She would’ve made an incredible solo artist, maybe headlined her own shows, if she’d ever had the desire. Just Jessa. That voice and that face and aguitar.
Epic.
As she finished the song, everyone just sat there staring at her,speechless.
“Damn.” Katie’s brother-in-law, Jack, finally broke thesilence.
“Right?” Roni said. “You should hear her when she’s singing Feist in her underwear and making me breakfast.” Then she stood up, singing “I Feel ItAll” in an imitation of Jessa’s sweet voice and twitching her ass intheair.
“Bitch,” Jessa muttered,smiling.
“What? It’s good to have you home.” Roni sat back down,grinning.
“I’ll fucking cheers to that,” Zane said, and glasses and bottles were clinked all around thefirepit.
I took that as my cue to slip back in and rejoin the circle. I’d already sung my song, so at least Jessa didn’t have to hear me croak my way through “Heart of Gold.” My musical talents did not lie in performance—of any kind. Luckily Zane’s harmonica kind of stole the show, plus almost everyone was kinda drunk, so therewasthat.
“I’m expecting you to make me those badass blueberry pancakes of yours, soon,” Roni went on. “It’s been years since you treated me to a breakfastconcert.”
“I can’t remember the last time I ate a pancake,” Jessa said almost wistfully, glancing at me as I sat down across the firefromher.
“Christ,” Roni said. “You really need to quit the modeling biz, stat. Life without pancakes… next you’re gonna tell me you’ve stopped giving head because of thecalories.”
“You only gotta count the calories if you swallow,” Ash put inhelpfully.
“Hey, hey.” Jessa raised her beer. “To my brother and hisnewwife.”
Beers were raised again and everyone cheered as the laughter died down. “And to my little sister,” Jesse added. “May she live long and sing a lot ofsongs.”
Jessa smiled, looking embarrassed by allthelove.
Then the music continued. With all the rock stars jamming, it was a killer lineup for a private concert in the woods. The businessman in me wanted to pull out my phone, stream it live and watch the cash roll in. But this night wasn’taboutthat.
As they started into what I personally considered one of the greatest songs The Beatles ever recorded, “Don’t Let Me Down,” Zane on lead vocals and Jesse, Dylan, Elle, Ash and Jessa belting out the chorus, sending it right on up to the stars, I sat back, just soaking up the vibe of it. Just like I had at so many jams around so many fires over the years, since we were just a bunch of kids. And itfeltgood.
No; it feltincredible.
It felt so totally fuckingrightto have Jessa here among us; like she’d never even left. Nothing could be more rightthanthis.
Nothing could be more wrong than watching her leave usagain.
I felt it, in my blood and in my bones, in my fucking soul, as she played with the band. Jessa Mayes belonged here.Withus.
Why the fuck couldn’t sheseeit?
Everyone elsecould.
I watched in utter fucking fascination as the music took her over, as she got all lit up in a way I hadn’t seen her get lit up in a long fucking time… since around the time her mom died,maybe.
Since long before the band left on that first world tour, and welosther.
* * *
Many songs later,the fire was dwindling and no one was bothering to build it up anymore. The newlyweds had long since disappeared. Those of us who were single—or avoiding going to bed—sat around talking shit, drinking, smoking weed and more or less trying to outlast each other. Like a bunch of eighteen-year-olds who weren’t gonna pay for thistomorrow.
Zane, Maggie and I, as usual, were the only ones not getting trashed. Zane because he didn’t drink, and Maggie and I because we’d made it our responsibility years ago to look out for these lunatics. Besides, I tended to make an even bigger dick of myself with Jessa when I was drunk, and I wasn’t about to spend the brief time I had in her presencewasted.
I wasn’t gonna spend it sleeping either, which meant I was pretty much waiting for her to get up and leave, because I sure as shit didn’t have the balls to end this night. Not when she was still sitting across the fire from me. I glanced her way, but she wasn’t looking at me; she was gazing into the flames, a beer clutched inherhand.
