Page 66 of Sixty Days Of Summer

I stare at the screen, trying to wrap my head around what the hell is going on. Xander, noticing the shift in my expression, puts out the joint.

“What’s going on?” he asks, leaning forward on the couch.

“Kit’s on her way,” I reply.

Just as the words leave my mouth, there’s a knock at the door. I move over, open it, and step back to let her in. She walks by, flashing me a tender smile, and then sits down in the chair opposite Xander.

“What the hell has she done now?” I ask, bracing for the worst. It’s got to be about my mother—why else would Kit behere? I move back to the couch and sit down beside Xander. "Just give it to me straight. No bullshit.”

Kit glances at her phone, then back at me. “It’s not about your mother—it’s your sister, Daisy. She reached out.”

Her name hits me like a punch to the gut, a reminder of how she, just like everyone else, bailed when I needed her the most. Fuck, they’re all crawling out of the woodwork now. Next, it’ll be my father—whoever the fuck he is. I was barely old enough to remember anything about him.

“What did she want? Is she trying to cash in on my fucked-up childhood too?” I ask, feeling the anger simmering beneath the surface.

“She just reached out, Ace,” Kit replies, her tone steady. “She wants to connect with you.”

“No.” I push myself off the couch and start pacing. “She walked away a long time ago. Didn’t give a fuck about me then, so why the hell should I care now?”

Kit stands up and walks over to me. “If you change your mind, let me know. She gave me her number.” She offers me a soft smile before exiting the room, leaving me and Xander in a silence that feels heavy as hell.

I stand there, feeling the weight of it all. If I hadn’t lost my shit on that fucking camera, none of this would be coming back to haunt me. I glance at Xander, who’s sitting there, watching me like he’s waiting for me to crack.

I stay quiet for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts. Xander’s gaze doesn’t waver, and it pisses me off how calm he looks.

“What?” I finally snap, running my hands through my hair and tugging at the roots, as if that'll somehow relieve all this pressure.

He leans back, crossing his arms. “So what’s it gonna be, Ace? You gonna let this shit eat you alive, or are you gonna do something about it?”

I scoff and start pacing the room. “Do what? Call her up and act like the last how many fucking years didn’t happen? Like she didn’t bail on me and leave me to handle all that shit by myself?”

Xander stays silent, letting my words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating.

I stop and turn to him, my chest rising and falling. “You can’t talk. Remember what happened when you faced your old man again? This isn’t any different.“

“But she wasn’t the one who did any of that shit to you, Ace.”

“No, but she fucking walked out and left me to deal with it alone.” I shake my head. “You really think calling her is gonna fix everything? You want me to forgive her? Act like none of it ever happened. Fuck that.”

“No one’s asking you to forgive her,” he replies softly. “But maybe talking to her and asking her why she left could give you some answers.”

I walk over and sit back on the couch, slumping against the cushions. “I don’t know if I can do it, man.”

Xander and I sit in silence for a while. His presence is steady, grounding me. We don’t need words; the weight of our shared experiences is enough to know that we’re not alone in our struggles.

Eventually, he shifts the conversation to last night's show and how everything we’ve been working for since leaving the label is finally starting to come together. It’s a hell of a lot easier to focus on that—on the wins, on the music. He mentions meeting up with Walter later today for a drink and asks if I want to tag along.

I decline. I’m not in the mood to pretend everything's okay and slap on a happy face for the day.

After Xander heads out, I grab my phone and shoot a quick text to Scarlet. Being around her always pulls me out of my head, like she’s got this way of cutting through all the noise.

Ace:What r u doing?

I stare at the screen, waiting for those damn bubbles to pop up, but they never do. Impatience gnaws at me, and I start second-guessing myself. I should’ve just walked over there. Her room’s only three doors down.

Fuck it. I shove my phone into my pocket, slip on my shoes, and within seconds, I’m out the door, striding down the hall toward Scarlet’s room.

I knock, and she opens it almost immediately. That smile hits me straight in the chest, the kind that makes everything feel right because I know I’m the reason it’s there. “Hey,” I mutter as I step inside.

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