Page 33 of Rebel

“We’re bandmates. It’s what we do,” I say. “Your skill isn’t tied to your addiction. Let’s prove it, okay?”

I grab my guitar and start strumming the tune he was.

“I don’t know . . .” He rubs the back of his head. “I’ve never written with another person before.”

“Well, you start singing, and I can always change the song up a bit or add some things. Don’t think, okay? Just sing.” He frowns at me, so I start again at the top of the tune, giving him the time he needs. When it doesn’t seem to work, I start to hum, and his gaze comes back to me, and I start to sing random ass words that mean nothing. A small smile curves his lips, and he joins in.

I can’t help my chuckle as the song turns into random rhymes and phrases. When I restart the rhythm again, I nod at him, and then he takes a deep breath and starts to sing. I slow the rhythm down to match the type of lyrics that pour out.

“Flying high, walking the line, I was hoping to die but it never happened. Revived and alive, I took more to drown it out?—”

It’s clear he’s singing about his struggle with addiction, and it’s absolutely not my place to step in, so I just sit here with him, letting him know I’m here and he’s not alone as he pours his soul into the raw lyrics.

“I’m so sorry for falling once more. I didn’t mean to hurt you. We’ve been down this path before. I say it’s over, that I won’t do it anymore. We both know it’s a lie, and I’ll be high before first light?—”

Tears fill my eyes as he closes his own, singing from his heart. He stumbles over a few bits and then restarts it, and I just make sure to keep the slow rhythm for him to work it out with. It’s amazing watching his brain in action and hearing his story. Chase is a pretty face, but he’s also so much more. He’s a flawed human just trying to find his place in this world like everyone else. He’s made mistakes, he has done shit he isn’t proud of, yet here he is, pouring it out so others can hear.

So that someone might not feel as alone in their struggle.

Yes, it’s cathartic for him as well, but being creative means putting parts of yourself into everything you make. You give yourself to the public and hope it’s enough, and that’s what Chase is doing. He’s letting them decide if he’s enough. He’s asking for forgiveness when all he truly needs to do is forgive himself.

The truth is, you can start again whenever you need to. It’s never too late. You can start again as many times as it takes. It’s your life, and as long as you live it in a way that makes you happy, then you don’t owe anyone else anything.

When I fade off, so does he, breathing heavily.

Our eyes meet in the silence after the music stops, the air heavy with tension.

Chase is raw, vulnerable, and beautiful. I understand why angels fall for the devil.

His music always made me feel like going to church. It was a holy moment, but seeing it up close was a whole different experience.

I grin at him. “You just wrote a song,” I tell him. “Guess I was right after all.”

As I stand to get back to rehearsal, he catches my hand. “Thank you, Beck. I mean it. I thought I was burnt out and forgotten like everyone said, that I was nothing without the drugs. Thank you for showing me otherwise.”

“You did it all yourself, Chase. It’s inside you, don’t ever doubt yourself,” I murmur, squeezing his hand.

“Time to play!” Trav calls, completely unaware of the tension as he stumbles back inside, shoving the rest of his chips in his mouth.

I grin at Chase as we head back to rehearse. Time is of the essence, but as we sing and practice, he smiles at me more. It’s natural. It’s like a barrier has dropped between us now, and I like it a little too much.

I have to remind myself of the truth, but as I stare into those hazel eyes, that truth starts to get a little lost.

During practice, I find myself watching Kolton. He’s smiling, playing, laughing, and joking. He reaches for the guys a lot, handing them drinks or even dancing with them. He doesn’t seem to mind dancing with me too, but I don’t want to step over a line, and if what Chase said is true, then he has trauma with women that I don’t want to make worse, so I make sure to stay back without making it obvious. I don’t flirt with him while I sing like I would have. I thought I was chill about it, but when we pack up, I feel eyes on me, and when I glance over, I find Kolton frowning at me. I quickly look away, not wanting to embarrass him.

Once back at the house, I excuse myself, and after showering and flopping onto my bed, I find my hand reaching for the tapes. I need to know. I have to know.

“Hey, I don’t know why I’m recording tonight, other than I wanted to call you. I wanted to hear your voice, but I knew you wouldn’t answer. Our show was tonight, and it went well. I wish you were here. I wish you could see me. I wish . . .” She sighs. “Well, I wish a lot of stuff.” She goes quiet for a bit. “I know our relationship is completely messed up, and I know we’ll never be okay again, but I miss you. I miss you so much, and at night I lie here and remember everything. Everything I said. Everything I did. I wish I could take it back, but I can’t. I’m sorry.” I hear tears in her voice, and my own choke me as I close my eyes.

Hearing her pain always killed me, and it hurts even more so now, knowing she was struggling alone.

“I just miss you. I thought this would be everything I wanted, but it’s nothing without you.”

I skip to the next tape, wiping my eyes.

“Drugs, drinking, and sex doesn’t help. I think I’m sick,” she whispers.

I hear the noise of the city and know she was walking in this one. It makes me wonder where and if I could find it and walk the path she took while she recorded this.

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