I pulled out my phone while Gracie began to bitch about being boxed in by the cars and the snow, and I nodded along while I looked Atlas up.
It didn’t take me long to find him and his band. Tender Fracture, they were called. The most recent videos posted were of him and some tall, dark-haired guy leaving his last show before it began. Rumors were posted all over Reddit that something big had gone down and Atlas left Tender Fracture for good.
Someone posted a long conspiracy theory about Atlas and some guy named Raleigh—the lead guitarist of the band, apparently. And, as I quickly learned, Atlas’s boyfriend. Though with the way he was singing tonight, maybe that was his ex?
Raleigh was infuriatingly good-looking, with piercing green eyes that were probably contacts and sweeping light brown hair in a style that made him look like he was chasing his youth. In every photo, he was wearing a leather vest with no shirt or a deep V that showed off his nipples and chest tattoos. He smirked, he didn’t smile. And there was a coldness in his eyes that made me feel wildly uncomfortable.
He didn’t seem to suit Atlas at all. I didn’t understand how a man like Atlas, who poured what seemed like half his soul into his songs, could fall for a guy like this. Not that I knew him, but my gut told me I wasn’t wrong, and I always trusted my gut, even if I didn’t always follow its advice.
“Hello? Are you ignoring me?” Gracie demanded, dragging me out of my head.
I dropped my phone in my lap and attempted a grin. I had no idea how long we’d been sitting there, but it felt like either minutes or hours. I cleared my throat. “I could never ignore you, my darling.”
“Good, because we have a call.”
I blinked at her. Shit. I missed it. “Where?”
Her gaze turned toward the crowd of cars in front of us, and she sighed. “Right here.”
Three
ATLAS
Singingto this crowd felt like I was bleeding out. It was better than all the ugly crying I’d done—not out of missing Raleigh because any love I might have had for him had dried up years ago. The crying was the loss of what should have been. Of all the time I’d wasted on waiting for him to become a better person.
And maybe some of the tears were from the anger I held for myself for letting it go on as long as I did, knowing that Raleigh would always be the man he was. That nothing I did would ever change him.
I felt like a fool, but the moment I picked up my guitar, knowing that it was me—and just me—on that stage, there was a punch of relief so profound, I almost felt sick from it.
I had books and books of songs I’d written that I had never shown any of my bandmates because the words weren’t for them. They were about them. Their apathy and narcissism and the joy they took out of thinking they were better than everyone else was killing me. Like death by a thousand cuts.
How quickly they forgot the nights we spent freezing our asses off in unheated garages, scraping together what little rent money we could so we could afford to survive before famehappened. Before someone paid attention and realized that, in spite of us being vaguely terrible people, we were talented.
Iwas talented.
Tonight felt like I was releasing all of that pain. The words spilled out like a broken dam, and I was able to let go, my throat raw from holding back my sobs. It felt good though, the healing kind of pain I’d needed for a while now.
And Alice’s bar was the perfect spot for it.
It was a crowd full of strangers, people who had no idea I was going to be there until I sat on the stage with my guitar in my lap, watching recognition bloom on most of their faces. But the energy picked up, and as I sang, I noticed phones recording me. I noticed people speaking frantically to people on the other end of the line.
There were probably livestreams after a few minutes.
And then there were people banging on the bar doors because someone had enough social media reach to tell the world I was here.
On stage, there were no regrets, but I also knew I had to end the set quickly. There were already demands to play songs from Tender Fracture’s latest album—something I wouldn’t do for any money in the world. But the mood of the crowd was starting to sour, and I wanted to bail before it got bad.
I was able to break free after my fifth song and duck down the hallway before anyone could follow. Alice squirrelled me away in the storeroom, with Fred standing guard. I’d known him long before the band had any fame or notoriety, and that was in the half smile he gave me as he looked down at my heaving chest.
“Call an Uber,” Alice said, throwing a parka over my back. “Have them get as close to the alley as they can, and Fred will get you out.”
I would probably be noticed at some point during my escape, but Alice was right. This was the only way I’d be able to get outwithout resigning myself to sleeping in the bar until the crowds got bored and left. I had a dummy account on the app, so I ordered the car, then watched the slow progression of the driver because the snow and ice had only gotten worse since I got to the bar.
It was nearly midnight, and I could feel the energy of the crowd ramping up. People were drinking, fighting, falling in love, falling apart…everything I’d ever sung about but had never quite had the luxury to feel for myself.
Fuck, I was tired. I was so,sotired. Something had to give.
“I see a car pulling up,” Fred called from behind the door. “Come with me. I’ll get you out.”
