Damaged But Not Broken

by Hearts Collective

  “Hey,” Savannah drawls, taking in the scene. Ben, Ryan and I are sprawled across three loungers, a number of empty beer bottles on the tiny tables surrounding us.

  “Hey babe,” I say, not making any move to get up. I’m not drunk by any means, but I definitely have a bit of a buzz.

  “Hey Savannah,” Ryan says appreciatively, not trying to cover up the fact that he’s checking her out. She’s dressed borderline inappropriate again, wearing a tight red mini-skirt, a nearly sheer white blouse and a pair of red stilettos.

  Ben jumps up and gives Savannah a peck on the cheek. “Sorry we’re still here. We’ll get out of your hair now,” he says apologetically, picking up some of the empty beer bottles.

  “Busy day?” she asks pointedly, but I pick up on the slight edge to her voice.

  “Actually, yes,” I say, sitting up. “We spent about four hours on our music and ended the day out here with a few beers.”

  Ben heads inside with his bottles, and Ryan, picking up on the tension, grabs his two empty bottles and follows Ben inside. I pick up my two empty bottles and stand up to follow the guys.

  Savannah is right on my heels as I dump the bottles into the recycling bin. Ben and Ryan reappear with their things from the office.

  “We’ll get out of your way guys,” Ben says, pulling out his keys.

  “So, I guess Blake hasn’t said anything to either of you?” Savannah asks, and I feel my body tense.

  “This is not the time, Savannah. We talked about this,” I warn in a low voice.

  Savannah pretends to ignore me. “I don’t think Blake is going to be able to do the tour,” she says sweetly.

  “Huh?” Ryan stares at me blankly, but I see Ben quickly make the connection in his head.

  “Not true,” I say quickly, “Savannah and I have some things to discuss,” and I hope my tone is final enough that everyone shuts up.

  “Catch ya later,” Ben says quickly, grabbing Ryan’s arm and pulling him down the hallway. I nod at the guys, as if trying to tell them that there’s no problem.

  Once they’re gone, I turn around and stare at Savannah.

  “How dare you pull that kind of shit in front of the guys?” My voice is tight and menacing.

  She shrugs carelessly, tossing her shiny hair over her shoulder. “If you’re not going to tell them, then I guess I will.”

  “I already told you, Savannah, that’s not happening. I’m going on this tour.”

  “Like hell you are!” she snaps.

  I sigh. No time like the present.

  “Have a seat,” I say quietly, gesturing to the kitchen table.

  “What?”

  “Take a seat.”

  She eyes me suspiciously and sits down.

  “I really don’t know how to say this, Savannah,” I start, and then I see her confused face twist into one of anger.

  “Don’t you dare,” she whispers, her eyes hard.

  “This isn’t working, Savannah, you know it’s not.”

  “It’s because of her,” Savannah says savagely. She's no fool.

  And that’s partly true, but I don’t dare admit to it. “Savannah, this is between you and I. You eventually want me to give up music and work for your dad. In fact, you’re ready for me to do it now, you’re just using Paige as an excuse.”

  She bites her tongue. I know she doesn’t like Paige, but I also know Savannah expects me to settle down and start pulling in big money like her daddy.

  “You’re going to be satisfied with this forever?” I ask, gesturing to her house. “A little townhouse? Christ, the money you spend now isn’t even ours, it’s your parents!”

  “So what! I make money, too!” she argues.

  “Savannah, it’s not even worth talking about. You and I are not meant to be.”

  “You are not ending things with me, Blake,” she hisses, “everything was fine until that little whore came along.”

  “She’s not a whore!”

  “You’re seriously going to defend her while you’re trying to break up with me?” she cries, jumping up. “You are not fucking doing this to me!”

  “Savannah, you can’t force me to stay with you,” I say patiently.

  “Tell me this has nothing to do with your precious Paige,” she jeers, baiting me.

