“I wasn't thinking.” I push into a stand, slinging my pillow across the back of the bus. “Fuck!” The word rips from my throat. Chet is immediately at my side, his hand clasping down on my shoulder in an effort to calm me.
“There's nothing to be done now Kill. You need to take a minute, get your shit together and then meet me and the other guys up front in a few. We still have a job to do and we have to do it. I don't care how shitty you feel right now, pull it together for our fans and put on a fucking happy face.” He says, squeezing my shoulder one more time before releasing it.
Turning, he makes his way out of the bunk area, leaving me alone to process everything he just told me.
Nora left?
I still can't seem to believe that she's actually gone. Scrambling back towards my bunk, it takes me a moment to locate my cell phone but the second I do, I am pulling Nora's number up and pressing the call button.
The voicemail picks up instantly and Nora's recorded words sound in my ear. It's her, only she sounds so different from the voice I have become so fond of listening to. The message is void of any emotion, simply asking to leave a message before beeping in my ear. Hanging up, I repeat the process, only to end up with the same result.
Gripping my phone so tightly, I squeeze the small device in my hand, wondering how much pressure it would take to simply crush it. When that doesn't seem to work, I wing it as hard as I can at the floor, the sound of it breaking apart ringing through the back of the bus.
I wish I could say it makes me feel better but honestly, it only sends my rage further. Trying to calm myself, I immediately begin pacing.
Why would she leave without saying goodbye?
Why would she not give me a chance to explain?
Did I really fuck up so badly that she couldn't even give me that?
Problem is, I already know the answer to every one of these questions. I don't remember details but I know that I fucked up on a scale of epic proportions. The real question I should be asking is; why wouldn't she leave?
After all the shit I have put her through, it will be a miracle if I ever see her again. The thought is a painful reality that I can't bring myself to face just yet. I should have fought for her. I should have made her see that loving me isn't a curse.
Instead, I showed her the exact man she thought me to be.
And now, she's gone...
Probably forever...
Chapter Thirty-Three
Nora
“Nora. Oh my God! What are you doing here?” Bridget bounces towards me the moment I push my way through the front door of our apartment.
I no more than get my suitcase in the door before she has me in her arms. “I didn't expect you back for another week and a half.” She squeezes me tightly before releasing me.
Stepping back, it isn't until now that her eyes settle on my face and she realizes that my returning home isn't a good thing, at least not for me. Before she can say another word, a deep sob escapes my throat. With no hesitation whatsoever, she pulls me into her arms again.
“Nora, what happened?” She hugs me tightly for another long moment before draping her arm over my shoulder and leading me to the couch.
“I just couldn't stay.” I get out over broken words, sinking into the soft cushions and looking around an apartment that now seems so foreign to me.
“Girl what is going on?” Bridget asks again, clearly not sure how to approach this.
She has never seen me like this before. Now that I think about it, no one has, because I have never been like this before.
It takes me a few moments to gather my bearings and work my way through recapping the entire ordeal to Bridget, who gets up half way through to pour us each a large glass of wine. She listens to every word without judgment and while I hoped saying it all out loud would help, once it's all out there I actually feel worse.
“So you just left, just like that?” Bridget asks, pulling her knees to her chest as she sits across from me on the couch.
“I didn't see any other way.” I admit. “I mean, he clearly blames me for everything.” I shrug.
“I don't get it though.” Bridget scrunches her forehead in confusion. “You told him you were in love with him and he let you walk away?” She questions.
“Yes.” I confirm.
“But then he proceeds to treat you like you fucked him over somehow?” She questions again, clearly trying to make this all make sense.
“Exactly.” I say, my confusion matching her own.
“There's got to be more to it.” She states, refilling her glass of wine from the bottle sitting on the coffee table in front of us.
“I don't know.” I let out a long sigh. “I mean, he was so all over the place it was hard to keep up. One minute he's making me feel like the most special woman in the world. The next, he's making out with some hot rocker chick in a bar. Then he's telling me we are just having fun, but when I say I don't want to have fun anymore and that I have fallen for him, he treats me like I am the one that did something to him.”
“What did you say to him exactly?” Bridget asks, studying me curiously.
“What do you mean?”
“When you told him you were in love with him, what exactly did you say?” She clarifies.
“I don't know. I told him that I was in love with him and he asked me why I said it like it was a bad thing.” I struggle to recall the specifics of a conversation that seems to have happened years ago, even though it's only been a couple of weeks.
“And what did you say to that?”
“That loving him was a bad thing.” I admit, for the first time really considering the meaning behind my statement.
“So you told him you loved him but that to you, loving him was a bad thing?” She asks, her eyes narrowing in on mine.
“Yes.” I admit, trying to figure out where she is going with this.
