Every single word he spoke hit her squarely in the chest. It sounded selfish, but that just wasn’t her. “But I’ll be here for you,” she said, already aware that it sounded incredibly weak, juvenile, in light of his words.
“Yeah?” he said. “And how does that work? In real life. Not the movie version going on in your head, where you don’t work every goddamn hour of the day.”
Words failed her, refusing to come fast enough. Her arguments had made so much sense in her head on the plane.
“That’s what I thought,” Lennon said as he marched away from her to his door. He placed the key in the lock. “Fuck it.” He marched back toward her. “You want to know what goes on in my head? Where I go? Let me tell you what’s on replay right now. I should have expected it. I don’t deserve better. Nothing good ever lasts. Because I’m not fucking worth it. And the very idea of a day without you in it hurts me more than anything else I’ve gone through.”
“Lennon,” she whispered as she reached for his cheek.
“Don’t,” he said stepping out of her reach, his eyes red rimmed as her own tears spilled over. “Maybe I’ve spent the last twenty years pushing everyone away, but this is fucking why. It hurts too fucking much to hope for love. It hurts too much feel it, Gia. Don’t you get it? Those fucking pathways that never opened—the ones that form relationships? You opened them and I fucking hate you right now because this feels worse than opening a vein. This is more pain than I can fucking deal with, and I’ve already been through enough. So, I’m going home to my brothers. I’m going to tell them it hurts, and I’m going to let them help me heal. And I’m going to fucking wish every day that I could have convinced you to come with me.”
Before she could say a single word, he marched to his condo and slammed the door.
Move.
She willed herself to leave but couldn’t. Not with the heartfelt words Lennon had just spoken raining down on her. She lifted her face to the ceiling light as if his words were physical raindrops.
Her life flashed before her.
Waking in her condo alone, the hospital, her colleagues, her family.
Did any of these feel better than a single moment with Lennon?
Could any one of them fill the hole that losing Lennon had caused?
The tears began to fall faster as she realized that not only could they not, but that her life wasn’t the sum of all those pieces. Her grandfather wouldn’t want her to be unhappy in the condo just because he’d left it to her and not her father. Perhaps she should just sell it to her father and then never speak to him again. A vision of packing up all of the jazz vinyl and those damn bonsai trees in the trunk of her car appeared in her mind. She could keep her grandfather close in other ways that didn’t require bricks and mortar. Or they could keep it, have a caretaker visit it weekly so they could stay there whenever they were in New York. Plus, her grandfather had always spoken to her in the OR, he’d always be near. And if Dylan had been so willing to work miracles to make her a wonderful job offer, wouldn’t Sick Kids?
Wiping the tears from her cheek, she began to walk the few steps toward Lennon’s condo, rolling her suitcase behind her, and hammered on his door before remembering she had a key. Quickly she rummaged in her bag for it, buried in the bottom.
What if he kicks you out?
What if he doesn’t understand?
What if he doesn’t like your suggestion?
What if he doesn’t want you?
Thoughts bounced around in her head. Just like Lennon. God, what had she done?
She slammed the door shut. That was all the notice he was getting. “Lennon,” she shouted as she hurried through the living room, casting a glance toward the balcony and finding the doors locked.
He stepped out of the bedroom, hurt etched over his features.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wish I had a big gesture. But all there is is me. I love you, Lennon. With all my heart, I love you. So, if you go, I go.”
Lennon swallowed and bit his bottom lip as he looked at the floor.
“I mean it. The moment that door slammed, I knew what it felt like to not have you in my life. And that moment was unbearable.”
He took a step forward, his face emotionless, his hand in his pocket.
“It’s going to be difficult to leave. For all I’ve traveled, New York is the only place I’ve ever wanted to be. . . . But my grandfather isn’t here anymore, and your brothers are very much alive. I’ll focus on the things he taught me, the love he gave me, and take the time to go visit Montreal if I need to hear good jazz. It’ll take a little time to figure this out, to get visas and find work. Hell, it might take even longer for me to settle in, but it can work. And if you need to go back to Toronto immediately, we can deal with that too.” Words choked her.
Gently, Lennon placed his palms on her cheeks, cradling her face with tenderness. His gaze met hers. “I know this is a lot. Be certain,” he said. His expression of hope gave her the courage to go on.
With the heat of him touching her, she’d never been surer of anything else in her life. “I’m certain, Lennon. There is nothing that I have that I can’t rebuild or replace. Except you. You are the only irreplaceable thing in my life.”
His eyes searched hers, and she knew he was seeking the truth of her words. “When you knelt beside me on the bus that day and took my hand,” he said, his voice rough, “I felt it. You and me. But everything was so fucking bleak in my head. There are moments when it still is. But I remember asking you to let me go.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks, and Lennon brushed them away with his thumb.
“Now I’m begging you to keep hold of me. To not let me go. I’m not that man anymore, I promise, but I’m not who I’m meant to be yet either. I want to go on that journey of discovering who I am with you.” Lennon pressed his lips to hers. “I’m a better man with you than I ever was before. Let me prove to you that all this will be worth it. Let’s build a home together. Let me be your home, Georgia.”
