by Kate Stewart
He began ripping T-shirts from hangers, then kicked the cheap plastic sock drawer he had against the wall.
When he didn’t answer, my angry heart began to speak for me.
“Me, too. I gotta go, huh? It’s not enough to leave the band, everyone else goes, too.”
He stopped with his shirts in hand, only to drive his fists through the wall of his closet. Punishing and relentless, it shredded easily under his heavy throws. Screaming in surprise, I shrank into the discarded pile of shirts while I watched him self-destruct. When he collapsed on the floor, exhausted and sweat pouring off of his brow, he drew his legs up and cupped his knees as blood seeped from his knuckles. Moving fast, I inspected his hands and saw he hadn’t broken anything. I rushed to his bathroom and grabbed a washcloth, wet it, and raced back to him. He allowed me mere seconds to clean them while he stared blankly at the ruined wall. “It’s fine.” He jerked away and began stuffing his duffle again. Standing in front of him, I gripped his bag and tried to force his eyes on mine.
“We were never supposed to happen,” he said, dodging me. “I’m not good for you, Stella.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m not. Your sister knows it. Everyone seems to know it but you.”
“Because it’s not true.”
An exasperated laugh left him as he looked down at me, our eyes locking, breathing the same air. Seeing my panic, he shook his head. “You’re better off.”
“I’m not,” I said as angry tears rolled down my face. “I might not know much, Reid, but I do know this: I’m yours.” My breath hitched as he dropped his bag before he thrust his fingers in my hair and crushed his mouth to mine. I gripped him just as greedily as he parted my mouth before his tongue plunged deep. Kissing him in that moment was completion, bliss and agony, and at the heart of it, it felt like goodbye. And it hit so deep, I began to cry before I ripped my lips away, fighting to keep that feeling. Fighting as long as I was able to. Despite what he said, it was his kiss that told me our love was real, and I would do anything to keep it. To keep Reid.
“Don’t leave. Please don’t leave. We can work this out. I’ll talk to Lexi. Don’t go.”
“I’m on my knees, Stella,” he whispered, his forehead pressed to mine. “And I’m fucking exhausted from being here. I’m sorry,” he said softly.
He moved past me and began shoving his shoes into the bag.
“Reid—”
“I’m leaving, Stella.”
“Fuck!” I screamed, gripping my hair before I sank down to the floor. I heard the rustle in his bathroom, and sometime later, I heard the god-awful sound of the zip. I was still sobbing when he knelt in the closet in front of me and softly said my name. “Stella.”
“I can’t believe you’re giving up. If you could only—” I hiccupped “—for one second, see what I see. Just believe me,” I begged, refusing to look at him. I was shattering and I showed it. I held nothing back as I let the raw emotion pour out of me. Apparently, I had no dignity when it came to my heartache. None. I was wide open, he saw it, and I let him see. A gentle hand caressed the side of my face before my head was tilted up.
“You’re making a mistake,” I whispered.
“I’m tired of starving, tired of working my ass off, getting up only to get kicked down again. I need a breather. I want out of Austin for a while.”
“But you’ll come back?” I implored, as the tears crested over my lips. They tasted like ruin. “You’ll come back, right?”
“I don’t know.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t know?”
He brushed my hair away from my face. “You remember that seven minutes you saved me? I just wanted to spend them with you, Stella.”
“You can have all of them. I’ll give them all to you, Reid. Stay.”
He closed his eyes as if my words hurt. “Stop.”
“Stop,” I bit out bitterly. “Not going to happen.” I could feel his frustration as his eyes begged me to understand. And I did. But it didn’t mean I had to let him go without a fight.
“Fine, if you won’t stay for me, what about the band?”
“They’ll find someone else. I don’t have it all figured out.”
“But you’ll play again. You aren’t done, right?”
“I don’t know.”
Tears pooled and multiplied. I could see his pain, feel it, and it was my only comfort, because his words only twisted the knife.
