Page 142 of The Drummer

But I can’t shake that disturbing undercurrent. A warning echo worms through my brain, and by the time we break for the food Callie ordered, I’m struggling to project the same excited energy the other guys have.

“Sounding great, dude,” Sweeny says, clapping my shoulder as I rise and stretch my aching body. “Good call on the riff. Well, on all of it, I guess.”

I return a stiff smile and run the hem of my shirt over my forehead in a pretend attempt to wipe off sweat. Really, I just don’t know how to hide the strange burning in my chest.

“I think you should unleash for the outro,” I say. He tilts his head, and I nod toward his guitar on the stand. “Don’t play the same riff at the end. Just let loose and see what happens.”

His expression brightens at the green light. “You got it, boss.”

While Sweeny takes off for the restrooms, Luke and Eli chat about basslines by Eli’s amp.

I use the break to find Callie at the other side of the room. I try to muster more fake excitement for her sake, but I’m too depleted. I can’t hide from her anyway. I never could. It’s one of the many things I love about her.

“Thanks, Callie,” I say, inspecting the sandwiches and snacks as a last ditch effort to distract her from my sudden shadows. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Just don’t yell at me,” she jokes. I try to reward her with a smile but must fail when she softens into encouragement mode.

“You guys sound amazing,” she says, confirming my fears. She knows I’m struggling.

“Yeah?”

My fingers press into the wheat roll I’m holding. I don’t even realize how hard I’m squeezing until the contents ooze out.

I drop the sandwich onto a plate.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Callie asks, shifting close.

I could lie. Maybe I should.

Sweeny is back from the bathroom and joins Luke and Eli. They’re now debating a variation on the progression for the final chorus. I love seeing them joking around and swapping ideas like old times. It also hurts like hell.

Yeah, I could lie, but I’m not sure what that would accomplish.

I drop the plate on the cart and motion for her to follow me from the room. Once we’re in the hall, I turn to her, but no words come out. I don’t even know how to explain what I’m feeling. I should be flying high. Iwasflying high. Parts of me still are.

But there’s this other part…

“Casey, what’s wrong? Are you not happy with the song?”

She draws my attention back to her, and I breathe through a swell of mangled emotions.

“No, it’s not that. I mean, the song is going well, great actually, it’s just…”

That first show without Luke.

The interviews without Luke.

The radio appearances without Luke.

The long nights, empty hotel rooms, quiet tour buses, never ending questions I can’t answer for myself let alone everyone else.

The pressure, the pain, the lonely trudge through what could have been…

Callie startles me back to the present with a squeeze on my arm.

My gaze collides with hers. “This is killing me, Callie.”

The words come out weak and shattered, like the state of my heart.

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