by Aly Stiles
After several more minutes, he finally seems to be drawing in normal breaths again. His tears subside into silent streaks on his cheeks.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice shaky, almost inaudible. “I’m so, so sorry.” He won’t look at me, still hunched over with his elbows on his knees.
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” I say, rubbing his arm in soothing strokes.
He shakes his head. “I couldn’t take it. It was too much. I just…”
Just.
He closes his eyes again.
“You just broke.”
His haunted eyes lift to mine, punching me in the stomach. I gaze back into the most beautiful mess I’ve ever seen. A mess I don’t even want to fix. A mess I want to understand and appreciate and hold onto.
I reach out and touch his cheek, brushing softly with my thumb as we stare at each other.
“I got you, Julian Campbell. You know that, right? Even if we never officially become more than we are right now, you can give everything you have to Naomi because I got you.”
He blinks, fresh tears gathering in his eyes. “God, you are the strongest person I know.” He looks away, and I pull my hand back to my lap.
After another long silence, I hear him suck in a steadying inhale. “I went to Ashley’s place tonight to look for those papers,” he says in a low, strangely monotone voice given what just happened. “I found them, but Allan showed up and pulled a gun on me.”
“What?!” I cry.
Julian doesn’t budge, and I realize that stoic tone is coming from a newly fortified body. If I hadn’t just witnessed his complete meltdown, I never would have guessed the hard man before me was capable of such emotion.
“We argued for a bit, but I finally convinced him to let me go with the folder.” He looks up again. His eyes finally softening back to the Julian I’m falling for. “Am I making a mistake, Hadley? I want Naomi with me more than anything, but am I being selfish? What if…” He stops, paling before he looks away. “What if she’s better off without me?” I barely hear the question. I don’t think it was meant for me.
Anger boils inside me again, and I don’t know why. Who or what is it for? Some phantom force that lies and makes its victims believe the craziest things until it ruins lives and destroys good people. I’m angry, which is why he looks at me in surprise when I push myself up from the couch with a violent shove. I’m still angry as I stomp to the kitchen and swipe a sheet of notebook paper off the counter. I stomp back to the living room and slap the paper against his hands.
“You think that girl is better off without you? Read this and tell me that girl is better off without you.”
CHAPTER 15
JULIAN
I’m still not okay when Hadley shoves a piece of paper in my face. I don’t know what the hell just happened to me, but I feel a million times lighter than I did an hour ago. Like I can breathe. Like maybe I’d be strong enough to give Naomi up if that’s what’s best for her.
“You think that girl is better off without you? Read this and tell me that girl is better off without you,” she snaps.
Hadley hovers impatiently in front of me, looking pissed for some reason. I don’t know what changed in the last ten seconds, but her arms have gone from the best hug I’ve ever had to crossed over her chest in stern protest.
I blink up at her in confusion before allowing my eyes to scan the page. Flowery handwriting flows from line to line in a pattern I immediately recognize.
Oh my god.
Song lyrics.
Naomi is writing lyrics now. Tears are already burning again when I choke on the first line.
Please stay, I need you for the better days.
What the…?! How…?
I keep reading, my stomach in knots.
Please stay, I need you for the better days
Without you, I’m not the one I’m meant to be
Imagine, half a world left missing or
Forgotten, never to reveal my place so
Please stay, I need you for a better day
Without you, it all just fades away so
Please stay, you’re the one who lights my way
Without you, it all just fades to gray
And away…
Away…
Away…
So please stay, I need you for the better days
Without you, I don’t know how to see that I am me.
I don’t know what to do with the treasure in my hands. I stare at it, reading one of the most beautiful combinations of words I’ve ever seen over and over again. That amazing girl wrote these words. About me? Oh god, what if they are? What if she isn’t just tolerating me but is actually coming to need me in her life as much as I need her in mine? What if there’s a chance in hell we can pull ourselves back up and salvage something from the shitstorm of our pasts?
“You think…” My voice trembles when I can finally bring myself to speak. “You think this is about me?” The rest comes out as a whisper, as if the words still haven’t formed into a coherent thought in my brain.
“I know it’s about you,” Hadley says softly, resuming her place beside me again. “Naomi showed it to me. I managed not to cry right then, but totally lost it once she went back to her room. She’s writing a song, Julian. She’s writing. A. Song. Because of you this is the stuff that’s coming out of her now.” She jiggles the page still gripped tightly in my hand.
I shake my head in numb silence, still in disbelief. This entire night has been too much to absorb in one sitting.
“You think you have no idea what you’re doing, when in reality you’re doing the only thing you need to do,” she continues earnestly. “Love her. Support her. Give her a stabilizing force that she can begin to trust in again. Everything else is semantics.”
I stare back at the song, still not sure what to do next. “I should go to her. Talk about this.”
Hadley nods, but grabs my wrist when I move to get up. “You should, but not right now. She just went back to her room right before you got home. She needs some space for now. Talk to her later, maybe even tomorrow.”
