He didn't get to do this.

I could see it on his face the whole time we were driving back. It was there, mixed in with the pity and the horrified fascination. It was that fantasy, spinning out in his brain. He was already painting himself as the white knight. A rich, British nobleman sweeping a backwoods hick off her feet and rescuing her from her troubled past? Hell, it already sounded like a movie, some overwrought novel for desperate people.

But I wasn't desperate. I'd already rescued myself. With hard work, and my own two hands, I'd gotten myself out of Claybrook the way most people couldn't.

Taking me back there... He'd wanted to gape at where I came from like some kind of tourist. But I spent my whole life making sure that where I came from didn't matter.

He wasn't a hero.

He wasn't my hero.

And he didn't need to put me back together because I was never broken in the first place.

The night of Jonah King's last show in support of Wreckage was the first night I'd spent in the crew trailer in weeks. Deuces seemed surprised to see me blow past him. "Nice to see you, Newb," he rumbled.

"Yeah, I'm back," I said, grabbing my phone from my pocket. I didn't tell him it wasn't for long.

As I held my phone in my hand, the image of Niall's green eyes, hurt with lack of understanding, flashed in front of me. But as I dialed the number and headed back out into the lot, I managed to bat it away.

I wanted his love, but now all I could ever get from him was pity.

And fuck pity.

"Reese's Pieces, what's going on?" Uncle Gil sounded surprised to hear from me.

"Hey Gil! Don't ask me why, but do you know the lead tech working on Jonah King's tour?"

Gil was silent, and I could tell he was suppressing the urge to ask me why at my request. I tapped my fingers impatiently on the top of my thigh.

"Okay then," he finally said. "You're gonna wanna talk to Jim Bolan. I can text you his number." He paused for a moment. "You want to work on Jonas King's tour? Mind if I ask why?"

Because he's nice. Because I'm not interested in him. Because he doesn't have green eyes. "Yes. I mind."

"Fair enough," Gil chuckled. "Well, I heard you got promoted to lead bass tech. This'd be a step down."

"Fine," I said shortly.

"You sure you want to do this?" Gil sounded concerned.

I nodded my head. "I do," I said firmly.

"Do I need to come there and kick someone's ass?" my uncle growled protectively.

"No Gil, I'm okay. Just need a change."

"Okay." He still sounded hesitant. "Well I'm sure Jim'll be happy to take you on. That King kid is getting bigger every time he plays. Good tunes, good chops. He's kind of a little weird, but I guess that comes with being a child star, huh?"

"Sure, I guess." A thought was occurring to me. "Hey Gil?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

Hardly believing what I was about to ask, I heard myself say. "Have you seen Dad?"

Silence spread out for a long time. When Gil finally spoke again, it was in a voice quiet and heavy with regret. "Yes. I see him."

I heard the unspoken explanation in his voice. "Because he's bad, huh?"

"Liver," was Gil's one-word explanation.

I felt something sinking, twisting, and sliding in my stomach, dragging me down. I felt fifty pounds heavier all of a sudden, and my voice was so tight that all I could manage was, "Shit."

"Yeah," Gil said. "But he won't do nothin' about it, though."

I closed my eyes, remembering the way my father's yellowed skin hung off of his bones. "How much longer does he have?" I asked.

"No idea. It could be weeks, it could be years. Your dad is really tough to take down."

I pressed my lips together in a grimace. "Yes," I said shortly. "I know."

"But, it will take him down in the end," Gil said. "I don't think even if he stopped cold turkey right now it would do any good."

"Does anyone... Watch him?"

"You mean in town?" Gil sounded slightly amused. ""And who do you think would do that, you know? No, everyone knows him there. And nobody's that crazy."

"Oh god!" A sob I didn't want to cry got caught in my throat.

"Hey," Gil said softly. "Listen kid. You know I've told you this before, but sounds like I gotta say it again. You don't owe him, no matter what he tries to tell you."

"I know," I said meekly.

"No, I don't think you do. Getting out of Claybrook was the best move you could ever make."

"He's gonna kill himself, Gil."

"And that's his choice. Hell, it's a miracle he hasn't wrapped his piece-of-shit car around a tree already, right? Slow or quick, the alcohol's gonna win in the end."

"You always knew," I started to realize. "You knew how bad it was. That's why you came around so much."

Gil laughed like it was completely obvious. "Well sure. It ain't a secret your Dad's a drunk skunk not worth a damn, Reese. But that doesn't mean you're not worth the whole world."