  “What does that matter?” I say back, angrily. “The main thing is that I’ve realized that you and I aren’t right together. I can’t marry you, Savannah, and it’s better I tell you now than at the altar.”

  Her face quickly betrays her hurt and then she pulls herself back together.

  “I’m not letting you do this. As soon as you forget about that woman, you will realize that we are meant to be together. You are not going to humiliate me like this!”

  I soften my tone. “Savannah, I’m sorry, truly I am. And I do love you. It’s just, I see now that we’re not meant to be. This would have happened one way or another.”

  “So it is about her?” she demands, and I just don’t feel like lying.

  “Some of it, yes. I didn’t think I would ever see Paige again. A lot of my old feelings resurfaced, and it’s not fair to you. I need to be alone so I can sort out my feelings.”

  “Alone my ass! What a bunch of crap! Do you know how many guys would love to be with me?” she yells, standing up and kicking over a chair. “But I love you, Blake! I’ve loved you since I first saw you sing. You mean more to me than any other man. I am begging you not to do this.”

  And then she runs to our bedroom, slams the door and proceeds to sob uncontrollably.

  “Well, fuck,” I breathe, sinking back into a kitchen chair. I’m half tempted to run in there and tell her everything is alright, because I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen Savannah cry. She never cries, and sitting here alone in my kitchen, I wonder if I’ve made the right choice.

  Am I really meant to be with Paige? Or did I imagine everything between us? Am I still hung up on a girl I loved when I was fifteen? Am I really in love with the new Paige, or just the idea of the old one? What I would really like to do right now is go directly to Paige and reconfirm all of my feelings for her, and all the things she said to me.

  I’ve created a life with Savannah, and now I’m throwing it away over a woman who has only been back in my life for less than two months.

  But it’s Paige.

  I jump up and stalk out to the patio because I can no longer stand the sound of Savannah's sobbing.

  Before I can contemplate whether I’m making a terrible mistake, Savannah comes out on the patio looking more humble than I’ve seen her. She’s wearing a tank top and shorts, a rather modest outfit for her. Her eyes are red and ringed and I can see the smudged lines of mascara where she’s wiped at her face.

  “I can’t force you to stay with me,” she whispers, “and I have more pride than that. If this is really what you want, then I’ll get my stuff together and be out of here in a few days.”

  She starts to pull her engagement ring off, but I stop her. I feel awful. I’ve never seen her so defeated before. It was easier when she was angry.

  “No, I can’t take that back. It’s yours Savannah. Keep it, sell it, either way it belongs to you.”

  She nods and sniffles, walking back towards the door. She stops and turns around. “I know I’m a bit overbearing,” she admits, “but I can try harder.” She doesn’t wait for my answer and goes back into the house.

