Chapter Thirty-Four
Jonathan
Dammit.
I rub my hands through my hair, pacing back and forth in my hotel room as Barry details the reasons I have to cancel my trip to see Gabby tomorrow.
Hands wrapped around the back of my neck, I let my head fall back to stare at the ceiling. “This isn’t what I needed right now.”
“I know,” he says. “But this is my job. This is your job. You’re the one who wanted to put your brothers in the next show. The only time for the three of you to work out what you’re going to play and figure out how you’re going to block it is on the bus between here and Columbia. You should’ve known better than to try to schedule a trip to Spokane this close to your show.”
I level a glare at Barry. “Brendan was supposed to come out before this. I scheduled the trip before he canceled.”
Hands up in surrender, Barry shakes his head. “I’m just the messenger. Better call Gabby and tell her now. Order some flowers or something. Figure out a way to make it up to her.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, staring at the floor. He says something else, and I grunt in response, but I’m not paying attention to Barry anymore. I think it must’ve been goodbye, because the door opens and closes a second later, and I’m alone.
Shit.
Fuck.
Hell.
I release a deep sigh.
Ever since Gabby called about the opera opportunity earlier this week, things between us have been … off. She canceled our call that night, claiming she was tired and swamped with homework.
I hadn’t thought too much of it that night. She’d been with me the weekend before, and we hadn’t slept much. Plus all the flying in the span of a few days. She had to be exhausted. And she has a full load this semester. Between finding practice time, rehearsing, and her theory classes, she has as much on her plate as most college students. Add in the homework for her non-major classes on top of that? She’s always snowed under. And professors have a knack for assigning big papers and major projects to be due all at the same time, so there’s an ebb and flow to each semester, where sometimes you’re slammed, and sometimes it’s not so bad.
Right now she’s a few weeks into the spring semester and the first wave of papers are due.
So I’d texted back saying I hoped she got everything done and got plenty of sleep.
The next night, she’d ended our call after only fifteen minutes, with the same story.
And the night after that too.
And the little bit of time that we did talk, she was quiet, withdrawn, not her usual self. Even when I’d tried to draw her out, she gave minimal answers. And when I told her goofy stories to make her laugh, they barely elicited a chuckle.
I know something’s wrong with Gabby. I’m just not sure what it is or why she won’t tell me.
I had planned to get to the bottom of it tomorrow when I got there.
But now that won’t happen.
Damn. Shit. Fucking hell.
With a deep breath, I pull out my phone, hit her name in my contacts list, and press the phone to my ear, holding my breath while it rings.
When she picks up, she gives her usual greeting. “Hey.” But it’s subdued. Lacking the warmth and enthusiasm I’m used to.
“Hey, Gabby.” I close my eyes and force myself to spit out the reason I’m calling. “I have some bad news.”
“Oh?” There’s a little more animation in her voice at that question. But not much.
“I won’t be able to make it out there tomorrow.”
“Oh.” That’s definitely disappointment.
I swallow hard. “I’m so sorry. Brendan and Colt are playing a set with me next weekend. Brendan was supposed to have met up with us a couple of weeks ago to plan everything out, but he bailed.”
“Yeah, I remember you talking about that.”
“Yeah, well. He’s flying out today. And he’ll be on the bus with us while we go to Columbia. It’s the only chance we have to hammer everything out.” I soften my voice. “I’m really sorry, Gabby.”
She sighs. “Yeah. Me too.”
“I really wanted to see you. I feel like we’ve been disconnected lately. Even with the distance between us, it hasn’t ever felt like this before. I don’t like it.”
I hear her sniff over the phone, and my gut clenches.
“Yeah,” she says, her voice cracking. “I know what you mean.”
“I’d invite you to come along with us. But I know you have school. And I don’t want to get in the way of you going after your dreams.”
She draws in a shuddery breath, but all she says is, “Yeah.”
“How’s your day going?”
“Um.” Sniff. “Alright.”
A sad smile pulls at my mouth. “I probably didn’t make it any better.”
“You’re—it’s—it’s fine. I get it. I’m sad, but I’m not mad at you or anything.”
“Okay.” That’s slightly reassuring. But at the same time, not really. Normal Gabby would’ve had more of a reaction. More words. More frustration. Something.
This Gabby just sounds like she wants to curl up in a ball and cry. And I don’t know what’s going on with her that’s making her this way. And I don’t know what questions to ask to get her to tell me. Normally I can read her so well. I was hoping that if we were face-to-face, in the same room, where I could touch her, that I’d be able to figure it out. Or at least sit and hold her long enough until she felt like spilling all her thoughts to me.
But I can’t do that on the phone. She won’t sit with me long enough. And I’m not there holding her, soothing her, making her feel safe.
Instead, I’m on the other side of the country. Waiting for my jackass brother to get here so we can board a bus and drive for days.
I love my brothers. They’re pretty cool guys. And getting to know Colt as a person, rather than just my annoying baby brother, has been better than I would’ve expected. But if I got to choose, I’d always choose spending time with Gabby.
She smells better, for one thing.
She sniffs again. “Well, um, thanks for letting me know. I’ve gotta go, though.”
I sigh, unsurprised that the call is ending so quickly. I’d hoped she’d talk for longer. But it’s the middle of the day. Even if she were acting normal, she’d probably have to go anyway. But with all this between us, it feels like more than just needing to get to class or finish practicing or whatever else. It feels like more distance.
I haven’t been worried about her breaking up with me again. She promised me she wouldn’t do that.
But is the strain of long distance getting to be too much for her?
We’ve promised each other that we’d make it work. But how long can we really take this?
Would it be easier for her if I let her go?
The thought is a knife to my heart, but I can’t shake it. I can’t shake the idea that maybe, instead of helping her by encouraging her to write, to perform with me, to network with other bands, maybe instead I’m hurting her. Taking her away from where she wants to be. And her putting this distance between us is her way of trying to reclaim that.
What if the promises we made each other under different—better—circumstances are now holding her back?
I don’t think I could live with myself if that’s true.