Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
I blink against the sting of tears. Real tears, not just eye water, because my whole body is rebelling against me in a sunburst of spectacular pain. “I don’t want to hurt Luke, or Jameson, or Matt, but I’m going to. Especially Matt.”
“Maybe they just need some time too.”
“They’ve had some time. They’ve held all this against me for years.” It’s been that long. Carissa knew, but hearing the span of time, her left eye twitched. “I’ve never wanted anyone to think I feel like I’m more important than anyone else. We’re all just trying to do what we love. I want to be the best performer I can be and have the songs come out in the best possible way. I’ve tried so hard not to be an asshole or create drama or be the damn rockstar, yet they still think I want all the glory.”
“That’s a them problem, Wilder. You can only do so much.”
“What if my version of my truth is skewed? You can be totally honest and still be utterly, sincerely wrong.”
She sighs. “Well, there’s always the witchy house and the woods if all things go wrong.”
“That sounds more like if all things go right. I happen to love animals.”
“I know.” She swallows audibly, turning her face away so I can’t see her expression, but her hand keeps drawing circles on my shoulder and bicep. I still feel like shit, but part of me wants to make purring sounds of pleasure. Being a cat would be awesome. “I know you’d love to have a pet, but you’re touring all the time,” she continues. “As for the truth thing, I think you’ve always tried to be the best of who you were in that moment. There might be versions of you out there that you don’t even know exist. You love the band, and you love your fans, but it’s important for you to love yourself too.”
“I don’t hate myself.”
She seems to lose herself, studying the wall, given over to her thoughts. She cups my jaw without even knowing she’s doing it. I freeze, a shiver of pleasure rippling through me. I want to arch into her touch, but I don’t dare move.
This is a spell that definitely can be broken.
It’s a spell that washes over me, startling me with its intensity.
Is this more than just me craving a kind touch to make me feel better? Is it more than this conversation? I’ve focused solely on music for so long that I barely know what it feels like to be a man anymore.
“I know. I just… it’s that… you belong to the world. More than you belong to yourself. I do understand that. I think that’s why even though you know what you want, you don’t know how to get there.”
“That’s incredibly insightful,” I breathe. “Having a therapist mother paying off?”
That breaks her out of her reverie. Her hand falls away, breaking the rapture that shouldn’t have ever been there. For her, it was just another comforting touch.
For me… I don’t even know what the hell it was, but my body is on fire in a very different way. In a way other than we’re dealing with bad chicken over here.
The room lapses into silence again. The motion of the bus is still rocking my stomach in a not-so-great way, but it also sucks my body into an exhausted black tide. I still am one big cramp, and dehydration is real. Carissa’s eyes skip to the stuff she took out earlier and put on the table. The IV packaging, the saline bag. I try not to look at it because it’s going to make me puke again. Gagging up nothing but bile and spit is something I’d rather take a hard pass on.
“If you let me get you out of your clothes and tucked into the bed so I can put the IV in, I have a surprise for you.”
Damn it. I’m one of those odd people who adore surprises. There’s nothing better than a good mystery. I love the suspense. “What could you give to someone who has everything?” I try to unfold out of my C-shape, but the smallest movement sends waves of agony rippling through me and makes my stomach feel like I’m being impaled with an iron rod.
“I know you don’t have this.” She leans away and winks at me.
Winks.
I’ve never seen that before, and it does something to me that makes me feel just slightly less awful. It gives me some stage butterflies. I love that feeling right before I play a show. I’ve always used the nerves to fuel me instead of trying to drown them out. My grandma always encouraged me not to shut down and numb out. Feeling is the greatest gift in the world, even if you’re not feeling great. She told me it’s how you know you’re alive. It sounds token now, but back when I was a kid, I really needed to hear that.