“Don’t hate me,” he whispered.
“Just don’t stop playing, Reid. Don’t give up.” I kissed his jaw. “Go home,” I said, standing, and he followed suit, now towering above me. Steadying myself, I found the words and the strength I had left to speak them. “If I’m not what you need, then go find it. I bared myself to you, and you didn’t have the decency to fall in love with me. I probably will hate you. I fell for you, scared, but I did it anyway.” Courage, anger, or one of the half-dozen emotions racing through me pushed the rest out. “But don’t stop playing. Promise me. And make this promise count.”
He stayed mute, and I felt the last rip of my heart as he refused to give me that much.
No longer able to control my sobs, I stumbled out the door and down the stairs toward Lexi, who looked at me wide-eyed before muttering, “Oh shit.” Ben was silent, his eyes filled with anger while he looked over my shoulder.
“Stella,” Reid said from the top of the steps, eyes steel green, face stone as he watched me cry. My breath stuttered as my body shook with silent sobs, pain on display, heart stung and fluttering in my chest in confusion. “I promise.”
A moment passed between us before I nodded. His eyes lingered briefly before he walked back into the apartment and closed the door.
That night I moved into my apartment while Reid Crowne left Austin—left me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Normally this is the part where you flip the tape over, or change one burnt CD for another, but technology has managed to make it more convenient for us all to relive our individual soundtracks anywhere, anytime, at our fingertips. All I had to do was press the little right facing triangle on my iPhone to submerge myself back into a life that seemed light years ago.
I had to hand it to technology, though. It played a major role in my success, but it didn’t happen overnight.
It was just like I’d told Reid: it takes years and one minute past desperation.
I waited that one minute.
It wasn’t about the if; it was about the when. I collapsed into the lumpy bed at the motel I’d found when exhaustion hit and tears began fusing with the rain-streaked windshield. I stared at the mustard-colored popcorn ceiling with my tweed jacket still on and my life’s tool in my hand. I sometimes wished I had a foggy memory. That I couldn’t remember the details, the dates, the story.
It was both my gift and my curse.
And music was my navigation. I had followed the music my whole life. My guidance, my protection, my ammunition. I followed it to Austin and into the arms of my first love, only to be ripped apart. But music was loyal and stayed with me, my constant, my comfort, and, at times, my enabler.
I rolled over in bed, facing the paneled wood wall. Though I wanted nothing to do with the damn time machine in my hand, I had no choice, because despite our differences about the journey, I remained loyal and took direction. And because I followed, the road narrowed and shed light on memories that just kept circling, begging to be acknowledged long after the last note. I stared at the ticking notifications on the bottom of the screen and ignored them, opting to send a text instead.
In a shitty motel behind a bolt-locked door. Don’t worry. I love you.
The bubbles started and stopped for an eternity. He’d had time to think and he was not a happy man.
Why the fuck aren’t you home?
That’s the thing about intimacy and truly knowing the person you’re with. They always know when something’s off, no matter how casually you try to sweep your unease away. They know. It’s the
ir job, because in the song of your life, they are the ones listening. It’s when they stop that you need to worry. He’d listened to mine. He knew when a beat was missing, or a note was forgotten. He’d memorized my song, and I was his favorite.
I’ll be home tomorrow night. I love you.
The bubbles started and stopped again, and I could feel the call coming, but he left it alone.
After a hot shower in the questionably yellow stall, I lay across the floral comforter and plugged in my time machine before I glanced at the clock.
11:11 p.m. Make a wish, Stella.
Whiter Shade of Pale: Annie Lennox
Seventeen days after Reid Crowne left Austin, I got an email.
“Stella!”
Ben was the one that answered the door when the drums were delivered. And if I weren’t so hell-bent on hating life, I would have laughed at the expression on his face. Instead, I signed for them as the delivery guys toted the huge box inside the apartment and set it in the middle of our poorly furnished living room.
