Blame it on the Tequila

by Fiona Cole

  Trepidation crept in—a hint of something not quite coming together right, but I pushed on. “Okay. What’s the plan?”

  “We don’t want this to negatively impact the band, not after all the work we put in this year. The guys filled me in on some of the details, and if anyone comes forward to accuse them of neglecting the letters, then it could put them in a bad light. So, Linda is calling the main news shows: The Today Show, Good Morning America, Ellen. Oprah, if we can get it. We’re going to use this.”

  Use this.

  The words crawled around my throat, squeezing. “Use what?” I whispered.

  I glanced at Parker to read his reaction, but he seemed to be hanging on to Aspen’s every word like it was gospel.

  “Your story. We can make it work. We say you came on tour with Parker to write about your experience. We can do talk shows and push that the new album has songs focused on you and Parker and how you reunited to write about your tragic past.”

  “What?”

  “The fans will eat it up,” she kept going, growing more excited. “Boys, you are going to explode. With this kind of natural publicity, you’ll skyrocket.”

  Nausea churned like lead, and I looked to Parker. I searched my lifeline—my safety. “Parker?”

  He met my gaze, brows raised as if looking to me for confirmation of the good idea. As if he didn’t know it was everything I didn’t want.

  That look—the one that said he didn’t hate the idea of using this to make his jump to another level a little easier, blew me apart. It found every weakness and crushed me. My limbs went numb, and my hand slipped from his.

  I stepped back from the ledge of the platform. His brow softened from hope to confusion to hurt. Another step back, and realization hit. He shook his head, pleading with his eyes to stop.

  But it was too late.

  Another step back.

  “I trusted you,” I whispered before darting past him to the bedroom.

  He followed right behind me, slamming the door. I wanted to run to the bathroom, but I needed to get out. I needed to get off that ledge.

  “Don’t do this, Nova,” he pleaded.

  I shoved clothes haphazardly into the bag. “Don’t to what?”

  “Don’t leave.”

  “What? Would you rather I stay and play your little puppet? Would you rather I sit by with a smile to be used?”

  “No. That’s not what I want.”

  “Bullshit,” I accused. “I saw it. She said the words, and you ate them up.”

  “Dammit, Nova,” he growled, shoving both hands into his hair. He tugged at his strands before throwing his arms wide. “I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to fix this for you. Aspen is good at this, so I just…”

  “She didn’t fix it for me, Parker. She fixed it for you.”

  “No, she fixed it for us. There’s not a good way for anyone to come out completely unscathed, and this covers all the bases.”

  “That’s the thing, Parker. I don’t want to even play the game, but here I am, basically being used as the damn ball.”

  “Well, Nova, the game is my job. I’m doing my job, and it’s exhausting and hard and not always what I want to do, but I have responsibilities.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to see through the storm raging inside me—past and present swirling too close to separate. Is this what it would be like? Always coming second? Would it be just like my father? The question knocked the wind out of me, and I needed out of that damn room—I needed air.

  “I just…I need time to think.”

  “No, you need time to run.”

  He stood in my way of escape, and my panic flashed to anger. I stood tall, gritting my jaw. “No, Parker. I need space because I expected you to not choose your job over me every single time, and apparently, you aren’t capable of it. How many more times am I going to have to step aside for your job? Will you leave me behind again because your job is more important? Will I be left to the wolves again while you achieve your dreams?”

  He stumbled back like my words were a physical blow.

  The direct hit didn’t ease any of the pain wracking my body. Instead, it only made it worse. Tears broke free, and my chest shuddered over the sobs I fought to hold back. He closed the gap between us, gripping my biceps. “I know it’s hard, but, Nova, I want you. I don’t want to lose you again. I need you with me.”

  “No…not really.” I pulled back, shrugging my bag on my shoulder. “You never did.”

  “Don’t you dare walk away,” he ordered when I shouldered past him. “Don’t you dare run. For once, don’t be a coward and fight.”

  Just like that, my muscles tensed all over again, and I whirled around. “I am not a coward.”

  “Then stop acting like it,” he snarled, taking a challenging step forward.

  “You have no idea what it’s like—what it was like. I’m already exhausted, Parker, and all I want is to not talk about it anymore. All I want is for you to go out there and tell them to fuck off.”

  “You think I want to face this? I don’t. It was one of the biggest mistakes I ever made, and it haunts me every motherfucking day. Not a moment goes by that the guilt doesn’t weigh me down like a ten-ton truck. But, goddammit, Nova, I busted my ass to get here. I faced doubt at every fucking turn my whole life, and I can’t just say fuck it when I want to. I fucked up before, but I can’t let my past define me. I can’t let it keep me from a future I dreamed of—a future with the woman I love by my side not always trying to run.”

  His words slammed into me, knocking the wind from my lungs. “Don’t say that,” I breathed.

  “What? That I love you?” For every step I fumbled back, he followed. “I’ve loved you for so long that I don’t even know what it’s like to not have this feeling taking up every spare spot in my body. It’s part of me. You are part of me. You always will be.”

  Too much. Too much. Too much.

