28 EVIE
E VIE
“Carter never forgave himself for that night. Even though it wasn’t his fault.” Alex took a long draw from his beer. “The music and band have been what’s kept him going—kept him from flipping out. So he’s been dead focused on that and nothing else. Until you.”
Understanding dawned on me. “You guys are afraid that if we mess things up, if he gets hurt, then he’ll fall apart and disappear again. Or worse.” It started to make more sense.
“Maybe. I feel bad saying it like that, but yeah ... if things don’t go well .
..” He tucked his hair behind his ear, trailing off.
“Look, he’s always been kind of a weird dude when it comes to girls, never much for the whole one-night-stand thing.
All angsty, intense, sensitive songwriter dude.
I don’t get it.” He laughed, shaking his head.
“So then you come along and he’s suddenly pouring everything he’s got into you.
It freaked us out. We’re all just trying to hang on, trying not to mess up. This may be our only shot.”
“I see.”
“But I’m glad to see him happy. I thought we’d lost that part of him,” he said more gently.
Alex and I had come a long way after those initial days at the beach house.
As time went on, we’d often find ourselves perched together in quiet little nooks around venues or up late on the bus, talking about life.
I watched the condensation drip down my bottle, letting the information settle in my mind. “Thanks for telling me.” I laid my hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry you guys had to go through all that. I’m sorry about Jacob.”
He shrugged. “Eh, you know. All part of life’s crazy ride, right?”
“And what about you?” I asked, searching his face. “How are you in all this?”
He looked away to the distance, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a few moments. Then he let out a long breath, tapped my knee, and jumped up. “So. Anyway. I’ve got some guitar to play, right?” He cocked his head and gave me a sad smile, which I returned.
He strutted away, calling over his shoulder, “It’s been a pleasure, my dear. Thanks for the party. Let’s do it again sometime soon. Maybe without all the sad, sappy shit.” With a bow, he ran off toward the stage.
I sat for a few more moments, digesting everything I’d heard, before hurrying to the stage. I got to the stage door just in time to catch Carter. I slid my arms around him and kissed him hard, bringing the conversations among some nearby stagehands to a halt.
He smiled, momentarily confused by my sudden outburst, then kissed me back.
“You know I’m in love with you, right?” he whispered in my ear.
“I know.” I bloomed. “I love you too.”
From that point on, we learned to balance everything—though I have no idea how we did it. But Carter wasn’t the only one with a past.