Chapter 10
Braden and I saw each other several more times over the summer.
Between other music festivals and events, we had a lot of time together—and we met for late-night dinners whenever we could.
And, even though we didn’t talk about our feelings again or act on our impulses, I felt like we were growing far closer.
There was one dinner in August that made me fall for Braden even harder.
We both happened to be in Boston at the same time and made plans to meet on his day off.
After I finished my work for the day, we met at a cozy restaurant, this time my choice.
I’d only ever had French cuisine once before and wanted to treat my palate.
With a last name like French, I thought I needed to broaden my horizons past French fries and French toast.
Once we’d put in our orders, I asked Braden how things had been going. “You know, a tour’s a tour. There are fun parts about it, but you’re always moving.”
“You don’t like it?”
“No, I do. Just…it gets hard. It’s way better than when we were first on the road and we could barely afford to eat. We have a nice bus and we play to huge crowds. And it’s better nowadays with Zack not partying like he used to. How long are you gone from home at a stretch?”
Frowning, I tried to figure out the longest time I’d ever been gone at a time, while trying not to get lost in Braden’s gentle brown eyes. “Probably a week is the longest. Usually, I’m gone for, say, three or four days, then I come home for a day or two before going out again.”
“That’s gotta be rough too—but at least you can do your laundry at home.”
I wasn’t about to argue—but having to do laundry in the basement of my apartment building wasn’t exactly the height of living. “Do you ever do any sightseeing while you’re traveling?”
“Yeah. Not today, though. I caught a Red Sox game.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you were a baseball fan.”
“I’m not,” he said, laughing, and I joined him. “But everyone kept telling us we had to watch a game at Fenway Park, so I went with Cy. And, even though I’m not a baseball fan, I have to say it was a lot of fun.”
“Who won?”
“Boston.”
“Oh, that’s good. I imagine it wouldn’t have been as fun otherwise.”
“Yeah, I think that contributed to the energy.”
As he took a drink of his wine, I said, “Maybe I’ll have to do that sometime—watch a baseball game.”
“L.A. has a baseball team. That should be easy for you to do.”
“Yeah, but I always have so much to do at home. When I chill out, I go to the beach.”
Braden smiled. “I think that would be way better than going to a baseball game.” He put down his wine glass and stared at it for a few moments.
“The Arkansas River runs by the highway in Dalton, and I like to go there sometimes just to be away from everything else. That’s where I feel most connected to nature, especially in the spring when there’s more water flowing through it.
It’s one of my favorite places to be and I wound up renting an apartment nearby—so, when I’m home, I can walk there whenever I like. ”
“Oh, I love that. There’s this creek on my parents’ property in Montana where I used to play.
There are a few paths in through the evergreens that lead there, old trails blazed by cows by the guy who owned the property before my parents bought it.
And maybe other herd animals. I don’t know.
I was never a hunter like my dad and brothers.
That’s probably what I miss the most about home—being close to the trees and running water. ”
“Yeah, it’s hard to do that in the city sometimes. Parks are nice, but they’re not the same. They’re too neat and tidy. Nature’s messy sometimes.”
“Yeah, it is.” I loved that Braden and I had once again found something in common—something so much a part of my core that I hadn’t even thought about it.
“I like to head to the beach nowadays. It’s close enough and, even though there are usually lots of people, it feels so good.
Are you able to find nature retreats when you’re on the road? ”
“Maybe that’s what starts to wear me down when we’re touring.
It’s hard sometimes. When we have days off, that’s when we try to do things like that—but sometimes there are cool things to see in the cities that we don’t want to miss.
So I try to remind myself that we’ll probably be back there some other time. ”
“Yeah, pace yourself. You don’t want to see it all at once.”
“Honestly, though, I haven’t done much of that this tour. Maybe that’s why I’m so over it.”
“Then I order you to do more of that! It’s good for your soul.”
“Yeah, it is.” Braden gave me a soft smile as the server brought our food, and we wound up talking about it and other cuisines we loved. It turned out that evening’s dinner was a first for us both.
At the end of the meal, we split the tab at my insistence but Braden insisted on paying the tip. “I have a per diem,” he said as if that explained everything.
“Uh, so do I. I’m on assignment.”