“And I’ll be yours,” she promised. “I love you, Lennon.”
“I love you, Doctor Starr.” And then his kissed her, and she knew he’d understood.
EPILOGUE
Eighteen months later
“This might well be the dumbest fucking idea we’ve ever had,” Lennon said as he watched Georgia juggle Arwen in one arm and a plate of burgers in the other. They were all at Elliott’s home, the home they’d all once lived in together when they’d first made it big. He sat on the large family room sofa with Jordan, who was spinning the wedding ring on his finger.
Lennon had just gotten off his video chat with Jack, his long-distance therapist. Jack had reassured him that he had nothing to worry about, but now the idea of going live in front of millions of people instead of starting small again with a gig in front of a few thousand hard-core fans felt idiotic.
Jordan laughed. “No, I think Nik and Elliott win that for the ‘let’s break into the heavily secured liquor store with all those CCTV cameras to steal some alcohol’ idea.”
“Hey, I seem to recall you tried that once too,” said Elliott with a laugh as he shuffled Holly, his eleven-month-old daughter, on his lap while he placed his other hand on Kendalee’s pregnant stomach. The guy was obsessed with the thing, always touching it and patting it. Baby number two had been a surprise after years of heartache and fertility issues for Kendalee. Not intending to have another baby quite so soon, but knowing having a baby without medical intervention was almost impossible, they’d been lax with contraception. Now, with baby number two on the way, all Elliott could talk about was his super-sperm.
Lennon smiled. At one time he would have been envious of Elliott’s growing family, but now he simply admired it, respected it, and held the thought close that one day soon, he and Georgia would be lucky enough to grow their family the same way.
Sixteen-year-old Daniel walked by talking to his new girlfriend on his phone as he had been for the last two hours, and Holly sque
aled so loudly when she spotted him that he picked his baby sister up on his way by and kept walking while Holly drooled on his shoulder.
Petal clambered onto the sofa and began to play her favorite game, pressing down on the sensors on the fingertips of Lennon’s robotic hand. He couldn’t even begin to understand all the technology that made it possible for him to feel her pudgy fingers against his, but he thanked God every day that he could. And he was also grateful that his career allowed him to have a set of prosthetics here in Toronto and at Georgia’s apartment which they’d kept after her father’s failed legal attempt to take it from her. In a little while he’d be unscrewing the attachment and fitting his drumming one for tonight’s performance. Their first public performance since the crash.
The eight-month hiatus the band had planned had been extended to account for all of Lennon’s surgeries and recovery. None of his brothers could face the idea of writing new music without him. But when they’d finally got together in Elliott’s recording studio, the magic had returned. Perhaps it had been because to a man, they were re-energized, settled, and happy, but lyrics and music had poured from them.
Nik and Dred appeared from the basement, from the recording studio where it was all going to go down. “We’re all set,” Nik said, “so we can do this whenever we are ready.”
“Who’s going to post it to all our social media? Tell the fans and all that?” Dred asked.
Lennon felt as though he was going to hyperventilate. This was their plan, to just start streaming a live video from the basement. No promo. No big announcement or pay-per-view. Dred had referred to it as “starting over.” To just being five guys who loved music starting out in the garage of the group home all over again. Sure, this time it was a state-of-the-art recording studio. But it would just be them.
Pixie slipped under Dred’s arm and he hugged her close, his wedding ring catching the light from the fireplace. “I think Lennon should.”
“Why me?” Lennon asked as Georgia perched herself on the arm of the sofa. She looked pretty as a fucking picture in jeans and an old Preload tour tee that she’d tied in one corner.
“Because you are who they are all waiting for,” Jenny said, offering him the plate of chips and dips. He took a nacho chip and loaded it with guacamole.
“Did we miss it?” Maisey said as she bustled into the family room, Ellen close behind her as she shrugged off her coat and scarf. For November, it was pretty chilly. “She yelled to the guy holding the stop sign at the bottom of Spadina. Told him if she missed her son’s concert, she was coming back to haunt him.”
Lexi laughed. “You didn’t miss it. We were just trying to convince Lennon to post it on social media.”
“Fine,” he said, grabbing his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll do it.”
We’re back. Live session in fifteen. New sound. Who’s in? Watch it here.
He added the link.
“When are we on?” Nik asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Just like he always had.
Lennon couldn’t help but smile. “Fifteen.”
Dred kissed the top of Pixie’s head.
Elliott kissed Kendalee.
Jordan stood and moved to kiss Lexi, but Petal hurried to her feet and jumped in the middle. “No more kisses, Uncle Jordan,” she said, her little lisp making it sound more like “kith-es.” He picked her up and swung her into the air before covering her cheek with kisses as everyone else began to move downstairs to the recording studio.
Lennon let everyone go ahead, then reached for Georgia’s hand. “How was work today?” he asked as she turned to face him. He’d been waiting for her to arrive before they went live on the internet, but when she’d come in, she’d done what she always did, which was to throw herself into whatever their friends were doing. And he’d been happy to watch her.
