We’re in this together.” I angle in to hug her, but she frowns, her body stiffening. So, I shift back and settle into the cushions. “Feeling settled in yet?”
“More or less. Though it will take some time for me to get used to living with you.”
“But we’ve lived together before.”
“Not really,” she says. “I stayed with you. It was more of a visit.” She points toward the hallway, where Nastya’s husband and I stacked six boxes. “Now I need to figure out how to fit my whole life into your guest room.”
I huff. “Nonsense. You can put your things anywhere.”
“You might regret saying that once you see how much I brought.”
“Ry baby, I helped you pack. Trust me, I know.”
She giggles. “But you left before we were finished. You have no idea how much crap I brought.”
I laugh, holding my hands out in front of me in surrender. “Got it. How do you feel about inviting Nastya and her husband over for dinner later?”
Her eyes go wide and unblinking. Part confusion, part hope, I think.
Only now do I realize how the suggestion sounds. That’s the kind of thing couples do with their friends, and we’re not a couple. We are just friends. Friends who are expecting a baby together.
Fuck, even that sounds ridiculous.
“No pressure, obviously.”
“Thanks.” Her lips quirk into a smile. “Grant would say yes before Nastya even had the chance to think. He’s a big Sabotage fan.”
“Good to know.”
We fall quiet. The moment turns a little awkward, mostly because I’m in my head. I want to show her I’m here for her, that I won’t keep secrets from her.
So, I catch a lock of her blue hair with my fingers and muster the courage to open up.
“I know we could’ve figured out another way to keep the paparazzi away from you, but I really think moving you in is the best solution.
If we won’t be seen together, you’d be just another person who lives in the building.
” I hold her gaze, my temperature rising.
“After Owen’s death, I’m scared shitless I’ll miss important signs.
I don’t want to not be there when someone needs me again.
If you’re sick, I want to take care of you.
If you’re scared, I want to hold your hand.
If you’re not in the mood to talk to me or just feel like being quiet—I need to know.
I can’t risk not knowing. I can’t risk brushing something off and then losing you too. ”
“Thank you, Hade. It means a lot.” She covers my hand with hers on the back of the couch. “Will you tell me what happened with Owen? You blame yourself, but I don’t understand why.”
“I don’t even know where to start.” I hang my head and rub the back of my neck, the words tasting like lead.
“It wasn’t like one day he just…decided.
It was building—quiet, slow. Owen loved Ines so much.
She was his queen, the love of his life.
Their relationship was perfect. She was the band’s photographer, so she traveled with us.
Witnessing their love was one of the greatest joys.
But when Santi was born, Owen changed. He grew quieter and always seemed tired.
At first, I thought it was exhaustion—touring, recording, sleepless nights with the baby.
But then he’d say things like, ‘Sometimes, it feels like this whole family thing isn’t for me.
’ He’d laugh, try to shrug it off, but the words stuck with me.
A week later, he’d tell me how disgusted he was with himself for even thinking that because he loved Ines and Santi.
“He was there for them both most days. He was a good dad, playing with his little boy and reading stories before bed. But some days were dark. I’d find him alone, in the corner of the studio, eyes empty.
He said he thought he was broken. That sometimes when Santi hugged him, he didn’t feel anything. ”
Riley strokes my fingers, and the warmth of her hand grounds me, gives me the strength to continue.
“When he talked like that about his son, about his family, I thought he was just tired. Our life was a circus twenty-four seven. That kind of pressure is hard. He brooded. He was distant. I tried talking to him. When I suggested he see a therapist, he didn’t talk to me for two weeks.
Eventually, I gave up on pushing him. I was there when he needed, or so I thought.
I didn’t talk to Ines about any of it because I was afraid it would hurt her if she knew the things Owen had said.
I was afraid it would ruin their family. ”
“You did what you thought was right,” Riley whispers, threading her fingers through mine. “You tried to help.”
“I tried to help…” My voice cracks. “I tried to pull him out of it, tried to get him to talk, but I should have done more. I kept telling myself I’d push harder next time I saw him. But the next time never came. I failed my friend, Ry.”
“Hayden…”
I swallow thickly, my chest tightening. “The night before it happened, Owen hugged me longer than usual when we got off stage. Told me I was the brother he never had, that I was the best uncle to Santi. I laughed, called him a sentimental idiot.” My throat burns.
“The next day…I found him in his hotel room. There was nothing I could do to bring him back. He was gone. Forever.” Tears stream down my face, but I don’t pay them any attention.
I let her see me: broken and full of regrets.
“So, yeah. I’m guilty of not pushing hard enough when I knew he wasn’t okay.
I should’ve stayed. I should’ve forced him to talk to me. ”
The silence that shrouds us feels like a heavy weight on my soul. My chest rises and falls rapidly, my vision blurry. I expect her to pull back, to tell me I’m a selfish asshole who let his friend die. Instead, she watches me, eyes soft but intense.
Then, she shakes her head. “It’s not your fault,” she says quietly. “You can’t blame yourself for the choice Owen made. You were there for him. You cared. That means more than you think.”
My stomach twists painfully. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” she whispers, lowering her gaze to her hands.
“There was a time when I thought about it too. Ballet was…eating me alive. The constant competition, being told I wasn’t enough, the pressure to always perform, always smile, always be perfect—the weight, the looks.
And there was…” She pauses, wringing her hands.
“Someone who made it worse. A man who wanted something I wasn’t willing to give. ”
My throat closes. I can’t breathe. “Ry…”
“I thought about ending it.” She swallows audibly.
“I went so far as to write a note to Piper. But something inside me snapped, like a voice saying not today. And then, Nastya showed up at my apartment that night, completely unplanned, with a bottle of champagne and the news about her engagement. I took it as a sign I was supposed to stay.”
I can’t move. Everything hurts. Her words land like a blow I don’t know how to recover from.
“If I had gone through with it, would you have thought it was your fault too? Or maybe Piper’s?
Or my parents’? Or Nastya’s? Would you have thought someone should have pushed me harder to open up?
” She shakes her head, smiling sadly. “No one knew. I hid it from everyone. I was drowning in my problems, but I kept my suffering so quiet, no one even realized. I never asked for help. You’re the first person I’ve ever told.
So no, Hayden, what happened to Owen is not your fault.
You can’t keep holding that weight. It was never yours to carry. ”
Her words go straight through me, an injection into my veins. I blink. My chest is so tight, like an invisible fist is clenching my heart.
I haul her into my lap, cradle her to my chest, and thread my fingers through her hair.
“I’m so glad you stayed. I’m so glad you’re here with me.” I nuzzle her neck, inhaling her scent and relishing the way it slides deep under my skin. “I’ll always be here for you, Ry. I promise. I will never fail you.”
“I know… I believe you.”
“And if-if it ever gets that bad again…please don’t go through it alone. I don’t want you to feel like you have to survive that by yourself. Please, Ry…”
“Okay,” she whispers, as I tighten my hold on her.
Thank God. I’ll do anything to keep my word.