  I couldn’t breathe. It came at me from all angles, and all I wanted to do was ball up and be alone and ignore everything crumbling down on me.

  “No. Parker, I can’t.” I shook my head, backing up more, lashing out blindly—pointlessly. “Go do your job, Parker. It’s what you always wanted.”

  “Don’t, Nova. Please,” he pleaded through clenched teeth.

  He stretched his hand out for me to take, and I stared, remembering the way they traced every dip and curve of my body. For a moment, I considered taking them, holding onto him, and taking the leap into the abyss.

  But familiar, solid land stretched behind me.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  And then I turned and did what he accused me of.

  I ran.

  Thirty

  Nova

  Regret hit me almost as soon as I left, but my feet refused to turn back. I went to the airport and booked a ticket to the closest I could get to New York. On my flight to Pittsburg, I clung to the merry-go-round of emotions, not sure how to let go when everything swirled around me like a blur.

  As soon as I dried my eyes from crying, indignant anger burned. As soon as the embers cooled, defeat pulled me down into despair, where I started crying again. I hated it. I hated the way they blurred together and left me a mess I didn’t know where to begin to untangle. I didn’t know which thread to pull first without falling apart.

  The only thing I did know was that I needed to get to solid ground. I needed to make the spinning stop.

  When my flight landed, I didn’t take my phone off airplane mode, too scared of what waited for me. I booked a mini-cabin for the night before renting a car the next day after I peeled myself out from where I hid under the covers. I blasted music on my drive through the mountains. I tried to focus on the trees and the rocks and nature all around me. I tried to blot out the thoughts by belting out lyrics, but it was useless.

  Nothing could distract me from my argument with Parker. We both lashed out. We both dug our heels in and landed blows that were wrongly delivered. We both
acted without thinking. We were both wrong.

  But one thing he was right about: I was a coward because I was the one running.

  In the moment, it had filled me with an all too familiar feeling. The one where we only made it so far before falling apart. It’s like I’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop, and once it had, I gave in to the inevitability without trying to change anything.

  So, I ran, never giving us a chance to figure it out together. I let the past dictate my future, and I hated it. It was like shining a light into the dark recesses of my mind, calling me out for not actually handling my trauma like I thought I had.

  Seeing it there pissed me off. I wanted to rip it out and never let it back in again. I wanted to be strong, not a façade of strong waiting to crumble as soon as the past crept from the shadows.

  I said I wanted to bungee jump, so dammit, I would bungee jump.

  Which was why halfway through my drive, when I saw a sign, I veered off the road. Fate heard me, and even if it was only metaphorical, I needed to prove to myself that I could.

  Because Parker Callahan said he loved me and, without a doubt, I knew I loved him too.

  I loved him more than anything, including my fears.

  I followed the signs and refused to back out.

  I pushed past the racing heart as they strapped me into the harness. I focused on slowing my breath when they walked me to the edge. I closed my eyes and pulsed my sweaty fists open and closed, standing at the end of the platform. And when push came to shove, I opened my eyes and stared into the abyss.

  My legs shook, but when I looked at the valley of trees and rocks, all I saw was Parker’s face asking me not to leave.

  One more deep breath.

  “I can do this.”

  I jumped.

  By the time I reached New York, I still hadn’t turned on my phone, leaving me unsure of how I’d be greeted. Not that it mattered. We stood by each other no matter what. So, with a deep breath, I knocked.

  The door opened and—

  “It’s about fucking time.” Rae propped one hand on the door and the other on her cocked hip, looking like a disapproving mama who wasn’t going to let me back inside until I explained.

  But I couldn’t explain because, in the next second, I broke down in tears.

  “Dammit,” she sighed. “You’re ruining my anger at you disappearing without an explanation.”

  With that, she let go of the door and yanked me in her arms, squeezing me more tightly like she could strong-arm my soul back together. I clung to her and let her guide me inside to the couch, where she stroked my hair.

  “You and Vera get one pass and one pass only. If you come crying to me again, I’ll be killing people. I’m not equipped with the emotions to handle my best friends hurting.”

  I sniffed, wiping my tears, trying to get myself under control. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, no. Don’t you dare apologize. I’m glad you finally came to me. I’ve been freaking waiting. Vera took two seconds before her ass was at my door, and here you are, making me wait two days.”

  “Yeah,” I responded lamely. Another moment I was faced with my cowardice.

  “Hey.” She dipped her head, trying to get me to meet her eyes. When I still hung my head, she gripped my cheeks and forced me to look. “It’s okay, Nova. If you need time, then you take it. As long as you know, we’re here, and let us know you’re safe.”

  “I should have told you everything. I should have called. I didn’t mean to shut you out,” I admitted through a fresh wave of tears.

  I didn’t mean to shut anyone out, but I couldn’t deny that maybe I’d been hiding more than I wanted to admit. Maybe I’d been controlling more than just what I shared with my art. All this time, I’d been fighting Aiken on showing my face because I wanted to stick with the brand I created, but really, I was just hiding—even from my friends.

