Page 21 of A Little Campfire Blues

“You might have played because they asked, but that look of utter serenity you got while you were doing it was all you,” he replied. “No one can fake that.”

“How do you know?” I grumbled. “I’m good at faking a lot of things.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“Harrumph!” I huffed, pouting and crossing my arms now that my acoustic was back in its case.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he said, stepping up onto the rock and taking several steps towards me. “Why try and hide something you’re clearly passionate about?”

“Because being passionate about something doesn’t necessarily make you good at it.”

“Actually, that’s exactly how you get good.”

I heaved another sigh and refused to meet his gaze, even when he plopped himself down beside me and let his boots dangle over the water.

“Sucks when the dream doesn’t turn out the way you wanted it to, doesn’t it?” He said, though his tone, far away and filled with longing, made it difficult to tell if he was talking to me or musing to himself.

Was no use denying it. He’d know I was lying if I tried. “Yeah, it really does.”

“Kinda ironic,” he muttered.

Two words, and my curiosity was instantly piqued. “What?”

“That a pair of failed musicians should wind up at the same camp lamenting all the ways our lives haven’t turned out the way we’d hoped they would.”

Well, shit, he hit that nail square on the head.

“What happened to Whiskey River Revival?” I finally got up the nerve to ask.

“All the shit people warn you about when you tell them you wanna be a rock star,” he admitted. “Is that what happened to your band?”

“Sort of, though a couple of my bandmates really helped things along by making dumbass fuckin’ decisions.”

“That’s usually the way it works, though I can admit to making a ton of messed-up choices myself that contributed to the way things turned out.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I could have handled a few things differently, too.”

“Sometimes all we can do is live, learn, and pick ourselves up after we stumble, especially if we don’t have anyone else around to help us get back on our feet.”

“Roman helped, even if he doesn’t know just how much.”

“Then you should tell him. The people we love need to know when they’re doing the right things for us. That way they won’t give up or try something different.”

“At the time, he was going through way worse than what I was dealing with.”

“Struggle is struggle. You shouldn’t diminish your own by comparing it to someone else’s.”

“What you said last night, about wanting to spend time with us,” I began as I ran my fingers along the seam of my jeans. “Did you mean it?”

“I did, and I still do. But I respect the fact that you three have things going on you need to deal with.”

“Eight years ago we’d have jumped at the chance to hang out with someone who seemed like he was interested in all of us.”

“Lot of things can happen in eight years.”

“A lot of things did.”

“I bet.”

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