Page 118 of The Wreckage of Us

Fuck love and all its twisted fairy tales.

“This isn’t you, Ian,” Grams said in her gentle tones. I’d missed her. I’d slipped up on calling her to check in every week, and seeing her brought that guilt back to me instantly. I hadn’t been a good grandson lately, and I wasn’t that shocked.

I hadn’t been a good person as of late.

“People change, Grams. Maybe this is who I am now.”

“No.” Big Paw shook his head. “This isn’t you, dammit. You aren’t some drunk.”

I shrugged. “My parents weren’t always meth heads, but they changed too. Maybe I just take after my parents a little more than usual.”

“Shut it, you damn idiot!” Big Paw shouted, shooting up from his chair. He paced back and forth, slapping his hands together in anger—or maybe disappointment? Maybe sadness?

When he looked up at me with tears flooding his eyes, my messed-up heart cracked even more. I’d never seen Big Paw cry in all my life, and watching him stand there before me with tears rolling down his cheeks made me want to kick my own ass for being difficult.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You don’t know what it feels like knowing you’re losing everything around you. You don’t know what we’ve been going through back here, Ian, and you have the nerve to throw away your life like it doesn’t matter. You’re selfish—just like your parents. You’re goddamn selfish, and you can’t pull your head out of your own ass to see how much your actions are hurting others.”

Grams stood up and walked over to Big Paw. “Harry, calm down ...”

“No. I’m done. If he wants to be a drunk, then by all means. Die the same miserable way that my father did. But don’t do it here. If you want to ruin yourself, go back to LA, and do it surrounded by people who don’t give a damn about you. I refuse to watch another person I love lose themselves. It was too hard the first time, and I’m tired.” He brushed his tears away and stormed out of the house. Grams chased after him, leaving me with the guys, who all looked guilty as ever.

I scrubbed my hands over my face and released a weighted sigh.

James grimaced. “I’d never seen Big Paw cry,” he muttered.

“Me either,” I replied.

Marcus raked his hands through his hair. “Look, Ian. We weren’t trying to gang up on you bringing you back to Eres. I know you have a lot of shit going on, and I thought being back where we’d fallen in love with music would help. Getting back to our roots. But if you want to go back to LA and record those tracks from Warren Lee, then we’ll do that. Because when we said ‘until forever,’ we didn’t mean until things got messy. We fucking meant until forever. Always. We got your back regardless.”

I couldn’t believe the jerk I’d been lately. I couldn’t believe the way I’d lost myself on the road to success or how I’d let my heartache swallow me whole. I didn’t want to be like this. I didn’t want to be so damn broken, but I couldn’t help it. I was drowning, and my family and friends were trying their hardest to pull me up for air.

Unlike in my dream, they were reaching out. I was simply being too stubborn to give them my hand.

“I’m sorry, you guys, for ... everything. I’m not doing too great after everything that went down. I’m going to do better and work on getting back on track. I know we have to decide what to do for the music, and you need answers from me on what we should do sooner than later.”

“Take the next day to regroup and focus on yourself, man. Minus the booze, of course,” Eric said. “Then we’ll come back together and take a group vote on it all.”

“Although we’d already have our votes, so realistically, whatever you decide will be vetoed,” Marcus joked. “Really, though, take your time, Ian. We’ll be around seeing our families and stuff. Just give us a call.”

The guys headed out, and I sighed as I rolled my hands over my face. I felt exhausted in all ways—physically, mentally, and emotionally burned out.

When a knock landed on the door, I got up and headed over to find Hazel standing there.

“Why are you knocking on your own door?” I asked.

“It was your door before it was mine.”

I didn’t know what to say to her next, even though there were a million things that I felt needed to be said.

I scratched at the back of my neck. “Don’t worry; I’ll stay in the shed again tonight. You don’t have to worry about me getting in your way.”

“I’m not worried about that. I ...” Her eyes glazed over, and it appeared as if she, too, had a million things that needed to be said.

Say it, Haze. Fucking say it to me, and I’ll say my words back.

Her rosy lips parted, and I almost leaned in to taste them; then she shut them. Sealed them up tightly and gave me a pathetic smile that wasn’t a smile at all.

Even though her lips turned up, I saw the sadness in the curve.

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