“Tell yourself whatever you need to hear.” His eyes burned in anguish. “But we both know the truth, and being apart is ridiculous bullshit!”
“No, it’s my choice. And you know what else is my choice? Whether I stay with this band or not.”
“Wait, what?” Gayle looked panicked.
“Yeah, you heard me. You sort out your shit, Micah, or I walk.”
Everyone stared at each other.
“Guys, you need to get back out there!” the stage manager shouted.
“Well?”
“Fine!” Micah bullied past me and stormed up the stage steps.
I shared an exhausted look with the boys and we hurried after him.
As soon as I hit those lights, I plastered on a big smile and waved for the crowd. We immediately broke into the song that had exploded us into the stratosphere when it became the lead song on the soundtrack to a huge teen dystopian movie. Usually when I sang it, I plugged into how I felt sitting in the movies that first time, hearing our song on the end credits of a box-office hit. It was the kind of moment I clung to, to remind myself there were moments where all the stuff I hated about my life seemed almost worth it.
That night I could barely focus on the lyrics, let alone that feeling.
I got through it, trying not to buckle under the weight of failure. Not only did I hate this life I was so sure I’d wanted, but I was failing at it. Because of a toxic teen romance. We were a fucking cliché.
The relief was unreal as I walked off that stage. I shot past everyone, heading straight for my dressing room.
It hadn’t even closed behind me when it burst open and Micah stormed in.
“Are you kidding me with this?” I hissed.
“I’m only here to say one thing. Don’t threaten the band because of us. It’s an empty threat.”
“Meaning?”
“You would never quit the band because it isn’t in you to give up.” His expression softened. “It’s one of the things I admire most about you.”
I shook my head, feeling an overwhelming sadness embrace me. “I might give up. If it begins to hurt too much.”
Micah immediately looked ashamed. “I fucked up,” he whispered. “Again. I . . . I get stuck in my own head and I don’t think. I didn’t think. I . . . I pissed all over you like a big dumb dog. And I messed up.”
I nodded, my anger softening at his apology. “You promise this is behind us? That this won’t happen again?”
After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded and turned to leave. But then he had to look back over his shoulder at me. “I’ll never stop loving you, even if you never stop punishing me for that night.”
As soon as he walked out, my whole body sagged. I slid down the wall, pulling my knees into my chest. My head buzzed like always with the sound of the crowd. I went to bed after gigs and that’s all I could hear as physical exhaustion drove me into sleep. Sometimes the crowd was all I could hear when I woke up the next morning too.
And now, whispering through the chaotic hum of the crowd, I could hear Micah’s whisper repeating over and over, “I’ll never stop loving you. I’ll never stop loving you. I’ll never stop loving you.”
The messed-up thing was, as much as it hurt, I knew it would hurt worse if he ever actually did stop loving me.
I wanted to call my mom and tell her all about it. But then I’d remembered the time she sold her car and bought this cheap little thing that kept breaking down and making her late for work. And she did that so she could pay for me and Micah to go to California with the band for this spotlight competition we auditioned for. We got to play for a real label. We were only fifteen.
We didn’t win a record contract.
But she never stopped having faith. Brandon’s parents were so mad about it, they sold his drums and said we couldn’t practice in his basement anymore.
So my mom worked overtime for three months while we all got part-time jobs after school. And between us and Mom, we saved enough to buy new drums for Brandon. She also stopped parking her crappy car in the garage and let us soundproof it so we’d have a place to practice.
I remembered her yelling at Bryan that he could pack his stuff and leave if he wasn’t prepared to support me. He did leave. She cried for days. I didn’t like the guy, but I was never so relieved as I was when he came back.
Still, she’d almost lost the one man she’d fallen for since my dad died, and it would’ve been my fault.
Every hardship, every month we struggled to pay the bills, it was because of me.
All our conversations, our planning, my guitar and singing lessons, everything was about me.
About my dream.
Three years of struggle because I wanted to be the lead singer in a professional rock band.
And we did it.
Only for me to no longer want it.
How could I tell her that? And how could we talk now without her realizing that I was miserable? This was my mom, my best friend. She’d know. She’d know.
Worse still, she had a good life now. I bought her a beautiful big house, an SUV, she had no mortgage, and a monthly stipend I paid into her account. I had plenty of money and a great financial adviser that invested it, but I knew my mom . . . if I left the band, she’d go back to worrying about money.
I didn’t want that for her.
I didn’t want Bryan to say “I told you so” and for her to have to hide the disappointment she felt at my failure.
And then there was Micah. I’d sacrificed our love for our band and now we were so messed up, there was no fixing us. I couldn’t hate this life after choosing it over him.
It was too much. I wasn’t thinking clearly, I—
The door to my dressing room opened and Gayle poked her head in. She frowned at the sight of me on the floor and stepped in, closing the door behind her. “I’m worried, Skylar. What’s going on? What do you need?”
“I need a break,” I blurted. “I need to be alone for a while.”
“Where do you want to go?” She pulled her phone out.
“Somewhere quiet. Secluded.”
“And that’s all you need?”
I felt her anxiety and hurried to assure her. “I’m not leaving the band, Gayle. I just need a break.”
A break would help. I’d feel better after time apart from the guys.
But the next morning as my phone exploded with notifications, including missed call after missed call from my mom, I knew a break wouldn’t help. My anger toward Micah was building and building as I stared at the multiple photos, taken from different angles, of him kissing me on stage. They were all over the internet. The fans loved it.
I stared at one particular shot, taken from someone close to the stage.
It looked like something from a movie. Micah kissed me with so much longing that an ache for him pierced my lividness.
But only momentarily.
Because it might look like a kiss of pure longing, but I’d tasted it. Tasted his petty wrath and immaturity in that kiss.
And I wondered what this life we’d chosen would be like if Micah and I could break this toxic bond between us.
Then I hightailed it to a summerhouse in Norway, hoping some space would make me feel less crazy about everything.
Present day
Glasgow, Scotland
I GLANCED AWAY FROM THE Hydro, from the memories there. Just a few weeks after hiding out in Norway, I’d returned home to my mom and had that stupid argument with her only for her creepy husband to come on to me.
Instead of the guilt I usually felt, anger suffused me.
I never saw it coming. Not once had Bryan ever made overtures toward me. Looking back, I remember he’d compliment me more than he used to but I thought he was being a douchey sycophant.
It was his fault I felt this guilt. He’d put me in the untenable position of either having to break my mother’s heart and gain her anger, or keep the secret from her. I chose wrong.
The secret tore us apart anyway.
“‘Oh, I wish that I had told you, all the truths locked inside me, instead of cutting you out, like a knife through our lives,’” I sang softly under my breath. Tears burned in my eyes.
There was no going back, I realized.
All these months of hiding, some crazy part of me held onto some hope that I could go back and fix everything. But I couldn’t. She was gone and there would never be any closure. The only way to get through that, I thought, sucking in a shuddering breath, was to believe with every bit of light left within me that my mom died knowing I loved her. That I loved her the best. Always.