Losing Us

by Jen McLaughlin

  He stepped back, motioning me inside. “Sure.”

  His tone was so…so…cool. So controlled. He seemed okay, and that hurt, because I wasn’t okay at all. I was a hot mess. I walked past him, tugging my hat lower. He shut the door and leaned against it, crossing his arms. His muscles flexed as he did so, showing off that ink I’d loved from the first moment I saw him.

  We locked eyes, and I opened my mouth, but I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t.

  He cocked a dark brown brow. “What’s up?”

  “Y-Your phone.” I dug in my purse, my pulse racing full speed ahead. “I have it. You left it at my place when…”

  “When I left,” he supplied when I didn’t finish. He pulled an iPhone out of his pocket. The screen lit up, and I saw his background was a picture of him and Rachel. It used to be him and me. Mine still was. I couldn’t bring myself to delete it. “I got a new one, and a new number. It was time to lose some old contacts.”

  Like me. “O-Oh. Okay.” I slid the old phone across the table next to me, my finger lingering on it. I almost wanted to keep it. It was some small part of him I could hold on to. “I have your shoes too…”

  He flinched and tugged his hat down. It was black and plain. It looked new. “Yeah. Running off barefoot, in hindsight, was not the best idea I’ve ever had.”

  “Speaking of which…” I took his shoes out of my bag and set them down. The only thing left of him in my bag was his hat. “Is it bad?”

  He walked past me and sat down on the chair in the room. Lifting his foot, he winced and grabbed a hold of it. “I can barely stand, to be honest. Tonight’s gonna be rough…” Lowering his head, he mumbled, “In more ways than one.”

  “Austin…”

  “Don’t get that concerned tone in your voice. I know that tone all too fucking well.” He collapsed back against the chair. “I’m fine.”

  Fine. Such an ambiguous term. One I’d used just moments before.

  Pressing a hand to my throat, I fingered my necklace. The one he’d given me for Christmas. It had a little music note on it and was white gold. “Good.”

  “Yeah. Good.”

  I swallowed hard, standing there awkwardly, staring at him. He stared at his foot, his head lowered. “I wasn’t sure you’d come. Or if you were okay.”

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d come.” He lifted his head and locked eyes with me. The pain in his blue eyes almost sent me staggering back. But then he blinked, and it was gone. “Or if you were okay.”

  Closing my eyes, I shook my head once. “Honestly? Not really.”

  “Yeah.” He stood. “Me neither.”

  We fell silent, watching each other again. As if each of us waited for the other to crack first. The room was fraught with tension, pain, and regret. So much regret. If he gave me even the slightest indication that he was miserable and wanted me back, I’d launch myself in his arms and hold on tight. And I’d never let go.

  But he didn’t.

  “Oh, and your hat.” I pulled it out, handing over my last excuse to be in this room with him. “I washed it, and it’s as good as new. No stains.”

  He reached out with a trembling hand and took it, swallowing hard enough for me to see his Adam’s apple bob. Taking off his black hat, he settled his Redskins one over his head. “Thank you. That…it means a lot to me.”

  “I know,” I whispered. “And you’re welcome.”

  He glanced at the black hat, then tossed it at me. “Here. You can have this. Maybe you can try something besides those big country hats every once in a while.”

  Catching the hat out of reflex, I stared down at it. It probably smelled like him. My grip on it tightened. “I like my big country hats.”

  “Yeah. I know.” His phone rang, and he glanced down at it. When he saw who it was, he frowned. “I have to take this. So…?”

  “Right.” I nodded and headed for the door, feeling worse than before I’d entered, which was saying a lot. The hat came with me. “See you out there.”

  “Are we still doing the duet?” he asked, his voice rough.

  I froze, my hand on the knob. He referred to the song we’d recorded together. It was a sweet country song, and Austin’s voice even held the appropriate amount of twang needed when he sang it. He’d come out at the end of my set, join in, and we’d close out the show together. It had been, up until now, my favorite part of every show.