  Feeling like the world’s biggest douche bag, I put my head down on the patio table and wonder what I’ve just done.

  ~~~

  I haven’t talked to Paige, or seen her in three days. The last time we spoke was our quick and happy reunion at her house when she confessed that she wanted to be with me and she was tired of fighting it. I had joyfully left her house, ready to go home and break things off with Savannah.

  Except, once I did try to end things with Savannah, she was more remorseful and sensitive than I had ever seen her.

  Needless to say it was
a pretty rotten day.

  Savannah was home with a stomachache, and I was heading over to the Clipper to see Paige perform. She didn’t know I was coming and it was probably better that way.

  I sneak into the back and watch Paige rock the stage. Like always, she blows me away and I feel sick over everything that has happened the past few days. After she finishes, I wait for her to make her way out into the club and then I wave at her to catch her attention.

  Her face breaks into a grin, and she hurries over to me. I admire her lacy tank top and tight jeans. She looks happier than I’ve seen her in a long time.

  “Hey,” she says breathlessly, sitting next to me. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight!”

  “I know it’s unexpected. Sorry about that.”

  “You don’t ever have to apologize for showing up,” she says, gently resting her hand on top of mine.

  I carefully pull my hand out from under her hand, and Paige’s face instantly becomes confused. She stares at me for a few seconds, then her face falls and she sits back in her chair to survey me.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” she says flatly.

  “Christ, Paige,” my voice is ragged with emotion. “I tried to end things with Savannah, I did, but it just was so different from what I expected.”

  Paige blinks rapidly and I realize she’s fighting back tears. I’m a total asshole.

  “But she was sorry and she admitted to being a total bitch and she promised she was going to change things. I just feel like I have to give her a second chance. We have a history,” I add feebly.

  Paige bites her lip, and nods, still not saying anything.

  “Please, say something.”

  “There’s nothing to say,” she whispers.

  “Paige, please. Be angry or pissed off, or something!”

  “I let my guard down,” she chokes, “I knew better.”

  I don't have time to say anything else before she bolts from the table, grabs her guitar and hurries out of the bar.

  I jump up and run after her, chasing her out into the parking lot.

  “Paige! We can’t leave things like this! We need to talk!”

  Paige whips around, her eyes flashing. “There is nothing left to talk about Blake! Please don’t rub salt in my wounds by trying to be apologetic. Just leave me alone!”

  I stand there, shocked, not realizing that I was only making things harder for Paige.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  Paige’s face contorts in pain, and then she jumps into her car and drives away.

  I stand there in the parking lot, feeling even worse than I thought I would. I had played with Paige’s emotions and I knew how fragile she was. And the awful thing is that I still fucking love Paige, but I feel like I owe it to Savannah to try to work on things.

  I drive home thinking of the two women who I love and keep hurting, and I wonder when I’ll be able to stop fucking up and make the right choice.

  Was I really doing the right thing by trying to work on things with Savannah? Would I be happier and better off with Paige? At least Savannah had given in and said I could go on tour with Paige.

  I pull my truck into the driveway and turn off the engine. I sit there for a while, feeling cut up over Paige’s expression when she got into her car.

  I quietly let myself into the house, expecting to find Savannah curled up on the couch where I left her. I realize that I probably should have brought her home something to make her feel better, but it’s too late for that now.

  Instead, I hear Savannah talking on the phone and I can hear her rummaging around the kitchen.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she says dismissively, “I told him I had a stomach ache and he left the house. Whatever.” She laughs and there’s a pause. “Right! Like hell he was going to dump me. I consented and told him he could go on tour with that bimbo, but I’m not any idiot. All I had to do was cry a bit, act contrite and tell him I’ll stop being a bitch. He was eating out of the palm of my hand!” She lets out a huge laugh.

  Me. She’s talking about me. My head spins. It was all a fucking act. She said all those things, cried all those fake tears just to prevent me from breaking up with her and embarrassing her.

  I see red and I can feel the blood pounding in my veins. I reach out to the wall to steady myself. I take a few deep breaths and then walk into the kitchen.

  FIFTEEN

  Paige

  Burned

  I spend the next four days holed up in my part of the house, churning out music and crying my eyes out. I’m not sure what I expected, but I have only myself to blame for the turn of events. I should have stayed away from Blake, I should have kept my distance, I knew he was engaged. I played with fire and I got burned.

  My dad knows something is wrong, and I have no idea whether or not he suspects drama with Blake. He’s kindly kept his distance and had the housekeeper stock my fridge with plenty of food so I don’t have to venture into the main part of the house unless I want to.