“It was a good day,” she said, stepping up onto her toes to kiss him. It had taken six months for Georgia to secure a job at Sick Kids children’s hospital and for the appropriate visa paperwork to come. “We’re actually taking a referral from my old team in New York. They’re stretched and can’t do the surgery.”
Lennon’s heart squeezed even tighter at how she’d been able to maintain a relationship with the hospital that meant so much to her.
She held on to both of his hands, and he loved nothing more than the feel of it. He had a lot to thank Robson for. “Are you ready?”
It had taken him so long to get here. To get to the place where he could stand and face her and tell her the truth. “Yeah, I am.”
“I can’t wait to watch you,” she said. “I think I’m more excited than you are.”
He’d had a plan, but in an instant, he changed his mind. “I kind of have something bigger on my mind than what’s happening downstairs,” he said and pushed her hair back behind her ear.
“You do?” she asked. “Are you okay?”
His original plan had included finishing the show, but this, just the two of them at three twenty-two on a Wednesday afternoon, was perfect. He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out the ring he’d had made for her—traditional, like her, a classic oval cut diamond set in a band of smaller diamonds.
“What the . . . ?” Georgia slapped a hand across her mouth as the happiest fucking tears spilled over her eyes.
He dropped down on one knee, his heart beating furiously in his chest, and took her hand. “Georgia Anne Starr. Gia. Angel.” His voice cracked, but he didn’t give a fuck because he knew it wouldn’t matter to her in the least. She’d seen him work his way through his demons over the last eighteen months. She’d been there to hold him when he’d needed to cry, she’d helped him through when the anger felt overwhelming, and she’d soothed him when he felt lost. But it was her quiet determination and her willful spirit that he witnessed each and every day, and the way she loved him as fiercely as he loved her, that had him on his knee in his old living room. “I couldn’t have been any lower when I met you . . .” Fuck, all the words he’d planned scattered from his brain, and he couldn’t hold on to even one of them. Instead of trying to chase them, instead of trying to make them perfect, he focused on the one thing he’d learned over the last year—honesty. “You saved my life in every way that mattered that day. But all of the days since wouldn’t have mattered if you hadn’t been in them. I love you. It’s as simple and as complicated and as wonderful and as crazy as that. I love you,” he said with a smile. Georgia dropped to her knees to join him, her hands clasped to her chest.
“So, Georgia Anne Starr, will you be mine to love for the rest of our lives? Will you let me be yours? Will you marry me?”
Finally, she squealed. “Yes. YES! Of course I will.” She threw her arms around his neck without even letting him put the ring on, kissing him over and over.
Tenderly, he placed his hands on either side of her face and kissed her how he wanted to—less playful and more . . . more. Much more more. He slid his hands down her ass and gripped it, pulling it closer, and she moaned against his mouth. “Don’t you have a show in five minutes?”
“Fuck,” he complained. “I just want to take you home and make love with you while you wear nothing but this,” he said, sliding the ring onto her finger, where it cast rainbows against his black shirt.
She tilted her hand from side to side, admiring the ring. “I love it,” she said. “But you need to go.”
Lennon got to his feet and offered her his hand, helping her up off the floor. “Fine, but I am totally rain-checking my idea.”
They walked into the studio, and he subtly spun the ring around so the stone faced her palm. “Our secret until this is over?” he whispered.
Georgia nodded. “I’ll do my best, but I might just burst.”
She joined all the other women on the sofas and chairs. Daniel was standing behind Petal who had her face pressed up against the window separating the recording studio from the mixing desks. She was licking the glass, much to the amusement of Jordan.
He stepped inside
, and the noise level dropped significantly. The guys were ready and waiting. Silently, he walked over to the equipment specially adapted for him. Tama had been fucking amazing. He ran his fingers over the surface of his largest tom, his high hat, his cymbal.
Lennon took his phone out of his pocket and turned it to silent, but not before noticing that his post had garnered nearly five hundred thousand likes.
He unscrewed his hand and changed it out for his drumming hand. Once it was in place, he picked up his drumsticks, spinning the one in his right hand. He’d challenged Robson to make him a robotic hand that would enable him to spin the one in his left. They had a bet on whether he’d figure it out before the next tour started.
The volume in the other room decreased as Nik changed the setting to recording.
The cameras were mounted in the room, technicians on the other side of the glass.
“There’s nobody else I’d rather have spent the majority of the last two decades with than you four,” Dred said as he walked to the drum kit, his back to the cameras.
Elliott and Jordan flanked Dred’s left, Nik his right. New positions. New songs. New sound. New families.
“I don’t know,” Elliott teased. “Jordan was a bit fucking dull for the first ten years.”
Nik laughed. “You ready to count us in, Lennon?” he asked.
The lights came on the cameras that indicated they were live.
He grinned and raised his hands in the air.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
And when his sticks hit his skins, he realized they’d all made it.
He’d made it.
Lennon Reborn Page 24