  No. No, no, no, no. “Do you want to?”

  He shrugged, looking unconcerned. He’d have looked livelier if we had been discussing the stocks or the weather. “They’ll be watching to see. If we don’t, they’ll just blast all over the news how horrible we’re both dealing with the breakup.”

  “Then we’ll do it.” I opened the door and walked out.

  He lifted his phone to his ear and said, “Hello?”

  As I closed the door, I peeked inside. I was starved of his face, and I needed to see him one last time. He took his hat off and rubbed his forehead, the mask he’d worn around me dropping. And what I saw, the stark exhaustion and pain in his face, almost sent me running back inside that room.

  But I closed the door instead.

  MACKENZIE WAS trying to kill me. Okay, she might not be trying...but she was. She really was. I was barely holding my shit together, and she was out there giving the performance of her career. She was okay, and I was a hot fucking mess.

  How was that fair?

  How was any of this fair?

  My phone buzzed in my hand, and I glanced down at it. Barry, the owner of the bar I worked and performed at, was calling. He’d kind of been the father I’d never had, since I didn’t count my actual father. He’d been a dick, and nothing more.

  Barry had been so much more.

  Gripping my phone, I turned my back to the stage and Mackenzie, who I couldn’t stop watching even though it hurt like hell, and walked behind a big speaker. My heart thudded in my ears, washing out Mackenzie’s song. I was sitting by the side stage, waiting for my cue to come on with her. It should be any minute now.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, you called?” Barry asked. I could hear the bar noises behind him, and it made me homesick. “Sorry, was working in the cooler.”

  “Yeah. I had a question.”

  I tried to think of the best way to phrase it…and apparently took too long. After a little pause, Barry said, “And it was…?”

  “The other night, I came in with a girl.”

  “I remember,” Barry said, his voice deep with disappointment. “I told you that you were being a fool. You laughed and walked off, like the cocky son of a bitch you are.”

  “I should have listened,” I muttered.

  “When do you ever listen?” Barry asked, his voice tinged with amusement.

  “Did I… Did I do anything… Did I…?”

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  I sagged against the wall, my heart pounding in my chest. “Are you sure? One hundred percent positive?”

  “Yes, of course.” He snorted. “Do you think I’d let you do something so stupid as to cheat on that sweet little girl? Who do you think I am?”

  I closed my eyes, the nausea that had been plaguing me since yesterday sinking low in my stomach and dissipating. “How do you know, though? She could have come over to my place once I went home.”

  “No, she couldn’t have. I walked you home and crashed on your couch, in case you got sick.” Glasses clanked, and he muttered something to someone. “I knew Rachel was at a friend’s house, so I didn’t want you to die in a puddle of vomit or something. You might be a rock star now, but doesn’t mean it’s gotta end like that. You were never alone with that girl, as much as she might have hoped otherwise.”

  “Oh thank fucking God. I could kiss you right now.”

  “Why would you think you did anything, anyway?” Barry closed a door behind him. Probably his office door, considering how much quieter the background noise got. “You love Mac, right?”

  “I know, but…�
�� I rubbed my forehead. “I said some stupid things that night, and she…she broke up with me. And since I’d said those things, I’d worried that maybe I’d done more than talk. That I’d been a monster.”

  Like father, like son.

  Barry sighed. “Nah. You just blubbered on like a drunk fool. I don’t know how you got so drunk and slurred so fast, to be honest. You didn’t have that much.”

  I dropped my head back against the speaker. Closing my eyes, I fought the urge to kick myself in the nuts. “I don’t know, man. All I know is I don’t remember saying any of that stuff, except in bits and pieces. I was really fucked up from what I can piece together.”

  “Tell her you love her and can’t live without her, and tell her you’re sorry.” Barry sighed. “That always works, man.”

  “I tried all of that. It didn’t change a damn thing.” I turned around and watched her on stage. She was on her game tonight, as if nothing had happened to us. It only proved… “She’s done.”

