“We’re out here living this life because of me. Because all I could stand after Amy died was playing my drums. It was the only thing to drown out every other sound or thought from my head.”
“Are you saying you regret that? Look at us.”
I don’t regret that. But every time we play live, I still look to the first row where she was always supposed to be.
I take a sip of my beer instead of answering him.
“If we hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have Adalyn. I wouldn’t be with Vi because she’d likely be married to Gus. Miserable, of course.” He gives me a cheeky grin. “Gus wouldn’t have Naomi. And you wouldn’t have met Maia.”
“Yeah, the girl who is launching bottle rockets in my head.”
“Exactly,” Jasper says like I just figured out something monumental. Funny, it doesn’t feel that way. “You’ve got some dark shit stuck in your head. Maybe it’s time someone came in and blew all that up. Pushed it out. Forced you to deal with it in a way you never did.” He blows out a breath, leaning forward and dropping his elbows to his thighs as he levels me with his discerning gaze. “You never talked about what happened with Amy. You never told us anything about what you went through that night and we didn’t push because what could we have said? We were young and rattled. We had no comfort to offer you other than playing music and just being there. You were beyond grieving. You were entrenched in a tragedy that pulled you apart and left your pieces under an ocean of guilt. Maybe Maia is your antidote, but in order to snuff out the disease you have to be sick with it.”
“I’ve been sick with it for ten years.”
“Yes, and we still don’t know anything about it or how to help you because you won’t talk about it. That in itself breeds more toxins. That is never a cure. Why the fuck do you think I write so much, man? The truth is always there, lurking under the surface. Ignoring it doesn’t make it go away, it makes it fester.”
I don’t know how to talk about that night. How to let it go. How to get over all the things I did wrong. All the decisions I wish I could change and can’t.
I wake up drenched in a cold sweat from nightmares. My insides quake every time I think or say her name. I don’t know how to stop that. He can say that talking helps you heal, but they also say that about time, and in ten years, I haven’t healed. Not even a little.
Some wounds might be unrepairable. No matter what you do.
“What was your breaking point with Viola?” I ask instead.
Jasper chuckles under his breath, taking a sip of his beer. “She was. She was absolutely my breaking point. That woman made it so that it got to the point where no matter what I did or how hard I tried to resist her or how much I pretended to hate her; she saw right through. And she found every weak chink in my armor and exploited it. In truth, I was doomed from the start with her.”
I sag. Like actually fucking sag. Like a ten-year-old boy who was just told his favorite video game is no longer in production.
“How deep into her are you?”
I take a long pull of my beer, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and staring down at the dark floors. “Here’s the thing about that… it’s complicated. How can I ever fully tell if my feelings for her are about her or if they’re tied to Amy?”
“Do you think about Amy when you’re with her?”
“Sometimes. Not often. Not really in the last week or so. But at first, yeah. At first, I compared them a lot. When I first got a good look at her face, Amy was all I could think about.”
“You know, I don’t think they look that much alike.”
I glance up. “No?”
“No. I mean, sure, the hair color is similar. But lots of girls have light blonde hair, right? Especially in this town.”
“I guess,” I relent.
“And maybe their noses and high cheekbones are also similar. But would you even notice that if it weren’t for the hair?”
I take another sip and sit back, tossing my ankle up onto my opposite knee. “I don’t know. That night she hit me, all I saw was Amy. Bleeding. Standing there a mess, and I just…”
I swallow so hard. But it does zilch to clear the emotion that clogs my throat when I think about Amy bleeding. About all the ways I couldn’t help her when she truly needed me to. A bone-deep tremor rattles through me as visions assault every ounce of my mind.
“I don’t know how to be with someone anymore. Fuck, I haven’t wanted to since Amy. It’s just not worth it to me, man. None of it is. In truth, the idea of being with someone scares the shit out of me. I loved Amy with everything I had and then…”
Jasper waits me out, sitting patiently, but his eyes are on mine, letting me know he’s waiting for me to continue and won’t accept anything else.
“I don’t want to hurt Maia. I don’t want to let her down. She’s so young and so inexperienced and has been wronged so much by people who were supposed to love her. Who she should have been able to trust and rely on.” Like me, I don’t add, but I’m certain he knows I’m thinking it. “My head is a mess. And I don’t see this thing between us going any other way than bad. It’s wrong. I know it is.”
“But you can’t resist her, otherwise you wouldn’t be here,” he surmises, and I hate how Jasper does this. Gus told me all about the day he laid it straight for him with Naomi and even though I showed up on his doorstep tonight, I’m terrified beyond my wits.
What if he says something brilliant? What then?
What if he gives me a green light or makes things sound so perfect in my head?
What if I try to be with Maia only to have it implode, hurting us both?
“Is Amy the last woman you let yourself care for? Before Maia, I mean.” And here we go. Jasper psych 101. That’s not even a life rule, it’s just a universal truth. His comment about me caring for Maia isn’t even a lead-in. It’s a foregone conclusion because the bastard knows all.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I spring out of my seat, heading for the window and downing the rest of my beer in two large gulps, wishing it were Jack. My gold standard. My savior on so many nights when I thought my necrotic heart would finally find a way to pound its way out of my chest, coated in a blackness and baked in insufferable heartbreak. Loss may be an inevitability for us all, but when the one you love is savagely, wrongfully stolen from you like a thief in the night, leaving your soul decimated and unsalvageable, you don’t recover.
You don’t.
I’ve been trying for years.
In order to prevent further destruction, you go to extremes to stop that loss from happening again. In any form. But then something, or someone in this case, comes along and blindsides you. Hits you in the one place you weren’t expecting. And that’s it. Show’s over, folks, you’re fucking done for.
Then what do you do?
“Do you think time will help?”
No. “Maybe,” I answer.
“Then give yourself time to figure out what’s best for both of you. What you can stand to live with and who you can’t stand to live without. But I’m going to be honest since bullshit is really more Gus’s bag than mine. I think you’re perfect for each other. We all do.” I spin around and he just rolls his eyes at my murderous expression. “Yeah, brother. We talked about it. Grow up and shit. What did you expect?”