“How the hell did you get the money for these?” Lexi asked as she shared a stupefied look with Ben.
“I didn’t buy them,” I said, my heart wilting as I remembered our day in the music store. “I won them.”
Ben shook his head with an ironic grin. “Only you, Stella. You’re like a fucking unicorn.”
“Hey,” Lexi protested and slapped his chest playfully, “and what am I?” She had her hands on her hips, her large eyes imploring his. It was just like I thought it would be. With zero reluctance from Lexi, due to Ben’s irresistible charm, they got together the minute Lexi got to Austin. And they were perfect for each other.
“Oh, baby,” he said as he cradled the sides of her face, “you’re my muse.”
Though happy for Lexi, I hated being so close to them. They had the warmth that was taken from me. As far as I was concerned, it was the coldest August in the history of Texas.
The cycle lasted about a week. Lexi got me drunk. Held my hand while I talked, and held my head while I threw up. Ben had the unfortunate luck of watching it unfold, too, due to his inability to stay away from Lexi, but I didn’t give a damn. I let myself bleed freely.
I’d only worked two shifts at the restaurant while Paige watched me like a hawk before I irresponsibly threw down my apron and told Leslie I quit. I refused to speak to Paige. She would never get the chance to say I told you so, just like I wouldn’t be able to with Reid.
In a matter of months, everything had changed between the three of us. A split-second decision to walk toward fire, while I was already engulfed in my own flames. I’d never felt that way about anyone and knew it could never happen again. He was my once . . . Reid was my once.
I went through the days in a blur. Ben was over constantly, usually wearing his Home Depot vest after a long day in the lumber department, and entertaining Lexi on our couch while I holed up in my room, staring out the window or walking around our complex, battling insomnia.
I had no words. I hadn’t listened to a single song that I wasn’t forced to at a gas station or a grocery store, which was detrimental to my writing. I had no words if there was no music. And he took it.
Reid took it.
Still, I’d finished enough new articles in my time at Paige’s and Reid’s, along with some old drafts I re-edited and considered print worthy. Without second-guessing myself, I sent them to Nate via email the morning our internet was connected. School was starting in a week and was my only saving grace while I was forced to witness Lexi and Ben’s beginning while I lived through my ending.
I existed before Reid, lived through loving him, and was left to exist again while knowing what living felt like.
“What are you going to do with them?” Ben asked, dragging me out of my stupor as I stared at the box. I could still smell the Irish Spring.
“I’m not doing anything with it.”
Ben furrowed his brows. “Sell them? Well, there’s about six grand in that box.”
“Six GRAND!” Lexi said, clapping her hands before I stopped her with a look.
She read my decision easily. “Oh, hell no, Stella! No. NO!”
I looked to Ben, who caught on just as quickly. “Hell no, after what he did?”
I held Ben’s gaze, mustering up the strength to get my verdict out. But it didn’t matter. The tears were already streaking my cheeks. “You know exactly who these belong to.”
“No,” Ben said, as if he had any say in the matter. He stood, arms crossed, as Lexi backed him up.
“Stop it,” I snapped. My words echoed Reid’s, which only cut me deeper. “You don’t ever turn your back on him, Ben, do you hear me? Ever. You said it yourself. You didn’t have the life he has. He’s in hell. He needs help and refuses to take it, but that doesn’t make it any less hot. You either take these to him or I’ll ship them.”
“Stella, he just left you. Cold as fuck. Cold as I’ve ever seen him. I watched it,” Ben said in a low voice.
I felt my face heat at the hard truth but pressed on. “Ben, I don’t deserve your loyalty, yet. You know him better than anyone else.”
He nodded.
“Then you know he did what he thought was the right thing. And you know those belong to him. He needs them, Ben.”
We stood silent a moment before Ben nodded. “You’re right.”
“I know I’m right.”