  “But—”

  She started her last song before I came out, so I cut him off. “Look, I have to go. I’m almost up. Thanks, man, for letting me know I slept alone that night.”

  “You’re welcome. But you should tell—”

  I hung up on him, my jaw tight. I didn’t need to tell her anything. I’d done what I’d done, ruined what I’d ruined, and it was over. I just had to get through tonight, and then I could move on and try to pick up the pieces of my life.

  Without her.

  I walked toward the side stage again, my whole body screaming out in protest. Everything hurt. My feet. My legs. My arms. My head. And worst of all…my heart. My heart hurt so fucking bad that I’d consider offering it to science just to make it stop.

  It wasn’t just the physical pain I was in, because I was. A lot. But it was the fact that if I went out there on that stage and sang with her about love…

  A small part of me might die.

  By the time I’d finished my set earlier, I’d been more relieved to get off the stage than ever before, and I didn’t want to go back on. Girls had yelled up to me how I was single now, and they were, too, and it made me sick. I didn’t want to be single, damn it.

  I wanted Mackenzie.

  But she didn’t want me. Not anymore.

  All because I’d been a dumbass who’d made a silly, stupid, horrible mistake that had cost me everything. If I hadn’t gotten wasted, you could damn well bet none of this would’ve happened. I’d never had said those stupid things to some girl in a bar, Mac wouldn’t have read the article, and Diane wouldn’t have felt welcomed enough to wait for me in my dressing room topless.

  I leaned against the speakers and watched Mac sing, my heart somehow beating rapidly in my chest after all it had been through. She danced around the stage, singing her heart out, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was perfectly happy.

  Hell, maybe she was.

  She’d said she was breaking it off with me for me, but what if she was doing it for her? What if she’d been the one who wanted to be free, and she’d just used my drunken escapades as an excuse to get it? I stiffened, watching her closer.

  Maybe her act wasn’t an act at all.

  Perhaps she was fucking fine, unlike me. She kicked her leg up and danced across the stage, belting out her tune about dancing all night long to her own song. It had a fun, wild, free beat to it. Maybe she’d picked it for a reason.

  Maybe I was the only miserable one here.

  After walking for a few miles with bare feet, across wet pavement and jagged rocks, I’d pretty much thought I hit rock bottom. But then I’d stumbled into a bar, gotten drunk, and called a cab…and realized I had nowhere to go. I was barefoot, phoneless, girlfriendless, and I’d lost Mac.

  That had been rock bottom.

  It had been when I realized I’d ruined every good thing in my life. I still had Rachel, yes, but eventually she’d go off to college. Start a great career. Get married and have kids. And I’d be the loser brother she invited over for Christmas.

  I was that guy.

  After sleeping off the massive hangover I’d gotten from my little drinking binge, I’d gone out, gotten clothes and shoes, a new phone with a new phone number so Diane didn’t have my contact info anymore, and tried to straighten my shit up.

  But damn it, I missed her.

  She ended her song with a high kick and a yell, grinning when everyone cheered her on. Bowing, she took her hat off and tossed it into the crowd like she always did at the end of a show. I hated those damn hats, so I liked when she got rid of them.

  Some teenaged girl caught it, hugging it to her chest and crying. I’d have the same reaction if Mac looked at me right now and told me she loved me.

  She did look at me, but simply to signal me to come out when she finished her speech. I nodded to her once and straightened my green shirt over my stomach. Stepping up to the mic, she tapped her fingers on the side nervously and pulled it out of the stand. As she sat down on one of the two stools that had been placed on the stage as Mac threw her hat into the crowd, she shook her knee uneasily.

  Her mic was covered in jewels. Mine, like usual, was plain black. My stool was directly next to hers. So close that our legs would touch.

  “So, as you all know, Austin Murphy is here with me.” The crowd went wild, and she paused, letting them. Once they quieted, she smiled and nodded. “I know, right? But he’s here, and we’re going to sing our song that will be on both of our upcoming albums. Give him a warm, happy Tennessee welcome.”