I sigh, settling back against the couch. I trust Hadley’s advice. She and Naomi have some girl bond I don’t understand. A shiver runs through me at the thought of not having Hadley in our lives one day.
I turn to face her, searching her face in the dim light from the kitchen. We never even turned on the lamp in the living room.
“I’m sorry about my meltdown,” I say finally. Yes, I’m embarrassed, but weirdly not as much as I thought I’d be. If you told me I’d be sobbing like a baby in front of another person, I never would have believed it. Probably would have punched you. “I don’t know what happened. It was like this avalanche fell on me all at once. I couldn’t stop it and stuff just started… happening.”
I force a dry laugh. It sounds grating and out of place. I want to brush off the breakdown, but I can’t purge what seems to have seeped into my pores and now floods my veins with cold waves that make it happen over and over again. I keep flashing back to that scene, that moment when I thought it was all going to end. Shadows and voices that came into sharp focus in the midst of the crisis, now seem jumbled in a violent cloud in my head.
She reaches over and takes my hand. “You had a gun pulled on you, Julian. A gun. Our minds and bodies aren’t supposed to handle crap like that. Lump that in with everything else you’ve been dealing with, and it’s no wonder you crashed. Anyone would have.”
I pull in a deep breath, wanting to believe her. What happened wasn’t just mental. It was physical. I completely lost control of myself, and I can’t understand why she’d even be here after witnessing a collapse like that. I stare over at her compassionate face, suddenly overcome by a new sensation. A warmth rushes in and stirs the storm inside me, calming it somehow. It’s her eyes. Her hair. Her lips. Damn, she’s beautiful.
I reach for a lock of blond waves and twist it between my fingers. But that’s not what keeps d
rawing me back. She’s also strong. Confident. So freaking kind. They don’t make girls like this in my world, certainly not that I’ve encountered.
Her expression changes the longer we sit in silence. The room feels so different now than the tomb it was a moment ago. It’s lighter, and I swear it’s the summer breeze coming from the woman seated in front of me.
“Thank you, Hadley,” I say firmly. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for Naomi, and me, and just being there. Even when I was acting like an ass.”
“Julian—”
I shake my head, cutting her off. “No, let me get this out. I know I’m not the best at expressing myself. I act first, think later, and explain way later, if at all. I know that, but… with you.” I pull in a deep breath and meet her gorgeous blue eyes. “You bring out something better in me. I don’t know. It’s like, maybe there really could be better days when you’re around.” I wave my hand in front of her. “You’re this weird ball of hope.”
She snorts a laugh through her watery eyes. “A weird ball of hope?!”
I grin and shrug. “What? Never been called a weird ball of hope before?”
“Has anyone?”
I think she kind of likes it when she adjusts to snuggle against me with her back to my side. I shift so I can tuck my arm around her chest and pull her close. We sit like that for a while, no need to talk, no need to force anything. We just are. Together. Alive and sharing the same moment because who knows what the next will bring.
I stare over her head at the framed picture on the wall. It was taken right before our first stadium concert when we opened for Dream Filter. All of us are grinning and posing like we’re on top of the world. We thought we were. We all felt it, like we’d just reached the summit of our lives.
But the problem with peaking at twenty-three is there’s no reason to believe in better days. And when it all gets sucked away, you realize your best days are lived and buried. You’re a twenty-five-year-old vacuum of memories that now seem meaningless.
Until…
I lean over and kiss the top of Hadley’s head, surprising her. She glances up, and I kiss her nose. She legit giggles, and I grin. I’ve never heard her giggle before. Pretty sure that’s my new favorite sound.
“There’s only one thing you said tonight that I didn’t like,” I say. Her smile falters, and I widen mine to soften my words. “You said, ‘even if we never officially become more than we are’ I can give everything I have to Naomi because you’re here for me.”
She squeezes my arm. “I meant what I said. I’ll always be here for you. Obviously, I’m hoping things get easier for both of you and you don’t need me—”
“Not that part,” I cut in, rolling my eyes. “The first part.”
I wait for her to piece things together, finally rewarded with a sudden blush and shy smile.
Hadley doesn’t stay long after our chat on the couch. As much as I would have loved to remain cuddled on those cushions indefinitely, we were both exhausted.
Besides, the heated glances we exchanged after my cryptic comment started causing problems for our comfortable cuddle session. I couldn’t stop staring at her lips. Her soft caress on my arm draped over her chest got more and more aggressive. The tension continued to build until out of nowhere, she jumped to her feet, gave me a light kiss on the cheek, and said she’d see me at rehearsal tomorrow.
And suddenly I’m alone.
I pause at Naomi’s door on the way back to my room, still stirred to distraction by the song she wrote, but I can’t bring myself to knock. I don’t trust my brain, body, or emotions right now. I just lost my shit an hour ago. I had zero control over myself in those awful, terrifying moments. Who’s to say it won’t happen again?
