“It’s hard to see the light when you’re surrounded by so much dark.” ~Johnny Outlaw
“Do you know what it’s like to be caught in an undertow?” Dalton asks as we drive away from Rochelle’s house.
“Sure. It’s like vertigo.”
“Yeah, you don’t know which way is up and you’re fighting to stay alive. It feels pointless to fight so hard and get nowhere—”
“But then you do,” I add. “You find your way out.” This conversation should worry me, but he’s searching for a truth to relate to, so I let him lead.
“Yeah, just like that.” He goes quiet, staring out the window at the old sixties style bungalows. As much as I want to throw a million questions at him, I don’t and wait for him to speak. When he does, there’s a dullness in his tone I’ve gotten used to hearing over the last week. He looks at me and says, “I’d forgotten what normal was like. This is normal—these houses, this neighborhood, and how we spend our time is normal.”
“I like normal.”
“I like normal too, but you deserve extraordinary. Normal is all any other guy has ever given you and those guys aren’t around anymore.”
I reach over and rub his thigh. “I should clarify that I like doing normal with you.” We’ve only dated a few months and most of my past relationships were over by this point.
“You weren’t someone I would have normally approached… that night.”
I put both hands on the wheel again. “Geez, thanks.”
He chuckles. “That’s not what I mean. You’re hot. You know it,” he says, a little smile revealed. “But you were so uptight and business like, pissy, and strong, independent. Believe it or not, that’s not the typical type of woman I date.”
I want to say something really sarcastic, but I refrain because though there’s a lightness to his voice, there’s also a seriousness blanketing his words.
He angles his body toward me while tugging on his seatbelt, and continues. “You see my flaws and my good side. You see who I am, not just what others want me to be.”
“Your fame doesn’t define you, Dalton.”
“To you. To you, I’m more than Johnny Outlaw. The world doesn’t want to see Jack Dalton. They want whatever they can take and some days,” he says, then sighs. “Some days I can give them everything they want, what they crave. Others… since Cory died, I’m left wondering if I’ll ever be able to be that person again. Do I even want to or am I done? Life is short. Too fucking short. Is this how I want to spend the rest of it?”
“You’ve had a lot to deal with. You’ve been touring for months and then, well, Cory passing away. I don’t think you have to figure out your entire life’s plan this week. You have time to think about what you want. Don’t make rash decisions based on temporary emotions.”
His fingers weave into my hair, a slight tug that makes me turn his way. There’s a hint of that arrogant man I know well tingeing the green of his irises when he says, “I’ve been a part of something great, built an empire. But it’s a career I fell into. I’ve admitted that many times before, but I’m ready to take ownership of it, take control back.” His grip loosens. “That means figuring out plan C. You’re right. It doesn’t have to be today.”
I keep my eyes forward, but then my gaze is drawn to him when he adds, “But you still deserve extraordinary.”
There’s something about the way he kisses. It makes me wonder if he kissed every other woman with as much passion as he shows me. He makes me feel like the only one, but that can’t be right. He’s Johnny Outlaw and with that name comes groupies and backstage fucks, and everything else that fame brings.
I try to drown out the thoughts that keep me out of the moment by listening to the loud music that fills the room. But it doesn’t do the trick.
He stops and looks at me, the moon providing the only light in the room. It’s enough to see his concern. “You okay?” he asks.
Seeing his desire makes me feel bad that I can’t give him the same back right now.
“You’re thinking too much,” he adds. “Just feel. Only feel.”
“I can’t shut my mind off.” I lean back, caught up in his reality, in Rochelle’s and my mind lost to the sadness.
Expecting an exaggerated sigh or a look of irritation, I turn away. But I don’t get any of that. His hand rubs my back and he says, “We don’t have to do anything… sexual. We can just hang out.”
When I turn to look at him, to my relief, all I see is sincerity. And there’s something about a guy being sincere that is incredibly sexy. Call me weak, but I fall for it every time.
Paparazzi surround the cemetery, but are kept out. The funeral is large and Dalton tells me there are famous musicians here, though I don’t recognize any.
We stand near Rochelle, but let her family comfort her. It seems to be what she needs. She’s too young to be widowed. Sadness permeates the air without effort, everyone letting it envelop the service of a man too young to die. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dalton’s hands at his sides, fingers moving quickly, strumming to a song no else can hear. My heart hurts as I watch him trying to cope in the only way he knows how—through music. I’m not even sure if he’s aware he’s doing it. His eyes are steady, staring at the casket before us, his shoulders slumped down. The tempo of his fingers picks up and I wonder if he’s playing a song I would know or if it’s one that will never be heard now that Cory’s dead.
Briefly, I debate if I should take his hand in mine, but I don’t, knowing it’s best to let him play on.
