Page 14 of Sixty Days Of Summer

Finally, a genuine smile spreads across Theo’s face, accompanied by a light-hearted chuckle.

“Yeah, I kept telling the idiot something was broken, but he wouldn’t listen. It’s like he thought he was invincible or something.”

“I know,” I laugh, reminiscing about the countless attempts Theo made to get Nate to admit that something was wrong. I can vividly picture Theo’s unmistakable handwriting, with its large, bold letters etched onto Nate’s cast, mocking him: “I told you, dickhead, it was broken."

He watches me, a small laugh escaping his lips as he gives my hand a gentle squeeze, almost as if he’s savoring the memory. It’s a soothing moment, offering a brief escape from the whirlwind of anxiety that has consumed me since Ace broke the news. As I wipe a stray tear from under my eye, I steal a glance at Ace and Xander. They sit across from us, their faces filled with seriousness as they quietly observe our interaction.

“I’ll be right back,” I murmur, giving Theo’s hand a final reassuring squeeze before getting up and walking towards the bathroom.

As I step into the bathroom and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I’m struck by the sight. The bruise on my face has turned a nasty shade of purple, looking even worse in the dim light. I move closer, setting my bag down on the counter with a thud. I turn on the faucet, and the sound of rushing water fills the room as I let the cool liquid flow into my cupped hands. I splash the water onto my face, hoping that the sensation will help me forget the overwhelming events of the day.

As I turn off the water, I rest my palms against the countertop, taking deep breaths to calm myself. The facade I’ve been maintaining is showing signs of wear and tear, revealing the deep-seated insecurities that constantly plague me. As I stare into the mirror, I can’t help but imagine the shock on my parent’s faces when they see the deep purple bruise on my face. I’ve always been the one who feels like a leaf caught in the wind, lacking a clear purpose or sense of stability. My life feels like a never-ending mess: no steady job, no reliable income, no safe place to call home. The longest job I ever held was with the band, where coincidentally my ex, Beck,was the lead singer. Relationships? They’re as unstable as my career prospects. If I were to join another band, I’d have to navigate through a sea of sleazy dickheads and entitled male groupies who makeunwarranted advances. But music is my lifeline, it flows in my blood.

With all their success and fame, I bet it’s a whole different world for my brother’s band. I know how groupies practically throw themselves at musicians, hungry for a taste of the excitement. Resisting that kind of temptation is a challenge for most guys. My two brothers seem to revel in it; sometimes, it feels like their way of numbing the pain from losing Bianca all those years ago. And Ace? It’s clear that he enjoys it as well, his vibe gives it away.

I can’t help but wonder if he gives all those groupies the same mind-blowing pleasure he gave me, which was the most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced. Even though Ace made it clear it was just a one-night thing, he made sure to satisfy me in ways I didn’t even know were possible. In that moment, overwhelmed by an insatiable hunger, lost in a whirlwind of desire, I screamed his name. That kind of surrender was completely new to me. Maybe that’s why I am filled with a deep longing to feel his touch once more.

Based on what I know about Xander, I don’t think he would be into the groupie scene at all. Maybe back in the day, before Poppy and Alex came into the picture, but from what Nate’s told me, Xander’s been head over heels for Poppy since high school. Their love is something else—stronger than anything I’ve seen. It’s real, deep, and unwavering. That’s exactly the thing I desire. I want someone to love me with the same unwavering devotion that Xander loves Poppy. Rather than being seen as just a quick fuck or a pretty face, I strive for a genuine connection with someone who sees me for who I really am, not just the surface.

After reapplying concealer to my face and masking the purple tinge on my cheek, I feel a slight sense of relief, despite the faintly lingering discoloration. With a resigned sigh, I grab my bag, take a deep breath, and head toward the door.

As I crack open the bathroom door, my heart skips a beat when I hear my parents’ voices. Peering out, I see them clearly.

With her arm around his waist, Mom stands beside Theo—a constant source of comfort she has provided throughout his troubled upbringing. Mom and Dad have always been there for Theo, encouraging him in everything he does and believing in his potential.

