Page 6 of Take My Hand

And with what camera? Sure, I could go out and buy a new one on our next stop, but with what money? That realization sinks like a stone in my gut. Shit.

All of our paychecks were funneled through Daniel’s business account that he set up and then he would transfer my portion over to my checking account. I’m sure Boone could fix it where I get the direct deposits moving forward, but for the last months’ worth of work, Daniel hadn’t transferred any of the money to me yet, always saying that he forgot, or would do it when we got to the next stop and had some downtime.

If I went into my account now, I’m sure I would have a few hundred dollars in there. Enough to keep me going on the road for a bit here and to tide me over until the next paycheck. But enough to buy brand-new equipment in order to fulfill said job? Not a fucking chance.

“I don’t think I can.”

“Yes, you can. Boone said he wants you to stay. And I know Scar does too.”

I shake my head, allowing my short hair to fall in front of my face like a curtain so I can’t see him.

“No, I actually can’t. He took all our equipment with him. His camera, my camera, the lenses, everything.” I nudge a loose rock with the toe of my boot, something to distract from the growing silence between us.

When I finally look up and meet Hayden’s eyes, there is a renewed fire behind them. He’s pissed.

Shouldn’t I also be pissed?

I wonder why I’m not…

Maybe a part of me always knew this is how things would end between me and Daniel. Him leaving me in the dust with nothing.

“Don’t leave just yet, okay? Promise me you’ll stay on the bus at least until we get to our next stop. I don’t want you making a decision you’ll regret after the kind of day you’ve had.” Hayden’s voice is gentle despite the anger he’s harboring inside. He shivers as a harsh wind blows through, knocking the hood off of his head.

He reaches a tattooed hand up to pull it back over, and I wish he wouldn’t. I like watching the way the wind moves through the longer waves on top of his head; the sides cut close to his scalp.

“Come back inside. No one expects you to work tonight, but you gotta get out of the cold. And you can relax and just enjoy everyone’s sets tonight instead of running around taking photos of them.”

I pull my jacket tighter around my chest, trying to find a sense of warmth that seems to have left my body well before I stepped outside.

At this point, I don’t really have any better options.

“Alright, let’s go.”

The next day after having lunch with Scar and lamenting about what I’m going to do, I arrive back on the bus, prepared to call my dad and ask him for a loan to buy a new camera and a few necessary pieces I’ll need to finish out the rest of the shows. As much as I hate to do it, I know he’ll help me in any way he can.

When I called to inform him about Daniel leaving last night, I could hear the anger behind his voice, but also a hint of relief. Dad never liked him. Not from the very first time I brought him home, not from the first Christmas he joined us for, not from the day he and I moved into our first apartment together. But he was always cordial with him for my sake. Because I loved him.

Shit. I just said loved. As in past tense.

The realization hits me like a ton of bricks and scoops out a hollowness in my chest. It’s not even twenty-four hours, but I can feel the shift inside my heart already. The love isn’t completely lost, but I think subconsciously over the past months, I’ve been detaching myself little by little, and with him leaving yesterday, he broke the final straw.

I walk past the first few bunks before reaching mine and stop in my tracks, staring at the striped gift bag sitting on top of my blanket.

I hesitate, doing a double take to ensure this is my bunk. The stark white envelope sitting next to it is addressed to me in tiny, slanted handwriting.

Reaching for the envelope first, I tear it open. The front of the card has simple gold embellishing and I open it up to see a short note.

You deserve to be here, and I hope this will make it easier for you to stay.

Hayden

Surprised, I open the gift bag next.

Holy shit.

My jaw drops open, and I reach inside with an unsteady hand, pulling out a brand-new camera, along with a small black bag to store it, a few memory cards, and a handheld tripod.

This is too much. This is way too much. Even though I’m sure for Hayden, it’s a small drop in his pocket. But still.

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