“I know. I just wish I was there for Shane when he left, and I don’t want him to think that I selfishly put myself first. He’s been very supportive, but I haven’t heard from him all week. He said he didn’t want to intrude on your visit…” I shook my head in frustration. “Something seems off.” Since our calls could last for hours, I’d accepted his excuse. But when my parents hadn’t mentioned him, either, I grew suspicious. I decided to let it go and would ask Shane what had really stopped him from calling the next time we spoke, until my father appeared as if he had something more he wanted to say. “What?”
Instead of responding to me, he called out to my mom. “Camilla, we’ll be right in.” She nodded before taking Trestan’s hand and disappearing inside the restaurant. My father then took my shoulders in his hands and said, “Your mom and I debated on whether to tell you this.” I could literally feel the blood draining from my face and rush into my heart, forcing it to pump ferociously.
“Dad, you’re scaring me. It’s Shane.” It wasn’t a question, and a nod had me feeling light-headed.
“Livi, he’s fine… but last weekend in Seattle he kind of lost control and got very drunk.”
“How drunk?” My mind immediately assumed that meant he had done something stupid.
“They had to pump his stomach.”
And then guilt over not trusting him crushed me along with that news. “They what?”
“Like I said, he’s fine. Apparently, their opening night in Portland had been a challenge for him. I don’t know if nerves hit him hard, but he fumbled through the show, and we all know that is unlike him. Cannon tried to talk to him, and Jack offered to fly out, but Shane insisted he was okay. But when they played in Seattle next, he used booze to chill out and went a bit overboard.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. That wasn’t Shane. “You weren’t going to tell me this?” I asked incredulously.
“We didn’t want to put a damper on our visit and were just trying to figure out when a good time to tell you would be.” My father cupped my face, skimming a thumb across my cheek to catch a tear. “And I probably shouldn’t have told you now, but you looked so lost.”
My insides twisted. “Why would he do something like that?”
“Livi, we can’t judge him on his behavior. Christ knows, of all people, I can relate why he needed to numb himself. We can only be there for him and ensure he moves back into familiar territory… the place where he isn’t dependent on shit like that to get through.”
“Is he okay now?”
“Yes, he is.”
“Then why hasn’t he called me?”
“In his defense, he probably assumes you don’t know yet. He wanted to be the one to tell you, and knowing we’re here and being ashamed is what is holding him back.”
“How am I supposed to process this? What am I supposed to say to him?” More tears came just as I croaked out, “How am I supposed to help him?”
Dad bent his knees and raised his shades to ensure I stared right into his eyes. “You need to be patient with him, understanding, and most of all supportive. It’ll be hard to do when he’s so far away, and he’ll push back or even become confrontational, defensive. That’s not to fight you… it’s a way to fight with himself.”
And just like that, my euphoria evaporated into thin air.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Shane ~ Three months later
After fucking up royally right out of the gate, I was so ashamed I couldn’t get out of my own head and talk to Alivia about it. Sure, I offered a lame apology and said I’d learned my lesson… but that was all I was willing to say on the subject. Predictably, she tried to be supportive, only for me to shut her down. I admitted the last thing I wanted was to cause her even more distress and asked her to please drop it.
So she did.
Thank Christ I’d pulled my head out of my ass after my fuckup. I somehow found a way to immerse myself in the experience and relish in the dream I was fortunate enough to live every night. Cohabitating on the bus with the guys didn’t suck like I thought it would, nor did they annoy me like I’d assumed they would.
Since Cannon lost the battle, there was a ton of hookups that I had to deal with. Our lead singer had been spared, having the bedroom in the back. That left me with the hard-on twins as bunkmates. Listening to someone having sex directly below you wasn’t as hot as one would think. I now understood all the stories I’d heard of Trey wanting to kill Scott and Hunter when they were single while on tour.
It wasn’t all X-rated. A huge highlight for me happened when my family flew out to see us play in Chicago. Surprisingly, Trey, Camilla, and Trestan came as well. Having a cheering section there had been bittersweet. I loved that they did that as a show of support but hated the one person I really wanted to be there couldn’t be.
The claim she’d made before leaving for Florence to come see me at some point had never been mentioned again. I was sure it was difficult to stop everything and fly back to the States for one concert. And I knew mentioning it would make her feel bad, so I never did.
Midtour put us in LA for a three-night run, so I was able to hang with Chase. He behaved himself and, weirdly enough, admitted he missed Kim. Apparently, he’d had a situation the first weekend after his move. The chick had been hot as fuck, older by a few years, and sexually aggressive. All a wet dream for Chase. But when she’d pulled out a ball gag, dildo, and handcuffs, he’d gotten the hell out of there. Although the visual had caused me to laugh my ass off at his expense, he now treaded cautiously with the female persuasion.
The weeks went by quicker than I thought they would. I used my free time to write songs, and I wrote a shit ton of them. I also kept a journal so there wasn’t a detail I’d forget to tell Alivia. She loved seeing pictures I sent of each stop we made, and of bus life with the guys. It felt like we were on better footing, although the distance was fucking torture. She kept encouraging me to make sure I truly experienced it all… more to do with that damn regret bullshit she held on to.
That opportunity came two months to the day after the tour began.
We were in Vegas, and it also happened to be November 7, my birthday. After our show, which was probably the best one yet, the guys took me to a strip club to celebrate. I hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since Seattle and allowed myself the night to let loose. I also allowed myself to be the nineteen-year-old that I was.
No, I didn’t cheat on my girl… but the way I beat myself up afterward, I may as well have. And a picture of a very incriminating lap dance that hit the internet the next morning also said otherwise.
I knew Alivia stayed off social media and rarely went online. Still, I needed to tell her, especially when we got back to the bus and in my bunk was a large, wrapped package. The brand-new glossy black Fender bass guitar with my name engraved on the back acted like a sucker punch to my gut.
Before I could fuck up again, before I bottled it all up from shame, I called her right there and then. She’d barely said a groggy hello when I rushed out an apology, saying it was stupid and reckless and not at all what it appeared to be. At first the silence that followed was torture, until she gave me an out, reminding me that I had every right to experience Vegas properly. Strip clubs were a rite of passage, and she wasn’t going to deny me that.