  Blake has tried calling me multiple times a day, and today is the first day that he hasn’t called, which is a relief. My momma has called a few times and I wonder if my dad asked her to call me. Either way, she left a few messages saying that she hoped things were going well.

  Becky has emailed me a list of our tour dates and cities and I printed it out and tacked it on my fridge. Our tour is in ten days, and I'm torn about having to spend so much time around Blake. We would be performing in the same clubs and venues, and would be sleeping in the same hotel. My dad would be with us for the first week and a half, and once things were running smoothly, he was leaving us in the hands of one of his capable managers.

  My dad had also set me up with an appointment with a personal stylist. Jami, the stylist was due to arrive in about ten minutes. I wasn’t looking forward to our appointment, but I had showered and dressed anyway, not giving much care to how I looked.

  I head into the main part of the house so I can greet Jami when she arrives and lead her back to my room. The doorbell rings right on time, and I pull the door open. Jami stands there, smiling broadly, looking nothing like I had imagined.

  I had pictured some stuck up Nashville girl, with big hair and flashy in-your-face fashion style, but she’s dressed in casual jeans with a lavender silk top. Her hair is cut into a long bob and she looks only a few years older than me.

  “Paige?” she asks.

  “Umm, yes. Hi.”

  “Hi! I’m Jami. So nice to meet you.”

  “You too. Come on in, please.”

  She follows me inside, toting a large plum leather bag.

  “Great house,” she comments.

  “Thanks. My dad has done very well for himself. My room's this way.”

  I lead her down the long hallway which branches off into various rooms like my dad’s office, the small library, and the movie room.

  We walk through a bright sitting room that overlooks the patio and pool, and then we step into my portion of the house.

  “Very nice in-law suite,” she says appreciatively. I lead her to my small living room and motion for her to put her bag down.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “A water would be great, thanks.”

  I disappear into the kitchen and return with two waters.

  “Alright,” she says, pulling out some files and a notepad. “I don’t know much about you other than what your dad’s secretary told me.” She does a once-over and I wonder if I should have made more of an effort.

  “I don’t usually look like this. I just kind of showered and got dressed,” I say, feeling like I need to explain my appearance.

  Jami nods. “So, tell me a little bit about your style.”

  Hmm. I’m not much of an authority in the style department, but I give it a go. “Well, I’m not really big into style,” I admit. “I just moved here from Bristol, so I felt like I needed a bit of a wardrobe update. I gravitate to sundresses when I’m just hanging out,”
I stop myself. “But I guess that’s not what you care about.” I sigh. “I usually wear dresses when I perform, or jeans and a nice blouse. I can show you what I have in my closet.”

  “That would be great,” Jami says encouragingly. “And don’t worry,” she adds, “I’m not here to judge you. I know this probably feels weird. I’m just here to build up your wardrobe a bit, and help you define a more definite style for when you’re onstage.”

  I feel a little more at ease as I show Jami to my closet.

  “Nice,” she exclaims, going through my clothes. “You have a lot of really nice pieces.”

  We spend the next hour and a half, going through my clothes and Jami shows me some pictures of a few shirts and dresses she wants to add. She takes some Polaroids of great outfits, and places them in a small binder for me so I have pre-made outfits that I can pick out while on tour. I have to admit that it’s pretty cool, and I like being able to flip through a book to decide on what outfit to wear.

  Jami has some photos of me performing on stage, though I’m not sure who took them or when, but she likes what I do with my hair and makeup so she’s not worried about that.

  Jami pushes herself off the floor by my closet and smiles again. “This will be easy,” she assures me. “I’ll come back with some pieces to fill out your wardrobe and then take the remaining pictures. You will have plenty of outfits to cover your tour. And I think keeping it sweet and natural, with just a bit of sexy is the perfect look for you. You want to show off your assets, but in a tasteful way, you know?”

  I can live with that, and this has been more fun than I had hoped.

  “Thanks again for your help." I say. "I’m glad I’m not as hopeless as I feared.”

  Jami shakes her head. “Not hopeless at all.” She lowers her voice and makes a face. “You should see some of the closets I’ve had to work with.”

  I laugh and she gathers up the rest of her things. I walk her to the door and she promises to be back at the end of the week with the rest of the clothes. I should probably worry about what this is costing my father, but I figure he’s writing it off as a business expense.

  I close the door behind her and walk into the kitchen to grab a snack. I hear a knock at the door and figure Jami forgot something. I pull the door open to see Blake standing there, looking like hell.