Maybe it was the way my parents asked after each other, even though they’d been divorced for over ten years.
Maybe it was the way my friends were falling in love with one another—and how that underscored the fact that the one guy I’d loved forever was never going to be mine.
Maybe it wasn’t the town. Maybe it was me.
Look what good running away did me. I’d made a deal with the Devil, and now I had to see it through.
My quiet reflection seemed to grate on my manager. “Look,” he said, fidgeting. “You’re not going to tell them about the?—”
“Tell them about the what?” Sago interrupted, walking in with Robbie.
Paul shook his head and sat on one of the bedside chairs. The cheap plastic and metal squealed under his slight weight, and like everything about this place, it agitated me.
I didn’t answer, and Robbie filled in the silence. “He’s been giving you pills before each show,” he said, tilting his head toward Paul. “What are they?”
I shrugged. I didn’t know what the pills were, I didn’t care, and I wondered if anything would ever feel good again.
“Are we even a band anymore? Or just a collection of exhausted, strung out guys on stage?” Sago asked, frustration and hurt in his eyes as he set my overnight bag on the table to my right.
“Hell, maybe we’re just two fuck buddies and a singer,” I spit back. At some point on the last tour, those two had gotten together. They thought I didn’t see it, but I did. Everyone I loved was finding a partner, while I was finding new and different ways to debase myself.
Sago’s jaw muscles bunched, and he reached for Robbie, putting a possessive arm around his waist. “We’re way beyond fuck buddies, Hen.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because we didn’t think you could handle it,” Robbie replied.
That was an interesting answer. They’d only ever seen me fuck randos and sex workers, so I would have understood if they’d thought I wouldn’t respect their relationship or that I wouldn’t agree with it.
That they’d thought I couldn’tdealwith it, however, was a wrinkle I had not expected.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Every time you come back from Seguin—” Sago started.
“What about Seguin?” I asked, my lips curling into a snarl.
“It’s hard to describe. On the one hand, you look about ten years younger, and on the other, it seems like someone’s just ripped your heart out.”
Robbie bobbed his head in agreement. “Like, it’s the one place you can relax, but something—orsomeone—there has you in a twist. Every time you talk about one of your friends falling in love, you say it like it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened.”
“No, I don’t.”
Robbie’s quiet look shattered in my chest like a bomb. I’d thought I had hidden everything so well, but the two guys who spent more time with me than anyone else saw everything, apparently.
And suddenly I was so homesick I couldn’t stand it.
“I need everybody to get the fuck out,” I said, despising how hateful I sounded.
I couldn’t help it, though. I could feel the panic welling up, as though they were sucking all the oxygen from the room. I needed space.
I needed Texas.
Robbie and Sago glared at Paul, then they approached me.
“Get some rest. And fuck this tour,” Sago whispered in my ear, glancing at the black leather overnighter that traveled with me everywhere.
Robbie gave me an awkward hug. “Please. Please take care of yourself, Hen.”
