“Jax?”
“Yeah.”
He tightens his grip. “We don’t talk about him.”
I swallow. “So, you think it’s a given,” I say, “but you still don’t want to hear it?”
“It just pisses me off. I know that if they make the call, it’s over. That they don’t need my decision to call it off. It’s just how easy it is for them, you know? It’s like they broke it, so they don’t give a damn about throwing it away.”
“It took all four of us to build the band,” he adds. “Now they each take turns tearing it apart. And I have to sit here and watch them do it without any say or input. One man doesn’t make a pop band. We were barely holding onto it all after…”
“Jax?”
Gus clears his throat. “Mmm.”
“And now you’re hiding from it all.”
“No, I’m nothiding. I’m just choosing to be ignorant. That’s what the photography is about. It’s about doing something I loved before the band. Something that’s just… mine.”
I nod, my breathing steadier. “I get it.”
“It’s been twelve years. So much of my life. What I can’t wrap my head around is how none of them are mourning it like I am.”
“Well, maybe they are. Not everyone let’s people see them sad or in pain. Sometimes those emotions are best kept to yourself.”
“That may be true,” he agrees. “But it was a team effort for so long. We each gave so much of ourselves to this life. All the suffering, sleepless nights, the anxiety. The times when we felt so out of control. It’s like it was all for nothing. I feel like a massive chunk of me is missing without it. I don’t know how I rebuild, you know? What on earth do Ido, Sara, that will measure up to what I’ve already done? Where do I go from here?”
“I think that has to come fromyou. But maybe you’re putting too much pressure on it. Maybe it can be something smaller, something that brings you joy, something completely yours.”
Gus sighs, resting his chin on my head. “Man, you must be the best big sister.”
“Well, if I am, I’m still doing something wrong.”
The main light in the cabin flickers on again for a moment then hisses and buzzes back off. I whimper as the boat crashes down once more, my tummy dropping even faster. Gus hugs me to him.
“Gus?” I whisper.
“Yeah?”
“If I die…”
“You’re not going to die,” he interrupts, prodding me gently in the back.
“But if I do, can you tell my sisters I died doing something reckless?”
“I don’t know about that,” he jokes, pretending to consider my request. “What if they blame me?”
“They won’t. You’re a popstar. They’ll thank you for coming by and Millie will probably hit on you. I apologise in advance.”
I don’t hear him laugh, but I feel the trembles of it.
“And ifIdie—”
“You probably will.”
“—tell Grace you did it. She’ll thank you and make you an honorary member of the Kenwood household.”
“I’d accept.”