  The crowd went wild, and I stepped out, waving and smiling as I went. As I walked up to Mac, I nodded at her once, tugged my hat down, and pulled my mic out.

  Time to sing the song that talked about how strong our love was, and how we’d never give up on one another. When we’d recorded this song, we’d been so happy. So in love, and so together, and now we were neither of those things.

  It felt wrong to sing it while feeling this way, but I’d do it for her.

  Anything for her.

  “Thank you, everyone. And thank you, Mackenzie.” I cleared my throat and sat down. My guitar sat in a stand against my stool, but I didn’t pick it up. I couldn’t look away from her. She watched me with those green eyes that were so bright under the lights that it hurt to see them, so I looked away. “You ready to hear our song ‘All In’?”

  They cheered, and I picked up my guitar, slinging it over my shoulder. As I strummed the first chords, Mac straightened her back and tapped her foot to the beat.

  The show must go on, after all.

  As I hit the end of the last chord, I nodded, and we both started singing right on cue.

  You, my love,

  Are my love.

  When I saw you, that night,

  I gave in to you without a fight.

  And I know why, now.

  Yes, I know why.

  Without you, the world is black.

  With you, I never wanna go back.

  Oh, no, I never wanna go back.

  Like a game of cards, baby.

  I’m all in, my love.

  I’m all in.

  As we finished that verse, I glanced over at her to make sure we were still okay with the rhythm. After I did, I wished I hadn’t. Tears streamed down her face, and I almost threw the guitar aside and hugged her, but I kept playing. And we kept singing.

  Every. Fucking. Word.

  By the time we reached the end, the crowd was silent and cameras were snapping pictures. It wasn’t until I swiped a forearm across my cheek that I realized they were wet. Hell, had I been crying too? I didn’t fucking cry.

  Shit, I hadn’t cried since the night my dad had tried to kill my baby sister.

  I didn’t think I even knew how. Not really. Standing up, I let my guitar hit the stage with a loud crash and stormed off without looking at Mac or the crowd. The whole time I walked, flashes went off without mercy. This was going to be all over Twitter within seconds. Fuck, fuck, fuck. If she s
aw me…if she knew…

  I’d fucking die.

  I heard Mac say a few quick words, and then heard her footsteps behind me. I hurried my steps, refusing to turn around. Refusing to let her see my shame.

  “Austin!”

  I shook my head and swiped my hands across my cheeks, removing any evidence of my weakness. It hurt too much to hear her voice. To know she was behind me. To know she’d seen me at my frailest. “Go away, Mac. Just go away.”

  “But—”

  “Damn it, Mac,” I growled. Spinning around, I trapped her against the wall, kissing her with all the pain, anger, and disappointment I felt right now—which was a hell of a lot. She pushed at my shoulders for a brief second, then curled her hands in my shirt and pulled me closer. Our tears mingled until I didn’t know whose were whose.

  But it didn’t matter.

  By the time I pulled back, her sweet taste forever emblazoned upon my brain, I was fucking lost. More so than ever before. I didn’t know what to do in a world with no Mackenzie Forbes. But I let go of her anyway, because I didn’t really have a choice. Not anymore. “I had to do that one last time before I walk away for good. I can’t be around you anymore. I can’t be there, singing with you, and be okay with it. I just can’t.”

  She bit down on her lower lip. “I can’t either.”

  “Then it’s settled. No more duets. No more shows. No more…anything.”

  Closing her eyes, she wrapped her arms around herself. “This was the last one we had scheduled publicly. Your gig in Florida didn’t have my name on it, officially.”

  “Right.” It had been our planned surprise for the local crowd, an impromptu show together at Captain Crow’s. I swallowed hard, dipping my head so she couldn’t see my face. I didn’t want her to see me right now. Hell, she’d never see me again, really. “So it’s done.”

  “I can take the song off my album.” She hesitated. “If you don’t want me to use it anymore.”

  “I don’t give a damn what you do with the fucking song.”

  She flinched. “Okay.”