I felt weary just thinking aboutit.
“You sure you’reokay?”
“I’m fine. And I’ve got Flynn.” I felt the need to say it, to allay hisworries.
“Okay. Take care of yourself,” he said. “Call me foranything.”
“Iwill.”
“I’ll check inlater.”
“Great.”
I hung up from that conversation feeling even worse thanbefore.
I didn’t love anyone in the band worrying about me. Normally, I’d find it annoying, like they were playing big brother and getting nosey, and I hated that shit. But Dylan was different. Dylan didn’t worry about much, and he knew me; he knew I took care of myself, he knew I had my shit together, that I had a whole team of people to help me keep my shit together, and he knew I didn’t need or want him toworry.
But I could hear it over the line. He was worried aboutthis.
I checked my new messages, grudgingly, and found a couple of texts fromMaggie.
Maggie:Call Brody. He’s freakingout.
Maggie:Let me know if u want to talk. Off therecord.
Shit…If Maggie said Brody was “freaking out,” things were notgood.
I sent her a quickThank youfor the off-the-record offer. Maybe I’d take her up on it in the future. Not right now,though.
Right now, I still hadn’t figured out my own take on the whole Seth situation. I wasn’t ready to discuss it with anyoneelse.
Me:How’sJesse?
I sent the question to Maggie, like I had many times this past year when I was concerned about him, or curious, or whatever, but didn’t want to speak to himdirectly.
Maggie:Not sure. Katie says he’s been out all night drinking with Jude and before that he was pacing alot.
Maggie:Whatever thatmeans.
Maggie:It’s a shit storm overhere.
She punctuated that with a smiling shitemoji.
I cracked asmile.
Me:Sorry for causing the shitstorm.
Maggie:Not yourfault.
Maggie:Men.
She sent another smiling shitemoji.
Then a call came through. The pop-up on the screen read:Jesse.
Wonderful…
I took a breath and answered the call. “Hi.”
