The impulse to ask Carissa to take the space behind me on the bed and put her arms around me is so strong that I have to clench my teeth against letting it out.
It would not be work-appropriate. There has to be a line somewhere, but fuck me if I know where it starts and ends. I’m not in any sort of right headspace at the moment. Not when my head is aching so badly and the rest of me resembles a twisted-up towel right before it’s wrung out.
Her hand travels up my arm and over my shoulder before smoothing a small circle on my back. It’s so good that I close my eyes and just let myself fall into her touch.
I guess this is a particularly unguarded moment because I find myself saying words I haven’t spoken out loud to anyone. I might have told Matt in the past, but not recently, and the pain of that bites deeper than I expected. Well, it’s in the open now, at least between the two of us in this room. I can speak my truth now.
“I’ve been myself, and I’ll always be myself, but what if I don’t even really know what that is anymore?”
She blinks at me like she’s surprised I’m not mad. The overhead light hurts my eyes, but it creates a halo around her dark hair. A few frizzy strands stand out on top. It’s an honor to see them because she always has it perfectly tamed. She even manages to make the scrubs she wears—not the kind that people wear in hospitals and clinics, but dark black pants and a black button-up long-sleeve shirt—look pretty.
The world thought I was dating one of the most beautiful women on the planet. I thought Alicia was pretty, and she was ambitious and nice, but a lot of her beauty was on the outside. She’d be the first to admit she’s not afraid to use people to getwhere she wants to go. She’d draw the line at doing real damage, but she liked the type of agreement we had.Mutually beneficial. She liked being seen, gloried in the spotlight, and soaked up all the attention. I don’t even know her well enough to call her insecure underneath her flawless exterior, but isn’t everyone?
Carissa doesn’t appear to be, though. She’s private, but not withdrawn. She cares deeply about the world around her. She observes, listens, and takes it all in. She’s always helping out, and when she’s absolutely not needed, she reads. In our downtime, if we ever have any, she likes to find a local library or figure out where her time can be of use volunteering.
She somehow looks at me like I’m not completely repulsive, her soft brown eyes holding zero revulsion. It’s not just because I’m her job either. She’s comforting me because I need comforting. She’s hurting because I’m hurting.
“Can you explain what you mean?” Carissa asks.
It’s such a Carissa question. She doesn’t insert her own experiences into other people’s conversations. She doesn’t assume she understands.
“I think we all… need a break.” My throat is raw, my voice scratchy. It’s not just my body that’s taken a beating. I’m going to have to pull out all the stops and really nebulize the shit out of myself tomorrow. Lots of throat spray and extra vocal warmups if I can handle it. “I used to want to tell my truth to the world. I was angry and hurting, but I also wanted to transform that into a thing of beauty.” My grandma’s advice: Turn nightmares into poetry. “People have grown with me. They’ve changed with me. No one really knows how deep those childhood holes go, or how tough losing my grandma was. It was her love that healed so much of the damage inside me. It was her love that made it possible to be here right now.”
I swallow thickly past the lump in my peppermint-coated throat before continuing. “I know I’ll never be fully healed,but for the first time ever, I don’t necessarily want to give my emotions to anyone else. I just want some quiet. I don’t need the affirmation. I’ve spent all these years healing. Part of getting older is just moving past what happened to me. I know how to get that from within myself now. I have a lot to give, but I don’t know if I want to keep giving it like… like how I’ve been doing it.”
That makes me sound like a know-it-all, selfish prick. I wince on top of the perma-wince my face has been screwed into for the past few hours. “I don’t want to be ungrateful. I’ll forever have a heart full of gratitude for every minute of this life, even the toughest parts. I’ll always love my fans. I’m so afraid of disappointing them. If I just disappear, they’ll miss me. They’ll be worried. I used to be afraid of being alone, but I’m not anymore. I don’t know when it changed or how. I… I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now. I just don’t want to hurt the people who have given me all of this and made it possible, and who feel like family because they’re part of the fanbase. Can that still exist if Wilder’s Peril isn’t even together anymore?”
That’s a lot.
We sit in silence for a good chunk of time. The bus hums along, the noise of the engine and tires on the road being the only sound in the room.
“It has been a long tour,” Carissa finally whispers. She strokes my arm again. My skin is cold and clammy, but her hand somehow glides smoothly.
“I’m not scared of change. I’m only afraid people will think every single thing I did and said was a lie.”
Carissa’s hand freezes on my bicep. She hums low in her throat, a beautiful sound that I don’t think she’s aware she’s making. “So many of your songs have been about your journey into healing. I think if you’re honest about your intentions, people will understand. Healing isn’t something that stops. Neither is growth. Some people might be angry at first. Theymight see it as somewhat hypocritical, and rude things might be said, but after taking some time to think it over, people will stick with you. They love you for you, and I think most of them just want you to be able to share your gift to the best of your ability, whatever that looks like.”
I blink against the sting of tears. Real tears, not just eye water, because my whole body is rebelling against me in a sunburst of spectacular pain. “I don’t want to hurt Luke, or Jameson, or Matt, but I’m going to. Especially Matt.”
“Maybe they just need some time too.”
“They’ve had some time. They’ve held all this against me foryears.” It’s been that long. Carissa knew, but hearing the span of time, her left eye twitched. “I’ve never wanted anyone to think I feel like I’m more important than anyone else. We’re all just trying to do what we love. I want to be the best performer I can be and have the songs come out in the best possible way. I’ve tried so hard not to be an asshole or create drama or be the damn rockstar, yet they still think I want all the glory.”
“That’s athemproblem, Wilder. You can only do so much.”
“What if my version of my truth is skewed? You can be totally honest and still be utterly, sincerely wrong.”
She sighs. “Well, there’s always the witchy house and the woods if all things go wrong.”
“That sounds more like if all things go right. I happen to love animals.”
“I know.” She swallows audibly, turning her face away so I can’t see her expression, but her hand keeps drawing circles on my shoulder and bicep. I still feel like shit, but part of me wants to make purring sounds of pleasure. Being a cat would be awesome. “I know you’d love to have a pet, but you’re touring all the time,” she continues. “As for the truth thing, I think you’ve always tried to be the best of who you were in that moment. There might be versions of you out there that you don’t evenknow exist. You love the band, and you love your fans, but it’s important for you to love yourself too.”
“I don’thatemyself.”
She seems to lose herself, studying the wall, given over to her thoughts. She cups my jaw without even knowing she’s doing it. I freeze, a shiver of pleasure rippling through me. I want to arch into her touch, but I don’t dare move.
This is a spell that definitely can be broken.