At that, we both laughed and got up to leave. As we made our way through the tables, Braden took my hand in his and my heart felt like it was jumping for joy inside my chest.
Holy shit.
My smile grew so wide, and I imagined my face was lit up as if under a spotlight. This was the best way for this to happen and that Braden had finally felt strongly enough that he made a move told me he really did care.
But when we stepped outside, he saw—at the same time I did—a person close to the entrance holding a camera pointed straight at us.
And Braden dropped my hand like it was on fire.
We didn’t talk about it, but I knew the truth: he was still hiding, still remaining silent. And knowing he wanted me somehow didn’t soften the blow.
A week later, I’d just arrived back at my hotel in Orlando when I got a text message from Braden.
I’d been at a concert where I’d interviewed all three bands pre- and post-show, including attending the first hour of a huge tour kickoff party.
I was unusually tired, and I chalked it up to the time difference.
I might have been used to traveling, but working nonstop and processing jet lag meant I sometimes felt it harder than usual, especially when I’d just flown in that day.
But seeing the text from Braden managed to perk me up. Tonight I hadn’t wished him good luck or asked how the show had been, but I knew they were somewhere in either Wisconsin or Minnesota. His message was simple: Are you awake?
Despite the need to lay my head on my pillow, I wanted to talk to him, so rather than text him back, I called. When he picked up, I said, “Does this answer your question?”
“Yeah.”
“How was the show?”
“It was good. Good crowd. Sold out, enthusiastic. We had a little bit of a tech issue with one of the amps, but we got it ironed out by the second song.”
Sitting on the bed, I leaned over and started taking off my shoes. “So where are you guys now?”
“I’m in my bunk on the bus, and I was just lying here thinking about you.” Oh. That made me feel good. “What are you up to?”
“I’m gonna be writing a big article on Name of My Killer’s new album, especially since they have a new drummer—who, by the way, seems to be kicking major ass.”
“We toured with them a while back.”
“I think this new guy comes with a lot less drama,” I added, peeling off my socks and tucking them into my boots so I could deal with them later. “And they have some newbies as their opening act, a band called Intentional Chaos. Ever heard of them?”
“No.”
“They’re out of Salt Lake City, of all places.”
Braden asked, “Christian rock?”
“Nope. Just good old fashioned alternative metal.”
“I’ll have to look them up.”
“Yeah.” I put my legs up on the bed and eased back onto the pillows, relishing how good my feet felt with the pressure off. “They were pretty damn good, but kind of green, like they haven’t played live a lot.”
“Well, they’re in the right place to get good at it.”
“Yeah, for sure.”
A few seconds passed and I felt a wave of sleepiness.
As I sat up to make sure I stayed awake, Braden’s voice coming through the phone felt soft and…
something else. “Getting on stage used to scare the shit out of me. And it didn’t matter if there were ten people or a thousand.
It was hard putting myself out there, because I thought people would figure out I didn’t belong on that stage. ”
I couldn’t help the way my heart went out to him. “I remember feeling like that with my first couple of interviews. I mean…not being in front of a crowd but interviewing famous rock stars. Who the hell did I think I was?”
“Yeah, exactly.”
“When did you get over that?” I asked, shifting to sit cross-legged on top of the bed.
“When we were playing in Denver all the time. Especially when you have crowds that aren’t into you or don’t necessarily like you—like in a bar or something—you get over yourself fast. Once in a while, though…”
“You still feel imposter syndrome?”
He was silent for a few seconds. “Yeah, I guess so. Like who made me the expert?”
“You’re good at your job, Braden.”
“Maybe…but not as good as you.”
A soft chuckle escaped my mouth. “I wish I could talk to you forever, but I’m struggling to stay awake.”
“I should probably get to sleep too.”
“Sweet dreams,” I said, a smile on my face.
“They will be if you’re in them.”
That particular comment made sure my lips kept that smile until I did eventually drift off.
Before I saw Braden again, my youngest brother’s wedding meant that I’d see my whole family sooner rather than later.
The last time I’d seen them was for two days at Christmas—I’d flown in the morning of Christmas Eve and flew out on a red eye in the wee hours of the morning the day after Christmas.
Because I’d rented a car, I didn’t even have to have the awkward lingering goodbyes when I left.
This visit would be a little longer.