Page 53 of Drum Me Away
Dear God, he’d left me. Again.
Only this time, I knew he wasn’t coming back.
And I was entirely to blame. I’d been keeping him at arm’s length for our entire relationship, and now, when I should be embracing him, letting him in, I’d done him one worse.
I’d alienated him. I’d pushed him away when all he’d been trying to do was stand by my side. Be my support.
Love me.
I couldn’t let this happen. I couldn’t let him go.
I wouldn’t let him go.
It was time to face my fears. It was time to win him back.
It was time to tell him how I really felt.
CHAPTER19
Lucas
Laceyand I both propped our feet on the porch railing. Hers were bare, mine were encased in leather flip-flops. She lived in a giant, old house with a bunch of other seasonal performers, just outside of downtown Branson. She and her roommates all worked together at Silver Dollar City, pretending to be various characters in order to soak tourists out of their hard-earned cash.
Hey, her words, not mine.
“Thanks for letting me crash here,” I said, lifting my beer and tapping the neck against hers.
“Of course,” she responded. “Although you stand a much higher risk of being recognized here than if you stayed with Mom and Dad.”
But then I’d have to explain why I was hiding out in the middle of a tour, why I was moping around like my dog had been hit by a car.
I had to explain it to Lacey, yeah, but she hadn’t been in a thirty-five year, loving, happy relationship, so she wasn’t about to dole out advice I didn’t want to hear. Lacey, according to her, had never been in love, so she figured she had no right to do anything except share her beer and sit in comfortable silence, unless, of course, I wanted to talk about it.
Which I didn’t, so I appreciated her viewpoint.
“So far, so good,” I responded. It’d been three days, and none of her roommates had given an inkling they knew who I was. They were performers themselves, though, albeit on a much smaller scale, so maybe they did know and were allowing me this secret little hideout until I was able to get my shit together.
Whenever the hell that might occur.
“I’m thinking about quitting the band,” I blurted, mostly because it was eating me up inside, this thinking, thinking, thinking about it.
The front legs of her chair hit the wooden porch slabs with a thud, and I glanced over to find her staring at me with wide eyes and her mouth hanging open.
“Gonna catch flies,” I halfheartedly teased, tapping her chin.
She snapped her mouth closed. “But it’syourband.”
“It’s hers too. And bringing on a new drummer won’t fuck up the sound nearly as much as taking away the second voice.” Not to mention, Faith probably had no thoughts about quitting. She probably wouldn’t even realize I was thinking about it.
I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t live with her—on or off the road—day in and day out, knowing I couldn’t have her and would never be able to get over her, either. At least if I distanced myself, maybe, in time, my heart would stop yearning for her and I could finally live my life again.
“You’re insane,” my ever-honest sister said. “Have you even tried talking to her?”
“Yep.” We’d made great inroads, too, until that viewing, when I realized Faith was never going to stop wishing she could be someone she wasn’t.
“Since the viewing?” Lacey persisted.
I didn’t respond. Faith had called and texted. And called and texted. So had Dahlia and Gabe and everyone else in the band. I talked to Matt, but when he started talking about love and open communication, I pretended the call dropped, and I haven’t responded to any of their summons since.
