Jase shook his head. “Can’t see a single thread of bad in you.”
7
Jase wasn’t sure exactly what was happening to him. One minute, he felt like a fraud, standing in front of an audience singing songs that weren’t his, doubting his contribution to the band, and certain he was the most replaceable member of the band, despite what he said to Matt when they fought.
Yet here he was, standing in a recording studio in America of all places. He was alone, and for the first time, he wondered what the rest of the band were doing without him. He was writing a song, a song that was actually pretty damn good.
And over the last seven hours, Cerys had helped him walk the line between baring his soul with lyrics and a melody that painted the picture of his emotions—without the crushing anxiety and panic that came when he looked inside himself.
Fuck.
He was proud of himself.
Like genuinely surprised at what Cerys had enabled him to pull from deep within himself.
Am I him?
It had become the title of his first song.
“I feel like the second verse could hit harder,” Cerys said as she yawned. She was lying on her stomach near the drum kit she’d been playing on and off. “You said something earlier.” She flicked back through the pages and pages of notes she’d written as he’d talked about the experiences of living with a man who beat him. “There. You said you envied Matt the safety of not having a father at all. That should be the second verse.”
Jase put the guitar back on the stand and sat down next to her. “You don’t like the second verse?”
Cerys tucked the pencil behind her ear. “It’s good. But given the first and third verse and chorus are so strong, I think it looks weaker than it actually is. Do you want to try exploring those feelings some more? ‘Am I Him?’ works as a title in lots of ways. Are you your father? Are you your brother? Are you the man you want to be? Heck, even are you the man the girl you like wants? There are lots of different feelings wrapped up in that. You could explore all or none of them.”
Wave.
Wave.
Wave.
“I didn’t realise how many times a day I have a rush,” he said.
“A rush?” Cerys got to her knees and placed her hand on his shoulder. They’d been touching each other on and off all day. They’d started purely platonically, but now he felt every single second of her hands on him with a need that was growing into something so much more than friendship.
And for the first time in his life, it was based on pure honesty.
Which terrified him.
“A rush. The need to leave, to storm out of here. The need to destroy something, to smash the mirrors, to kick something over. The need to find a bottle of Jack and go to town on it.”
Cerys placed her palm on his cheek, and he couldn’t help but lean into it. “Having to show Matt the words to this song if we made the second verse about him makes me feel sick. Fuck.” He made a move to get up, but Cerys reached for his hand firmly.
“Don’t give in to it. Sit with it. Don’t run from that emotion. Channel it. You need to tune into those feelings and understand why.”
“Because it’s fucked up to be jealous of your own brother. It’s fucked up to have spent weekends getting the shit kicked out of me, wishing Matt was there so Dad would at least split the beatings in half. Wishing Matt was there because, in my young eyes, he seemed so much bigger that he’d be able to fend Dad off, even though he was only eight. Resenting him, when I got back on a Sunday, trying to hide the bruises and how it felt like my kidneys had been torn in two. Hearing about how Nan had taken him to the footie or had Luke over for a fucking playdate. What kind of brother am I for thinking all that shit?”
He looked up at Cerys and saw a tear spill over her lashes. “Jase,” she whispered.
Jase palmed her cheek and wiped the tear away with his thumb. “Don’t cry for me, Cerys. I’m a shit and not worth it.”
Cerys shook her head gently. “You aren’t a shit. And I think those feelings are totally valid. It’s awful that you had to suffer that way and were all alone.”
“I don’t know what Nan’s going to say about this song, either. Her approach, once she found out, was to tell me to move on. Not in a harsh way. Just that Dad was no longer around, and it wasn’t going to happen again. And she yelled at me for not telling her. I overheard her tell Auntie Pat, Ben and Alex’s mum, that she’d never forgive herself for not seeing it herself. So, I think I decided the best thing was to just bury everything I felt about it.”
Cerys threw her arms around him, and he tugged her so she sat across his lap. With her pulled tightly to his chest, he breathed. Breathed through the waves.
Her palms were warm, soothing, when she pressed them to his face. “You need to put your own story in words and music. It’s time to express those emotions in a medium you connect with and breathe life back into the memories. Retell them. Reclaim them. Give them a form you can deal with them in.”
Jase pressed a kiss to her palm as his hands slid down to cup her arse. The stirrings in his jeans reminded him it would take nothing to lower her to the floor and kiss her like he really wanted to.
“I feel like I should write a song about wanting to do really dirty things to your songwriting partner.”
Cerys smiled at him. “I think you should write a song about evading tough conversations.”
“Fine, I’ll write both.” He slid his hands beneath her hoodie, allowing his palms to settle on the skin just above the waistband of her yoga pants.
“Releasing the kind of emotions you have today, it can be a lot. An emotional upheaval can leave you even more emotionally vulnerable. What kind of person would I be if I took advantage of that?”
“A merciful one. You’d be a fantastic fucking distraction.”
Cerys laughed. “Oh, God. Yeah. Because that’s just what every girl wants to be. A distraction.”
Jase sighed and placed a chaste kiss at the corner of her mouth. “You know we’re going to happen, right?”
“I don’t know anything beyond us fixing the second verse before I go make dinner.” Her words said one thing, but the soft, breathy way she answered suggested something altogether different.
“I don’t know that any of this will happen in the right order. Usually I just fuck someone, maybe don’t even catch their name. This—you and me—is the closest thing to friendship I’ve ever had with a woman. You’re going to have to learn to read between the lines. Distraction is code for words I’m not good at expressing.”
Cerys nodded. “I think our friendship will be good in helping you figure out how. Because talking in code relies too much on interpretation. So, I return to the second verse.”
“Fine,” he said, nudging her off his lap playfully. “We’ll work on the second verse. Then we’ll go make dinner.” He got to his feet and brushed off his joggers. “Oh, and Cerys?”
“Yes?”
Jase helped her to her feet, keeping her so close it would take nothing to bend his lips to hers. To see if her lips would be as soft as he thought. “So you don’t think I’m being deliberately cryptic, you’re so much more than a distraction. I know shit’s complicated, but don’t think I don’t know the difference between a distraction and something terrifyingly real.”