As the mourners walk away, Dalton and I, Rochelle and Neil remain in silence, standing there and watching as the casket is lowered. Neil bends down and grabs a handful of grass and blows. The small breeze sends them into the air, a few blades landing on the dark wood of his father’s casket. Neil smiles, looking pleased.
“He knows Cory’s not in there,” Rochelle says, large sunglasses covering her eyes as she keeps her attention forward. “What he doesn’t know is there are no remains to bury. The crash took care of that, but his parents insisted on tradition.” She turns to us and lifts her glasses, settling them on top of her head.
Neil takes her hand, and tears fill her eyes as she looks up to the sky, attempting to keep the tears at bay. “Daddy lives in here now,” Neil says, patting his chest over his heart.
We stare at the little boy—a little Rochelle, a lot of Cory, just like his baby brother. My heart breaks as I attempt to stop my own tears from falling.
Dalton kneels down, takes Neil’s hand, and says, “Your daddy is always with you. He was so proud to be your daddy too. He showed everyone your picture when he was on the road.”
When Dalton squats like that, Neil is eye-level. The little boy smiles and asks, “Are you, Uncle Johnny?”
Nodding, Dalton gives him an assuring smile. “I’m very proud of you, too.” He hugs him and Neil wraps his arms around Dalton’s neck as he lifts him up.
I take Rochelle’s hand and the four of us walk to the procession of cars, all waiting on us.
Cory and Rochelle’s families and closest friends gather at Tommy’s house. They decided it was best to host it here to keep people from discovering Rochelle’s home for privacy. Dalton shakes hands, gives hugs, receives lots, and thanks almost everyone for coming. The look in their eyes when they see him is a mixture of sympathy and curiosity. They want to know what will become of him almost as much as I do.
Everyone settles into quiet conversations and snacking. I sit next to Rochelle in the living room, wanting to hold the baby. CJ, although not even two weeks old, has grown so much. I rock him in my arms as Rochelle stares out the window. “I’m moving to Boston,” she says.
Surprised, I turn and ask, “You are?”
There’s a vacancy in her eyes when she looks my way, the strong woman I met months ago, now gone. “I don’t think I can do this by myself.”
“You aren’t alone.”
“I can’t rely on friends to replace Cory.”
“Cory traveled, toured a lot. You were already doing this on your own most of the time. You love your home and L.A.”
She gets up and walks into the kitchen. Her mother comes out and offers to hold the baby. I take the opportunity to find Rochelle again. She’s outside on the side of the patio alone. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” I say.
“You didn’t. You reminded me of why I left Boston. Cory grew up here. His family is here, our friends are here.” She tilts her head my way while leaning against the house. “I have a lot to think about, but you’re right. This is my home. I may not be able to stay in the house, every inch reminds me of Cory, but I should probably stay in L.A.”
After taking a sip from a flask, she hands it to me. I take it and sip. Whiskey. Strong like I always knew her to be.
“Don’t ever lose yourself in somebody else, Holli. It’s hard to remember who you used to be if they disappear.”
Sound advice in a genuine moment. “You’re stronger than you remember. That feisty girl who carved her own path in life is still in there. You just need to give her time to reveal herself again.”
“You’re good for Johnny.”
I sit down next to her, and say, “We’ve never spent this much time together.”
She laughs. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see. You just need to get to know these new sides you’re both seeing for the first time.” We both take another swig from the flask. “Johnny was Cory’s best friend, but he also considered him the brother he never had.”
“That’s one of the last things he called him before he left Paris.” Her smile turns as her eyes fill with tears. I hug her. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m pissed he left me.” She looks up, the anger replaced by a broken heart. “We never fought. He was too good, his soul was compassionate. He loved me through and through, and I knew no one else would ever love me like that. He took me, rough edges and all, and smoothed me out. He was the better one of the two of us. How am I going to raise those boys to be like their father when he’s not here?”
We finally let our tears fall freely and with my arm wrapped around her shoulder, I whisper, “You show them the love that you and Cory shared and do your best. You’re a wonderful mother, Rochelle. Cory’s death doesn’t change that.”
Sitting up, she nods as she takes a deep breath. “The site investigators found a ring,” she says. “They said they traced it back to Cory. He bought it at a shop in Paris.”
My heart stops along with my breathing.
She continues, “Do you think Johnny knows anything? I think Cory would have told him about it.”
About to break down, I quickly excuse myself. “I’ll get him for you.”
I rush inside and grab Dalton by the arm, dragging him to a guest room down a long hallway. After shutting the door, I sit down on the bed. His warmth comforts me as he sits down and pulls me to his side. “I’m sorry,” I start to say, “I know he was your friend and—”
“It’s okay. Today is hard on everyone.”
Snuggled into his side, I say, “They found the ring, Dalton. My heart is breaking for her. I couldn’t look at her knowing the truth. You need to tell her. She should know.”
He holds me, stroking my hair, his inner strength shining through. “I’ll talk to her.”