“Oh my God Nora, you have to be the dumbest smart person I have ever met.” She lets out a deep laugh and shakes her head at me.
“Um...” I start, but she immediately continues.
“Don't you see it? He's in love with you.” Her statements causes my drink of wine to stick in my throat and I resurface from my glass sputtering.
“What?” I manage to get out through my coughing.
“It's so obvious. You tell him you love him, but before he has a chance to respond, you tell him that you don't want to love him. Essentially telling him you don't want to be with him. Everything that happened beyond that point was him acting out based on this fact. When you were with Gabe, how did he behave?” She asks.
“Jealous.” I let the word hang there.
“Exactly. And when he tried to talk to you, how did he act?”
“Hurt.” I respond, finally piecing it together.
“And what happened right before he brought the girl back to the bus in a clear attempt to hurt you back?”
“I told him I was done and to leave me the hell alone.”
“Bingo!” She exclaims, leaning back into the cushions like she is extremely proud of herself.
“But...” I try to rationalize this new outlook on the situation.
“He's in love with you Nora. His actions scream it. I can't believe you of all people didn't pick up on all the signs. Wait.” She pauses, thinking over her statement. “Actually I absolutely can believe that. You have never been the strongest when it comes to reading human emotions.”
“He doesn't love me B. He can't. You don't treat someone you love like that.”
“Love makes me people act all sorts of crazy. Being jealous and trying to make the other person jealous as well, are two neon signs blinking right in your face. I'm not saying his actions are excusable. He was an asshole for sure. But that doesn't change the reason behind his actions.” She states, matter of fact.
“What do I do?” I turn my eyes back to meet Bridget's, a sudden fear creeping in.
“That part is up to you.” She says. “You need to decide if this is s
omething you want to let go or something you want to fight for.”
“And if I think it's a fight I can't win?”
“Then you decide if defeat is worth the chance that you will.” She gives me a sweet smile. “Just give it some time girl. You never know. Maybe a few days away from the situation is exactly what you need. You may feel very differently given some time.” She reaches for my hand, giving it a squeeze.
“The thought of losing him forever is more than I can bear. But the thought of facing him again, seems even harder.” I admit.
“Then you do what you do best. Focus on the task at hand. Write your article, get back into your routine, live your life. The rest will work itself out.”
“When did you get so smart?” I tease her, finishing off the remainder of my wine before setting my empty glass on the table in front of me.
“Shit I don't know. It must be all the wine I drink every day.” She laughs. “Who knew?” She shrugs playfully and we both burst into laughter.
****
“This is some great stuff Nora. Truly, incredible work.” Clive says, as I sit across from him at the desk in his office.
“Thank you.” I hold my professional demeanor in place even though on the inside I want to break out happy dancing all across the building.
“I spoke with Sean yesterday who requested a copy of the article before it was approved. Before we move forward, I do ask that you send a copy of it over to him to review.” He instructs.
“Not a problem.” I say, knowing that Sean and I were always on the same page when it came to what the piece should be about and how to highlight the music.
“Perfect.” He smiles a toothy grin. “Jason is going to be accompanying you to the band's final show in Philadelphia tomorrow night.” He says, referring to one of our photographers.
My happiness from earlier quickly fades and I try to fight past the sudden tightness in my stomach.
“I actually wasn't planning on attending. I have a lot more fine tuning to do with the article and would really like to keep my focus there. I want to make sure it's perfect.” I immediately try to make excuses.
“And it will be.” Clive nods. “But as the journalist on this piece, I think it's more professional if you accompany the photographer to the shoot. The band already knows you and is comfortable with you and that makes for a better work environment all around. Jason has an official shoot scheduled tomorrow afternoon at the venue.” He slides a business card across the table at me with an address scribbled on the back.
“Be there by four.” He adds. “You two will have about two hours to get all the shots you need before the band will need to get ready. Once the show starts, Jason will work on getting some photos of them playing. It will be beneficial for you to tell him what kind of shots you are looking for to feature with the piece.”
“Okay.” I agree, knowing no matter how badly I want to find a way out of this whole thing, I really have no choice.
“Is there anything else?” He asks, clearly picking up that something is a little off with me.
“Nope. I'm good.” I say, pushing out of the uncomfortable office chair and into a stand.
“Nora.” Clive's voice sounds behind me just as I turn towards the door.
“You are going to make one hell of a field journalist.” He smiles.
“Thanks Clive.” I return his smile before quickly exiting his office, eager to get the hell away from anything and everything that has to do with Everything After.
It's like no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to escape Killian. He's everywhere. In pictures on my computer. In words written in my article. In music that I can't seem to resist playing every night on repeat. He's in my mind, my dreams, settling in so deep that there is nothing I can do to shake him.
And now, after over a week apart, I am going to be forced to come face to face with him once more. Honestly, I'm not sure how in the hell I am going to manage to do that.
