Clearing my throat, I mutter, “Seven years ago.”
Tae’s eyes widen with shock, and it’d be comical if the truth weren’t so pathetic. “I’m sorry, I think I misheard you. Seven months ago?”
I shake my head once. “Years.”
She smacks my arm. “Jackson Charles Wilson! Why on earth haven’t you performed in seven years?”
“Can we just drop it?”
“No! Tell me right this instant.”
“Because of you!” I whisper-hiss.
She shrinks back. “Me?”
“Yes. Because every time I strum a chord, or sing a line, I think of you and everything I’ll never have because you left and didn’t choose me.”
Tears well in her eyes, and I’m immediately filled with regret. Regret for losing my composure and regret for losing her all those years ago. I don’t know how to be with her now. I don’t know how to hide my resentment and frustration with her for leaving me behind for greener pastures. My life has been nothing but depressing, muted grays since she left it. There are few things that pull me from the abyss I’ve spiraled into over the past decade.
When we land and I take my phone off airplane mode, it begins buzzing incessantly with incoming texts.
I take a deep breath and open the thread with my sister first.
Walker:
Is Tae okay, J?
Walker:
I’m thinking of you both. Please let me know if you need anything!
Walker:
Also, don’t think just because you had to leave that you’re going to get out of talking about this!
Rolling my eyes at her antics, I close out of her thread without replying and open the message from my mom.
Mama:
I love you, sweetheart. Please let me know when you land safely. Take care of our girl! Xx
My mom’s message makes me smile. She always did love Taevin like she was her own. I’m sure I’ll have a lot of answering to do with her about how her baby boy was married for nearly a decade without her knowing. Mom is the only one I told everything to before I left Paris, with Tae’s permission of course. I send her a quick reply that we landed before exiting my thread with her.
My stomach sinks when I see my father texted me.
Senator Satan:
My office when you get back to Minnesota.
He’s a delusional prick if he thinks I’m going anywhere near his home office. I’ve managed to keep out of there for the past seven years, and I intend to keep it that way. There’s a fucking reason he wasn’t allowed to come to my brother’s wedding after all.
Just then, my phone buzzes with one final text from my brother.
Benny:
You’re fucking welcome. Don’t let her go this time, J.
I grit my teeth at his assumption. I never let Taevin go—not ten years ago, and I’m sure as hell not about to now.
