“No, no, Jackson,” I whisper, voice barely audible. “I’m fine.”
“You’ve got Trevor pretty worried. Tell me what’s going on,” Jackson demands, leaving no room for argument.
I blow out a shaky breath. “I’m fine. I promise. Tell Trevor to chill. I just needed… I needed someone to know.”
“Know what?”
“That I’m in way over my head,” I admit before hanging up.
I turn back to the living room to find Nolan sitting on the couch, carefully strumming the cords of the guitar. The tune is oddly familiar, reminding me of the records that my moms used to play late at night after they thought I’d gone to sleep. When I step into the hotel room, Nolan’s gaze stays on the guitar, but his lips start to move with the haunting lyrics. Words about timeand loss and his voice is so haunting that my stomach curdles as I stand barefoot before him.
He finishes and slowly lifts his head to look at me. “‘Time in a Bottle.’”
“Nolan,” I say, carefully stepping closer.
“That’s my favorite song,” Nolan whispers.
The moment is so fraught, the rope holding us together pulled so tight I’m afraid it might snap. I want to call Trevor back and ask him to hold my hand. I want Eli to come and stand beside me, just quiet and full of life. I want Jackson to come and tell me I’m not fucking up. I want my friends so badly that my heart cracks into small little splinters. I don’t know what to do anymore. Nolan’s slipping out of my grasp and I feel so alone.
“Benji,” Nolan says quietly. “Go take a shower, put on a nice outfit and a smile, then join me on the balcony, okay?”
“Nolan.”
His smile could shatter a million hearts. “Please?”
My feet carry me to the shower. I do as he said, using Nolan’s preferred shower gel so that I smell like him when I’m done. With wet hair, and pain in the pit of my stomach, I dress quickly and hurry to rejoin Nolan on the balcony.
This time, my stomach plummets to the ground. Nolan sits on the railing of the balcony, legs dangling over the edge. He doesn’t turn to look at me when my steps echo out onto the cold concrete. Heart pounding in my chest, I do the only thing I can think of to do. I climb up on the railing beside him, fighting desperately against the dizzy vertigo that overtakes me.
Nolan turns his head slowly. “What are you doing?”
“Being with you,” I answer softly.
Nolan stares at me. “I can’t do this anymore, Benji. Do you understand? I have to…” He trails off and gestures at the ten stories below us. Cars honk and pass by, no doubt getting ready for a night of celebration. Nobody knows Nolan Hastings isabout to jump and end it all. And nobody knows I’m going to follow him down.
“If you jump, I jump too. I can’t let you die alone. You’ve spent so much of your life alone. I…” A cry gets caught in my throat. “I can’t let you be alone in those last moments too.”
A tear slides down Nolan’s cheek. “What?”
“I… I’ll go with you.”
“No.”
“Yes,” I say as I shakily nod. “It’s us, okay?”
“Us.” Nolan repeats the word like he doesn’t understand it.
“Can I… Can I tell you what my dream is?”
Nolan quirks his head. “Okay.”
I curl my fingers over the railing and take a deep, shaky breath. “I’m going to paint you a picture. My dream is that we climb down off this ledge and call Chris. I tell Chris that the tour is over, canceled. You’re not okay. You need time and healing and help. I take you to Clay Springs, where my best friends are, and we get you some help and medicine so your brain can work the way it needs to. And you let me love you even though I’m just some stupid golden retriever. ’Cause I think… I think we could have a great life once you accept some help. And I’ll hold your hand every step and cheer you on and to me you’re just Nolan, the man who makes me laugh and feel like I’m doing something good in this world that sometimes gets really fucking dark. You’re beautiful, Nolan. I wish you were mine, just mine.”
Nolan’s chest stops moving halfway through my speech as if the breath is caught in his lungs. He looks down at the street below, his fingers curled against the railing right beside mine. My skin tingles when his skin touches mine.
“I can’t picture a future when my brain is so cloudy and loud.”
“I’ll picture it,” I tell him firmly.
