“It crossed my mind,” I admitted.
“Oh, I wish. No, I was on leave and my brothers had set up their own Ninja Warrior course in my parents’ backyard.”
“That’s a big backyard.”
He shrugged. “They live on a ranch, actually.”
“Ah. So how did you do on the course?”
“It was great until my foot got caught on a shady piece of equipment.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah. Do you know how humiliating it is to have to extend your leave because you got hurt?”
“It led you to your passion though, right?” Looking on the bright side.
He smirked at me. “Yeah, I guess.”
“What did you call the energy highways?”
“Meridians.”
“Tell me how those work.”
He spent the next hour trying to explain the basics of energy medicine and acupuncture. Honestly, it was pretty fascinating even though I came into it with a healthy dose of skepticism.
When I yawned the fourth time, he decided it was time to take me home, and I couldn’t protest too much since I was beat.
♪♫♪
I went to bed but was awoken rudely by my phone going off at one thirty in the morning. It was Randy.
“Please tell me he’s not going to the hospital.”
“No hospital this time.”
I was relieved and then angry. “Why do you let him go to these bars, Randy?” I stumbled out of bed and started looking for pants.
“Because it would be illegal to physically restrain him. Because I was at home myself when his security guy called me. I don’t know. Take your pick.” He didn’t sound nearly as annoyed as he should have.
“How do you put up with it?” I asked, putting the phone on speaker and tossing it on my bed so that I could change out of my comfy pajamas.
His snort came over the line loud and clear. “I get paid to do this. The question is, how do you put up with it?”
I ignored the question, knowing that dwelling on it would just make things worse. “You know it will take me at least an hour to get there.”
“Actually, he’s in Newburgh. That’s why I called you. I’ll send you a pin.” He hung up.
Well. At least I wouldn’t spend half the night driving to and from New York City. It wasn’t until I was in my car that I remembered. Sean had said Randy wasn’t supposed to call me anymore. He’d said he was going to try to not get drunk, or whatever plan B was.
Yet, here I was, off to fetch Sean with my hair in two big buns at the side of my head and eyebrows way more prominent than I usually drew them in an attempt to be incognito. Because my life was ridiculous and I would really love to keep myself (or at least my name) out of the tabloids.
I arrived at the bar and realized that another upside of him being in town was that this wasn’t where the reporters hung out. I went straight up to where he sat and leaned against the bar right next to him. I tried not to scowl out of habit. If someone was going to take photos, I didn’t want them to be of me glaring at the rockstar. “It’s time to go, Sean.”
He focused on me and then closed his eyes, like he was upset. “They weren’t supposed to call you.”
I held my hands out in a shrug. “And yet, they did. So will you please just get up and walk with me to the car?”
“Why do they always call you?”
I breathed through my nose to push down my anger. “Because you won’t leave unless I drag my butt out of bed to fetch you,” I said through stiff lips. “And the last time they didn’t call me, you ended up in the hospital. Please, Sean. Can we please just leave?”
The desperate begging of my tone must have gotten through to him. “Fine.” He got up, but not before throwing back one more shot.
His poor liver.
I put my arm around his back and tried to look like we were just a couple, walking out of a bar. We went out the front and climbed into a car, which got us to his house in fifteen minutes. Will followed behind in my car.
Once I’d seen him dumped into his bed, I got my keys from Will and headed out. “You’re not staying?” he asked.
“He’s sleeping. You guys don’t need me for this part.” I resented the question. The implication that I would stay and baby him. I wasn’t his mom. His mom hadn’t been around for a long time.
♪♫♪
Jonas took me out the next weekend and the weekend after that.
I for one would have been happy to see him multiple times a week, but I had the sense that he was holding back on purpose, not willing to jump in all the way with me. I hated it. I craved more time with him. I saw in him a line of music that seemed the perfect complement to my own. And if our notes could just line up on the same page, the harmony would be breathtaking.
But I also knew I’d hurt him. I’d broken his trust and earning it back would take time. So I did my best to be patient.
CHAPTER TEN
Sean was going back to touring. It had been two and a half months since his injury, and I worried about him leaving the safe bubble of his house and going back out on the road. So when Randy offered to fly me to Houston so that I could be there for Sean’s first show back, I said yes without hesitation. Sean didn’t know I was coming. Surprising him would be more fun, so I flew out Saturday afternoon, making it there with just enough time to eat dinner and then get to the arena.
Going to a concert alone would bother some people, but I’d gotten used to it, even preferred it. I could stand there, swaying to his music and focusing all my energy on his performance—his brilliance.
He really was brilliant.
Why did he have to be so brilliant? Why did I have to love and hate his success in equal measure?
Watching him perform, seeing the way that he sank into his songs, did give me a strange peace. His life was hard, but it was clear he loved this part of it. He loved singing. He loved playing his guitar. He loved telling his stories.
When the end of the concert neared, I moved out of my seat and made my way backstage, flashing my badge to each security guard I passed. I watched him sing the last two songs from backstage, admiring the way he moved. He would lean into certain lyrics and pull back from others.
His last song finished with a hard beat and the arena exploded in cheers. He bowed, thanked the audience, gave credit to the other musicians who worked with him, thanked the audience again and then walked away with a wave.
I grinned as I watched him step backstage, sweaty but obviously satisfied with his performance. I was used to his after-concert routine, so it surprised me when a stage hand immediately approached and dropped something small into his hand. He threw whatever it was into his mouth, then took the bottle of water she offered.
A hard ball dropped in my stomach. I tapped Randy on the shoulder and pointed my chin in Sean’s direction. “What was that?”
“What?”
“The pills Sean just took.”
He looked over at Sean as he downed the rest of the bottle of water. “Pain meds. Any time he’s played for a long time, he has to load up.”
My heart seemed to pause. “Any time he plays for long?” I asked. “Does that include rehearsals?”