Page 119 of Rock Me

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Jez

The recovery is slow and painful.

Some days my progress feels like an impossibly uphill battle. Struggling to take three, four steps up, only to stumble and roll back down the mountain.

And then there are days I wake up, and I reach for a cup of coffee, and it's empty before I realize my fingers are gripping the handle without shaking, without pain.

But there are no nights that I fall asleep without hearing the sound of her voice in my head, feel her fingers through my hair, imagining her warm body wriggling against mine as she murmurs in her sleep.

But the nightmares tell a different story.

I know the ending now, the aftermath of the flashing headlights and the screeching tires on the road before I'm flung into the air.

It's her.

Her own bloodied body against the steering wheel, her blood mixed in with Scotch.

Almost killing me.

And worse, almost killing herself.

The urge to see her, to kiss her, to talk to her, to hear her play is trumped by the overwhelming urge to shake her, shake her until she gives up her secrets, to tell me why. How she could be this kind of person? To make her show me how she could hide this, even from herself.

It's been a month since we've come back to L.A.

As part of my rehabilitation, we practice every day. My playing isn't perfect, but there's real hope for a full recovery.

Physically.

Mentally, emotionally, I'm as wrecked as I ever was.

And the only person who can fix me is the only person who ever broke me.

There's a knock on the door and I ignore it. Preferring to sit in my dark room and stare out the window into the night.

Night is good.

Quiet.

Safe.

Alone.

The knock comes again, louder this time.

I sigh and call out, "It's open."

There's a pause and the door cracks open, and light streams in through the gap, drawing a bright line clear across the floor of my bedroom.

I squint and can barely make out the shape of the person at the door. It’s Anca.

"Hey, Jezzy," she says, quietly, as she steps into the room and closes the door behind her.

"Hey. Want a drink?" I hold up the Cognac decanter I'm swilling from.

"Um, no, thanks. Maybe you've had enough for tonight?"