Maybe it would be different if I felt like any part of him wanted to see me but I am pretty sure at this point, that is not the case. He hasn't reached out to me, not even once. Despite my many phone calls to him, all of which go straight to voicemail.
I think he's made it blindingly clear that he is done. There is nothing left for me to do except suck it up and get through this one last show. Problem is, I'm not sure how I will survive seeing Killian again knowing that it may very well be the last time...
Chapter Thirty-Four
Killian
I thought being in Philadelphia, knowing how close I would be to Nora, would somehow make me feel better but it doesn't. It's torture knowing that she's just across town and I can't see her, touch her. I didn't realize how much she had affected my life until she left it.
Now, nothing seems to have purpose anymore.
“You are a stupid son of a bitch.” Gabe shakes his head as he steps on the bus and pins his eyes directly on my face.
“What the fuck?” I question, confused by his comment.
“That girl could have strung you up by the balls after what you put her through and instead of tearing you apart, she paints you to be a fucking musical God.” Gabe says, crossing the space towards me, a small stack of papers in his hand.
“What are you talking about?” I immediately question, jumping slightly when he drops the stapled stack into my lap.
“Just fucking read it.” He shakes his head, not waiting for my response as he turns and exits the bus again.
I hold the papers up to my face, my heart tripling in speed the moment I realize what I am holding.
Everything After: How Legends Are Born
By Nora Brandt
I take a deep inhale and turn to the first page. I find myself hooked from the first word. I read on and on, not able to pull myself from the article until I have devoured every last word she has written. When I finally resurface a few minutes later, I'm not sure how to react.
Gabe is right. She had the ability to paint me as the stereotypical rock star, and she wouldn't have been wrong. She could have shared the information about my personal life, but she chose not to. She could have portrayed the entire band as any other run of the mill rockers, instead she depicted us as musical geniuses; comparing us to bands that we grew up idolizing.
Killian Adair is magic. From his brooding lyrics to his smoldering voice,
he is one of those innate beings that seems to have figured out
something everyone else has missed. He makes you question everything
you thought you knew about the art of creating music.
He is of both myth and legend and yet, still a man.
He possesses the rare ability to make you feel the music,
a quality that seems lost from today's music.
I re-read one portion of the article, losing my breath the second time just as I did the first. My mind races. Where is the girl that said she didn't want to love me? Where is the girl that looked at me with eyes so full of hatred, I swore I would feel the weight of that look for the rest of my life? Where is the girl I hurt so deeply that she couldn't even find it in her to tell me goodbye before leaving?
I can't find that girl anywhere in these words. What I see instead is someone I fear, was here all along. Someone that I failed to see until this very moment. She didn't want to love me because she was afraid, not because she viewed me unworthy of that love.
What a fucking idiot I have been.
I thought I knew what was going on when in reality, I was the most clueless asshole in the room. The only thing I can hope now is that I can find a way to make this right. I have to find a way to make this right.
I have been struggling to find my place in this world since my mom died. Fighting to figure out where I belong. And now I know. Only one person has the ability to provide me with the peace I have been searching my whole life to find.
And I will be damned if I am going to let her get away a second time...
****
I thought for sure I would see Nora sometime throughout the photo shoot with SMASH magazine but we are just moments from going on stage and she has continued to elude me. I won't deny my increasing doubts that have continued to build over the course of the day but I am determined. More determined than I have probably ever been before.
When we take the outdoor stage and start the opening song of our set, my nerves are all over the place. Not because the show is larger than any we've ever done, but simply because I know, somewhere among the thousands of faces, she is there, watching from the crowd the way she always used to.
I can see her elated smile, imagine her bouncing in the audience the way she's done countless times before. It's the only thing that keeps me going, that keeps my focus intact.
The crowd is intense. They clamor over each other in the pit and scream, reaching for the stage. They sing our songs right along with us, not missing even one word as we go along.
By the end of our set, I am more convinced than ever as to what I need to do. Holding the guys off from exiting the stage, I make my way back up to the mic and begin to speak. While I am standing here in front of the crowd of thousands, my words are only for her...
Chapter Thirty-Five
Nora
“Thank you everyone. Thank you so much for coming out.” I hear Killian address the audience just as I have turned and am making my way through the large outdoor field where thousands of others are crowded.
I didn't think it was possible to make it through tonight's show, but I did. And while I am leaving with a heavy heart, I am also thankful that I got the chance to see him just one last time. To watch him perform and light up the stage like he always does. To watch him come to life under the lights and the noise, it's the most incredible thing I think I will ever witness.
It isn't until I register what he's saying that my footsteps freeze. I immediately turn towards the stage again, my eyes finding him the moment I do. He's standing at the very edge, looking down over his adoring fans as he continues.
Everything After Page 19