I arch my brow, daring him to go on.
“Story for another day,” Travis says. “Just know, Penn was pretty fucking smitten that night. Could’ve just been the edibles, though.”
I sling my notebook across the room, smacking him right in the chest. “It was definitely the fucking edibles, you fuck. You said we were splitting it, but you gave me the whole thing! That shit was potent as hell. Those girls could’ve been actual pumpkins and my dick still would’ve wanted in.”
Travis barks out a laugh, and Liam gasps again. “A threesome?”
Travis’s laughter cuts off, and he gives Liam a pitying smile. “Oh, sweet child, afivesome.”
Liam’s eye bulge, darting between the two of us. I shakemy head at Travis’s giddy expression. I don’t care that he told the story. I’m surprised he didn’t do it sooner, honestly. But I was fucked up. My dad had just died a few months before, and we sneaked into that weird festival, claiming to be a local country rock band so they’d let us play. Boy were they pissed when they found out. They practically threw us out.
Before Travis has a chance to tell more stories, Tanner strolls back in, his face serious. “Okay, guys, I have some news. I’ve been in contact with a couple of indie label heads that are starting a new music festival along the East Coast. Similar to what Warped Tour was, and they want us to be a part of the lineup.”
“No way? That’s huge!” Liam says.
“How many shows we talkin’?” Travis asks.
“No specifics yet, but could be dozens. We’d leave in May and likely be gone until late August.”
“Well, fuck yeah!” Travis cheers. He and Liam chest bump each other, then proceed to ask Tanner a million questions, none of which he knows the answers to yet. All I can think of is Olivia.
“You okay?” Tanner asks, causing everyone to stop and stare at me.
“Yup, good. When will we know for sure?”
“Hopefully within a couple of weeks,” Tanner says.
I nod, sliding my guitar back to my chest. “All right, let’s finish up. I’m beat.”
The drive homeis dark and cold, just like my insides. I should be fucking stoked. This is what we’ve been waiting for and working for, but right now, all I feel is dread. May is right around the corner.
If I think about it, the timing is perfect. Olivia graduates in May, and she might leave. She’ll be moving on to the next phase of her life. Something we both knew would happen, but I’m not ready to give her up yet. I want to keep her.
As I pull into my parking space, my phone lights up from where it’s resting in the cup holder. I put the truck in park and reach for it. My hand freezes when I see my sister’s name and face on my screen.
“Pacey?” I answer, trying to keep the panic from my voice.
Silence.
I stop breathing to listen for any sound on the other end. “Pacey? Are you okay?”
The line goes dead.
“Fuck!” I punch the steering wheel, heart thundering in my chest.
I immediately dial her number. The phone rings twice, then kicks me to voicemail. I try again, but the phone doesn’t even ring this time.
I leave a voicemail. She must have listened to all the ones my mom left, finally freeing up space.
I force my voice to sound calm even though I’m seeing red. “Pacey, call me back. Please.” I sit in my truck, staring at the phone for thirty minutes, willing her to call. When she doesn’t, I head inside. Maybe she butt-dialed me, but damn, she could at least say that.
There’s no point in trying to sleep tonight. My fingers itch to call Olivia, but she has an early class tomorrow. I distract myself with the next best thing, grabbing my notebook and dropping onto the couch. I open to where my pencil is tucked between the pages I left off on the other day. Closing my eyes, I attempt to weed through the worries about my sister. I bounce a few lyrics around before rejecting them. They make no sense.Sometimes I do this with the guys. They’re always trying to help, but honestly, I work better alone.
I close my eyes, strumming a beat in my head. I’ve been working on this song for way too long—the one the guys really want me to finish so we can record it. Every time I close my eyes, trying to find it again, all I see is Olivia.
I flip to another page, the one full of shit I’ve written about her over the last few weeks, and my pencil moves across the page without hesitation.
31