So instead of knocking I press my ear to the door and listen for any clue about what’s happening inside. Relief and a surprising hint of joy wash through me when I hear the awkward chug of a rudimentary chord progression. An adult voice drones in the background, and I make out enough words to hear it’s some kind of tutorial. I’m not sure why she’s scouring the internet for guitar lessons instead of asking me, but I love that she cares enough to put in that kind of effort.
Satisfied that she’s in a stable state, I continue to my room with the folder.
I lock the door so Naomi can’t burst in and situate myself in my favorite spot at the top middle of the bed against the headboard. My hands tremble again when I grip the edge of the folder, and I flinch at a flashback to the gun in my face. I close my eyes and breathe deeply to center myself.
Then I dive in.
The birth certificate is where I left it. The social security photocopy, medical bill, and insurance policy also. I pluck the policy from the pile and read it thoroughly this time. From what I can tell it was still in good standing when she died, meaning the beneficiary is still entitled to the payout.
The beneficiary. Me. Custodian of Naomi.
I read over that line several times, before allowing myself to search for the number that’s been nagging my brain since I first learned of this document’s existence. Even ten thousand dollars would be enough to get Naomi in a stable situation and cover her immediate needs. One day I’ll be able to provide for her for real, but it could be months before I start seeing any real income from the band. This money will do exactly what it was intended to do: Take care of Ashley’s daughter when she can’t.
I scan the page and gasp. My heart stops as I stare at a clear, bolded one with five zeros after it. A hundred thousand dollars. Naomi is entitled to one hundred thousand dollars. Well, technically it goes to me, but Ashley must have known before I did that I was capable of being responsible enough to use it to care for her daughter. This is a gamechanger for us. I can hire a lawyer, set up a college fund, so many possibilities to give her a real honest to goodness future. I will have to get on that first thing tomorrow and start the process of filing a claim. Only problem is, I’ll probably need… that.
My breath catches in my throat at the fancy, deceptively triumphant font spelling out “Certificate of Death.” Funny how similar it is to Naomi’s “Certificate of Birth” at the front of the pile. I guess as far as the government is concerned our death is the same as our birth. One more tick in the population column, until we cross it off eighty years later. Or thirty-six.
I trace each letter with my eyes—slowly, deliberately, almost to the point where I can’t comprehend the words. But the words don’t matter. All that matters is the pinch in my chest as her death becomes real in a raw stab of pain. I lost my sister. I glance at the door. Naomi lost her entire universe. Her mother, her stability, her identity as a cherished daughter and human being.
I close the folder and shove it carefully in the nightstand. There may be more secrets in there to uncover, but that will have to wait for another day. I have more important secrets to explore right now. I grab the song off the top of the nightstand and move to the door.
Naomi’s tentative strums in place of the typical thrashing means I don’t have to knock as loudly as I usually do. Her latest chord comes to an abrupt stop, and I hear the distinctive clank of a guitar being put on its stand. She pulls the door open a second later, a flicker of surprise on her face when she sees me.
“You’re back,” she says. “Did Hadley go home?”
I nod. “Yeah, she says goodnight. She was exhausted.”
Naomi nods but doesn’t seem upset. “I’m learning the chords for the key of A now. I think I have the G chords down pretty good.” She waves toward her phone where I see a tutorial paused, just like I expected.
“I can help you too, you know. I know a few things about the guitar.” I smile to lighten the comment, and she smiles back with a shrug.
“I know. I guess… I wanted to show you I could do it. Plus you’ve been so busy.”
I swallow, feeling guilty for not being around much the last few days—even if it was because I was being terrorized on her behalf.
“I’m always here for you,
Omi. Always.” I search her eyes, making it clear I’m not just talking about guitar chords.
She nods and looks away, a small smile on her lips.
“Speaking of music. You want to tell me about this?” I say, holding up the lyrics.
Her smile fades, her face paling as she takes a step back. Shit. Not the reaction I was going for.
“I’m sorry, Uncle Julian. I found that line scribbled on the notepad where we put the grocery list. I know they’re your words, I just heard these others and… don’t be mad.”
She startles when I grab her shoulders and scoop her into an embrace. After a moment, she relaxes and locks her arms around my waist, settling against my chest.
“Heck no, they’re not my words,” I say in a soft voice. “They’ve clearly always belonged to you.”
She tilts her head up, those big eyes full of wonder. “Really? You don’t mind?”
“Mind? My god, Naomi. They’re amazing.”
She beams as I let her go and drop to her desk chair.
“What are you thinking for the chord progression?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
I grab her guitar off the stand and start strumming through a few combinations in the key of G. “I mean, your lyrics are killer. Now they just need the chords to go with them.”
“You… you mean like an actual song?” she asks, eyes wide.
“That’s exactly what I mean. What do you think of this?”
I play through a progression, then start tossing in variations while reading her face for reactions.
“Oh, I like that one!” she says, pointing at the guitar.
I grin. Me too. I play the progression she liked again, watching her face as she takes it in. I keep playing, over and over until she picks up the notebook paper and studies the words. Her lips move in subtle formations, and I hear the faintest sound of a melody.