Then it hits me.
The accident happened here in Baton Rouge.
Every other time we’ve played here I’ve numbed the pain and vanquished the ghosts by either feigning illness (in the early days) or getting plastered.
This year I didn’t even remember until just now.
Time to let it go, brother.
Joey’s voice.
He was always the voice of reason, and I guess that doesn’t change in the afterlife. Either that or I’m losing my mind.
You’re not crazy, Ross. Just tied up in memories. But that’s a good thing because you’re finally moving on.
Joey again.
Is it weird to have internal conversations with people?
“No ghosts today,” Tommy whispers.
Our eyes meet and I realize he knows. Someone must have told him and it’s suddenly a relief to have someone to share my grief with. To acknowledge it, even if it’s beyond time to move past it.
“I swear I just heard Joey’s voice,” I admit, looking away. Hoping he doesn’t think I’m crazy.
“Because he’s in here.” He lightly thumps me on the chest. “Where he and the others will always be.”
I take a shaky breath and then nod.
“Thank you. I needed to hear that.”
“They’re always with you, man. Now let’s go play.” He jogs onto the stage and I follow behind him.
Kingston glances at me and winks.
Tommy starts thumping on the bass drum.
Devyn is reaching for her eight-string.
Kellan and Z are messing around, using their guitars as swords and pretending to be fighting.
I smile.
I’m home.
Epilogue
Wynter
Paris in June.
I’ve heard April is the best time to be here but June is pretty wonderful too.
It’s been a crazy couple of months and now I’m on tour for the duration of the European leg. There might be some Australian and Asian dates added, but nothing is set in stone yet.
And today is Tommy and Harley’s wedding.
They’re legally married but they wanted to have a ceremony somewhere romantic and then a small, intimate reception. They chose the Eiffel Tower, rented out the entire restaurant for the evening, and there isn’t a dry eye in the house as they exchange vows.