I shift my gaze to Dad, taking in the sight of his tattooed arms crossed over his chest as he engages in conversation with Ace and Xander. He’s always had a soft spot for those two, admiring their talent and how seamlessly they integrated with Nate and Theo. From the moment he met them, he could tell they were genuine guys.

I take another deep breath, feeling the air fill my lungs as I prepare myself to face them. I square my shoulders and emerge from the bathroom.

As soon as I step out, I can feel my dad’s gaze fixed on me. His eyes narrow, focusing on the attempt I made to conceal the bruises, leaving no doubt that he has connected the dots. My pulse spikes. I should’ve known there’s no hiding anything from him. I see it in his face—the furrowed brows and determined set of his jaw—as his protective instinct kicks in.

Ace and Xander, sensing his change in demeanor, turn their heads to see what has caught his attention.

"Scar, what the fuck happened to you?" His voice carries a sharpness that demands immediate obedience, and loaded with that heavy authority only a father can wield.

My mother and Theo both cast worried glances in my direction. With a quick glance at Ace and Xander, I turn my focus back to my dad, forcing a weak smile to appear on my face.

“Oh, you know me,” I shrug, trying to play it off, “always tripping over my own two feet.” Yes, I admit that I can be clumsy at times, but deep down, I know that if my dad ever found outwhat truly happened, he’d be ready to tear Beck apart for hurting his little girl. But for now, this isn’t about me—it’s about Nate. Right now, he’s the one who needs our focus and support.

My mom lets go of Theo and hurries over to me, providing a much-needed distraction. I’m aware my dad isn’t buying my flimsy excuse, and I can almost hear his voice demanding more details in the back of my mind. Her arms wrap around me, pulling me into a warm and comforting embrace, providing a much-needed respite. It’s mentally draining to conceal my true self, a person who feels lost and lacks a clear purpose in life.As Nate’s dream of becoming a famous drummer came true, my own dreams remained trapped in a frustrating loop, forever out of reach.

“Hey, baby,” Mom whispers, her warm breath tickling my ear. “How are you holding up?” She pulls back slightly, her smile carrying a touch of sadness. She’s perceptive enough to detect that there’s more going on than meets the eye. I can’t help but wonder if Theo let something slip—his nervousness always gives him away, especially when Mom starts pressing him. He’s always been quick to crack under pressure, like that time she grilled him about whether Nate and I were drinking at parties and he immediately spilled the beans.

“I’m just worried about Nate,” I say, trying to divert the conversation from any serious talk, especially with my father and the guys present.

"I’m worried too, sweetie, but he’ll be okay. We both know your brother and how resilient he is." She smiles warmly and gives me a reassuring squeeze before taking my hand and guiding me back toward the group.

As I lift my gaze, I meet my dad’s eyes and then walk over to hug him. I feel his muscular arms enveloping me, creating a sense of safety and comfort. I’ve always been a daddy’s girl, spending countless hours in the garage with him, surrounded bythe scent of motor oil working on one of his many motorcycles. He’s never treated me differently just because I’m a girl, and I appreciate that he’s always given me the same opportunities as Nate and Theo.

As he holds me, I can feel his unwavering support, unspoken yet palpable. “If that asshole hurt you, Scar, you need to tell me,” he says, his voice filled with a mix of anger and protectiveness.

“I would, Dad,” I say, attempting to brush it off, “but it was just me being clumsy.” Despite knowing I should tell him the truth, I find myself too embarrassed and emotionally drained to confront the situation right now.

The room falls silent as the doctor enters. Hand in hand, my mother and father stand before the middle-aged physician, their expressions filled with both hope and concern.

Stepping closer, Theo’s hand finds mine, and I can feel the tension coursing through him as we anxiously await an update on Nate. Ace and Xander take a step back, creating distance as the doctor bombards us with incomprehensible medical jargon that makes my head spin.

When I glance at my dad, I can tell from his puzzled look that he is just as confused as I am. After a few seconds, he raises his hand, signaling for the doctor to stop.

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