“Yeah?”
“Hey, it’s Beth.” Amy’s manager. My heart dropped to my feet.
“What happened?”
“It’s…” she trailed off.
“Beth, what happened?” I said, the fingers on my free hand curling into a fist at my side.
“It’s Amy. She’s…” I heard Beth’s voice break, and I knew. I knew before she even said the words. I dropped to my knees in my parents’ living room.
Amy was gone.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Ty
? The Promise - Tracy Chapman?
My heart is breaking as I listen to Eric recount the moment he found out Amy had lost her battle with addiction. The pain in his eyes feels like a dagger to my heart, and it takes every ounce of control I have to sit still and not climb into his lap and wrap him in my arms.
“And the accident?” I ask, swallowing. “It was the same day the news broke. I assume that’s not coincidence?”
He shakes his head once.
“I got the call from Beth and I just…I don’t know. Being in this industry, I’ve seen a lot of people lose themselves to addiction, but losing her was different. Amy’s death hurt.Physicallyhurt. I felt like I was being held underwater—my chest ached, and I was fighting to breathe.” He looks down at hishands.
“I don’t remember drinking. I don’t remember getting on my dad’s bike. I don’t remember speeding. I don’t even remember how the accident happened. The first thing I remember after getting that call from Beth was sliding down the road as the pavement tore my skin apart.”
Eric had wrecked his dad’s motorcycle doing ninety miles an hour on a highway near his parents’ house. He hadn’t been wearing a helmet or any protective clothing, yet he walked away from the accident with nothing but a mild concussion, bruises, and severe road rash. It had been nothing short of a miracle that he wasn’t seriously injured, let alone survived.
My eyes move to focus on his right side. I’ve seen the physical scars that accident left behind. I’ve touched them. Kissed them. And I now find myself wishing I could do the same to the emotional ones.
When my eyes meet his again, a knowing smile has taken up residence across his face, and I curse myself for being so obvious, but it’s the first smile he’s given me in hours, so I’m glad for it.
“I remember they canceled the remainder of the tour,” I say, refocusing our attention, and he nods.
“I told the guys to replace me, but they flat out refused to even have the conversation. They supported whatever I felt I needed to do to recover physically and mentally. Told me they’d wait as long as it took for me to feel up to getting back out there, and when I told them I didn’t know if I ever would, they just shrugged and said we either did it together or we didn’t do it at all. Like it was the most obvious answer to all the problems I’d created.”
His eyes line with tears, and I’m surprised as I watch them fall. Surprised that behind closed doors, the confident, stoic Eric Ambrose wears his heart on his sleeve.
“They love you,” I say, and he huffs a laugh.
“I have no idea why,” he says, and my heart cracks in my chest. “I made such a mess of things. So many times. They could have easily cut ties with me.”
“Had you been drinking before that day?” I ask. He shakes his head.
“No,” he says. “I’d been sober for three years.”
“So, your last stint in rehab was…”
“Precautionary,” he says. “I knew what losing her would do to me if I didn’t get help. So, I went right from the hospital to the rehab center.”
Pride swells inside me, and I smile as tears line my own eyes. Even at his lowest low, he fought for himself. Fought to stay sober. Knew he was about to face his greatest challenge, and he looked it right in the eye, refusing to back down.
I know he still struggles with his decision to leave her, our previous argument is proof of that, but I hope that someday he truly believes he made the right choice in choosing himself.
“What’s that look for?” he asks, and I shake my head.
