His gaze returns to me. “I’m not sure I’m good at… at being okay. I haven’t been okay for so long. I think the only way out is… for it to end.”
“I can’t make the decision for you. But if you decide to stay, I’ll get you the help you need to stop feeling this way. We’ll… we can try to make it better. My mom tried to kill herself when I was little. She tells me all the time that, at the moment, it felt like the only way out, but it wasn’t. She just didn’t know how to find her way in the dark.”
Nolan’s gaze is so heavy. “How long ago was that?”
“Seventeen years. She sees a therapist, takes medicine, and lives on the freaky commune with my mama. Life got so much better once she got some help. Do you want to talk to her?”
Nolan raises a shaky hand to his eyes. God, he’s so close to falling. I curl my fingers tighter against the railing in case I have to reach out to grab him. He doesn’t want to die; he just doesn’t see the other option. Not yet.
“She regretted it?”
I nod shakily. “Very much.”
“I…” Nolan trails off and looks down. “What’s Clay Springs like?”
“Magic. Let me show you.”
Nolan takes a deep breath, and for one terrifying, very long second, I ready myself to watch him jump. But he doesn’t. He deftly swings his legs over the other side and jumps to the ground. The moment freezes, air caught between us like right before a storm. Right before the lightning strikes. And when I join him on the firm, beautiful ground of the balcony, it feels like lightning strikes, and the thunder echoes between us.
“Nolan,” I say quickly, just before the tears start to fall.
He dives into my arms, and I hug him close, breathing in his comforting scent. Sweat and amber and something so promisingthat it feels like the future suddenly finally fucking exists for us both.
“I still want to die,” Nolan admits, voice tender and raw.
“I know, but it’ll get better. I won’t leave you. It’s us now, it’s us.”
Nolan nods, and I pull him close, squeezing him tight until he feels safe in my arms, no longer afloat on whatever ocean of pain that was trying to sweep him out to sea. We stand there for so long that time starts losing any meaning. I just want to hold him in my arms forever, give him comfort, and make him feel safe. That’s all.
But time has to move on, and I have things to take care of now.
When I pull away, I hustle Nolan inside and sit him down on the sofa. After a text to Chris, I patiently wait for him to arrive. Nolan’s eyes are downcast, caught on where our hands lie tangled over his thin thigh.
The sound of a keycard swiping through the door is the only notice we get before Chris strides into the room. He takes one look at Nolan and pauses, stride caught halfway, eyes flicking between us.
“Okay, so…” I glance at Nolan, then back to Chris. “The tour needs to be over. I’m taking Nolan home. He needs… help.”
“Okay,” Chris says quietly.
“He’s not okay.”
Chris swallows loudly. “Did he… did you…”
“No,” Nolan mumbles, clearly already over the entire conversation.
“I’ll handle the label, don’t worry about it. Everything is fine. It’s going to be okay. Nolan… Nolan, it’ll be okay,” Chris says again, voice sounding how it would if he was addressing a small child.
I forget sometimes that outside of this tour, outside of Nolan Hastings, all these people have lives. Chris has mentioned family and children before, and I see it very clearly now in the way he approaches Nolan. Maybe one day Nolan will be able to see what’s right in front of him, that so many people care about him without him even realizing it.
“I want to go home with Benji,” Nolan says, lip trembling on the words.
Chris’s gaze pings back to me. “Where’s home?”
I squeeze Nolan’s hand tightly in mine. “Clay Springs.”
PART TWO
12
