Page 16 of The Drummer

“Look, I get it. You had a rough road,” I continue. “But it’s time to get back up and move on. You think you’re the only one who’s suffering? You think yours was the only life ruined? You know that’s not fair, and if anyone can understand this, it’s me.”

My heart is pounding, my blood thick with pain and emotion I can’t begin to sort out.

Flashes of cold rain.

Sodden earth.

The horror of watching your best friend die.

The terror of knowing you’re about to follow.

“And anyway, what about the other guys, huh? What about your band, yourfriends? What about our dreams and lives that got all messed up when you walked away and left us with a shell of what we could’ve been? Do you ever think about that? You think we want to be playing nightclubs and opening for singing competition winners when we were booking stadiums a year ago? The Calisto Festival? God, what a joke.”

I slam my napkin on the table. “At some point suffering gets old and is just selfish. Call me when you’re ready to be friends again.”

I launch to my feet and escape before I say something there’s no coming back from. The agony on Luke’s face while I exploded on him is already choking me with guilt.

He hates himself. I know this.

He sabotages any attempt to get close to him. I know this too.

And still I let my anger get the best of me.

A blast of fresh air when I storm outside immediately cools my temper. I have no idea what to do next as I hover on thesidewalk. My head is spinning with emotions. Remorse. Regret. Fuckingrelief.

I’d been sitting on that poison for so long. For ten seconds, it felt good to let it out. To bring him intomypain for one damn second.

But now, standing in the silent aftermath, knowing I just crushed a man who’d already pulverized himself to nothing, only the remorse remains. He may have deserved that, but it didn’t fix anything. And now I’ve done the opposite of what I came to this city to do.

Maybe that’s the insight I’ve been looking for. Maybe my answers are in the questions.

Did I come here for Luke or myself?

What kind of man is Casey Barrett?

What kind of man do Iwantto be?

I run a hand through my hair, paralyzed by regret and the constant fear I’ve been carrying since the day I learned my childhood “normal” wasn’t okay. I’ve spent the last decade fighting fate. Trying to be betterthan what the world expects of me, given my hard past and harder present.

Every instinct tells me to book an earlier flight and leave Luke to his misery. No one would blame me for running back to my own mess I’ve been trying so hard to survive.

But when I reach for my phone, I can’t shake the image of bright hazel eyes. A smile that has no business in our disaster, yet plunged head-first for reasons I still don’t understand. If her light is strong enough to break through Luke’s clouds, maybe there’s hope for my own.

Maybe I can be the man I want to be, the man I feared had died with my sister.

So instead of pulling out my phone, I turn right and start walking.

Past the independent bookstore and rusted bike rack. Pastthe pawn shop advertising lottery tickets and the bench in desperate need of a paint job.

I walk and keep walking.

Two blocks, then three, toward a luxury hotel with an empty suite on the fourth floor.

I’m not sure if I came here for Luke or myself, but I’m staying for hope—thanks to an angel named Callie.

CHAPTER THREE

Luke says nothing when he finds me seated on a chair in the hotel lobby. His only reaction is a flash of surprise, then irritation. I don’t know if it’s at me or himself.

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