  “Ha. Girl, you cannot shut me out. I may be biding my time in the corner, but I’m in here,” she tapped my head. “And if you tried to make me leave, I’d laugh in your face, and Spartan kick the door down to get back in. You and Vera are my bitches, and you’ve accepted me. There’s no going back.”

  Laughing both hurt and felt good at the same time, but at least I could still laugh.

  “You just need to process it differently.”

  I laid my hands over hers, where they held my cheeks and smiled through my tears. “Thank you.”

  “Any time. Now, speaking of ways to handle our shit, let me grab some alcohol and get to the bottom of this.”

  I didn’t even argue when she came back a few minutes later with a bottle of wine for each of us—sans glasses—and a bottle of tequila.

  “I feel like this is turning into some tradition,” she said, scowling at the alcohol on the table and back to the crying woman on her couch. “I’d like to skip it, please. No crying over guys for me, thank you very much. But I am always up for a night of drinking straight from the bottle.”

  “I’ll keep the vodka on hand,” I promised, deciding against the tequila and sticking to wine. “Speaking of, how’s your boyfriend?”

  She stiffened for half a second before shaking her head. “Oh, no, Miss Nova. This is about you.”

  “It was worth a shot.” I shrugged, lifting the bottle.

  I took a long swig, the dry berry flavor washing away the salt from my tears. If only it could wash away the exhausted hurt wrapping around every muscle and bone in my body. I was exhausted, finally ready to lay it all out there and ask someone to help me carry this load weighing me down.

  A soft knock had Rae back off the couch. I knew who it would be before she even opened the door. We were a tripod—we worked better with all of us together.

  Vera entered, coming over to the living room all sleek, composed, and calm.

  My mind flashed to when I came barging in almost six months ago to find her in the same situation I was in now—crying on Rae’s couch, clutching a bottle of wine. I’d been anything but composed.

  “What? No trying to break down the door like She-Ra?” I asked with a soggy laugh.

  She scrunched her nose and shook her head. “Nah. I know how dramatic Rae can be with her messages. Besides,” her eyes locked on me, and I saw the focused businesswoman who matched her husband’s force. I leaned back, bracing myself. “I’m saving my energy for you.”

  “Oh, damn,” Rae muttered. “Mom is mad at you.”

  I glared at Rae, but she just smirked, passing a bottle of wine to Vera before plopping down on the chair beside the couch. She pulled both legs up in criss-cross apple sauce and leaned in like she couldn’t wait for story-time.

  Vera took her time setting her purse and coat aside before sitting down beside me. “Now, explain why the hell you couldn’t respond to a message after we discovered your past from the media of all places. If you’re going to fall off the face of the earth, at least send us a message to let us know you’re alive.”

  Damn. She did reprimand me like a mom. But then she drank straight from her bottle, bringing the image of the woman in pearls scolding me together with my best friend.

  “I know,” I sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us? About before?” she asked gently.

  “I-I—” I stuttered and winced, swallowing to try again. “I never talk about it. It’s the reason I don’t talk about knowing Parker, because usually with that story comes the other, and I just avoid it.”

  “Fair enough,” Rae chimed in. “Sounds like it was a fucking shitshow.”

  “And we know Rae avoids talking shitshows at all cost.”

  Rae mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key before turning more serious. “You don’t ever have to talk about it. We all have things we hold close to our chest that we don’t want to talk about.” She shrugged before looking away for another drink.

  Rae appeared as the perfect, fun, socialite, but a lot brewed beneath the surface. She hid it well, but this was an i
nstance we got to see more than she probably wanted.

  “The point is,” Vera added, “that we want you to know that you can come to us if you just want to talk about anything.”

  “I know that,” I said, adding more sincerely. “I know that. I really do. You guys are my best friends, and I love you. It was just nice to go to college and be far, far away from the girl who was taken. And as time went on, I just never talked about it, and I convinced myself that I didn’t need to.”

  “It’s not like we had a lot of conversations where you could bring up that one time you were kidnapped,” Rae muttered.

  I snorted, and wine spewed from my lips which only served to make me laugh more. Then all three of us were laughing until I cried again just because it felt good to feel my chest shake and rumble with happiness. But when you opened the gate to one emotion, others followed.

  “Nova,” Vera cooed, pulling me into her arms.

  Rae reached across to hold my hand.

  “I fucked up, you guys. I fucked up with Parker.”

  “No,” Vera tried to say, but I shook my head.

  “I did. I love him so much, and I ran from him like I always do. And I said mean things on my way out the door.”

  I broke down the argument and how I ran when push came to shove. I hated admitting out loud what a coward I’d been. By the time I finished, I was almost out of tears, leaving sniffles and wet cheeks. Rae moved over to my other side, being a good friend and keeping me hydrated with wine through the story.

  “Has he called?” Vera asked.

  “I-I don’t know,” I winced.

  “Nova. Hearst,” Rae reprimanded. “Stop being a little bitch and turn on your damn phone.”

  I hesitantly pulled the phone from my purse and just stared at the settings. What if I swiped and there was nothing from him? What if there was only a message from Aspen letting me know she was firing me and that I could pick up my belongings at the local Goodwill? Before I could sink further into my what-ifs, Rae snatched my phone and turned airplane mode off.