“No reason to get cocky.” He winked. “But that’s my girl.”
Lexi stared between us. “Neither of you is right,” she said. “God, Stella, this could pay a year’s rent!”
Even though Lexi knew the story, there really was no way for her to understand. We lived like queens compared to what Reid and I dealt with. And he’d done it a lot longer. Anyone that had never really gone without couldn’t truly understand that kind of poverty. How it robs your soul and warps your mind to believe the worst. Bearing witness to it and sympathizing isn’t living it. Even in the state I was in, some part of me recognized that I was too enamored, too blinded by love, that I didn’t see the reality, even when it was written all over everyone else’s face, especially Reid’s. And love wasn’t enough to stop the dimming light in his eyes or the defeat in his heart.
“Don’t give up on him,” I whispered to Ben, who held my gaze. “I promise you he’ll surprise you.”
Though I wasn’t sure I believed my words at that point, I begged Ben to believe me.
“I’m going to see him at his parents’ this weekend—”
I held up my hand as my heart raced. “Just tell them they were delivered to his apartment and the manager called Paige. Okay? He won’t take them if he knows they’re from me.”
“He’s not stupid, Stella.”
“Please, Ben. Please,” I said as more tears fell. “Convince him.”
Ben nodded. “And what if he asks about you?”
Would he even bother? I would never get over the look on his face the last time I saw him. As if he was completely void of feeling. A wall of anger mixed with a promise that had nothing to do with me.
“Tell him I’m mad. He’ll believe that. Tell him I won’t shut up about what an asshole he is. He thinks . . .” I croaked as I hung my head with a shaky breath. “He probably thinks I was just some kid with a crush.”
“That’s all fine and dandy, Stella, except you stopped talking, you don’t fucking eat, and you never sleep,” Ben said as he looked me over.
“Lie, Ben. And do a good job of it, okay? Everyone warned me. Everyone, including Reid. I’m the one who pushed us together. This isn’t his fault. He’s probably already forgotten about me.” I walked down the hall and shut my bedroom door.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Numb: U2
Heartache has the most annoying sound. It’s an echo. An echo of heartbeats stuck on a loop. But the good news was there was always a new sound to take its place. And I spent my days searching for it. After Ben returned from Nacogdoches, less one set of Ferrari drums, I forced myself t
o start searching for a new sound. I wanted out of the loop. I wanted to forget about my shitty three-month start in Austin, my sister, and the man who exiled himself from my life.
I got a job . . . as a waitress. Because short hours and good money were the only solutions when you had a full semester of credits to earn, which I did.
And as I walked through campus my first day at UT, a calm settled over me. It was the one thing that had gone according to plan. I felt safe. Even if Reid said it was an illusion.
I had to forgive music, and so I went all in.
My iPod was filled with nothing but aggression, and I stomped across campus on a mission.
I delivered frothy beers at the infamous Maggie Mae’s on 6th, killing two birds with one stone. I got to hear live music from the up and coming while I made money. It made sense. Everything was coming together, except for the jagged pieces of myself that rattled around in my chest like a noisy piece of costume jewelry.
Nate emailed me with good feedback on my columns and set up a date for us to meet at Speak to discuss my future.
He kept it professional, and I breathed out a sigh of relief when I wasn’t pressed for more.
Fall began despite the clinging summer temperatures.
Football season arrived, which meant better tips.
And Lexi and Ben fell in love.
Though I was powering through my life as planned, I was still in love with Reid Crowne.
And I fucking hated Dave Grohl.
Why? Because on every corner, I saw a scruffy-faced, ear-length, dark-haired guy with a T-shirt, jeans, and a metal chain wallet.
And my heart would stop.
And my throat would knot.
And I would shed a tear when the face, which wasn’t Reid’s, turned my way.
The Sergeants still played every week for money. And being the self-absorbed asshole I was, I couldn’t force myself to a single show. I took the low road, because it felt better to wither there.