IAN

The crowd’s cheers help drown out any lingering thoughts, and when the band starts playing it’s just me and the music. But the isolation isn’t the same, because I’m not playing for hundreds of fans. I’m playing for somebody who isn’t even here. 

The more I thought about what Tessa said before I left, the more I realized that Kasey isn’t the only one who gets to choose who is or isn’t in her life just because she’s scared. Sometimes, you have to admit that the people you never thought would be there are the exact people you need.

 I’m not stupid enough to think Kasey needs me, but I do think that she wants me, and it’s an important distinction. If I’m going to get her to believe that, she needs to trust me. The real me, which means revealing every piece I can to her. 

By the time we finish our last song, I’m covered in sweat from the moving around so much. One by one, we walk off the stage, waving to the crowd one last time as they scream for more. It’s after midnight, and while most of Belgium is probably still in party mode, I’m ready to crash.

In our dressing room, we grab bottles of water and drop on the furniture scattered around the room.

“Are we ever going to get used to this time difference?” I groan, downing half the water.

Bash rubs his face. “Probably not. And if we do, it’ll be time for us to head home again.”

We all nod in agreement.

“We’ve got one more show here, right?” Ben asks.

I yawn loudly, leaning back on the couch to stretch out my legs. “Tomorrow night. Then we’re flying over to London.” 

“I still think it’s bullshit we’re getting cut from half our locations,” Dylan grumbles from the corner of the room.

Bash shrugs. “Not much we can do about it. I’d say two months isn’t bad. We’re lucky we had the chance to see this much.”

“We were signed to do the full six,” Dylan points out. “We always get preached to about honoring contracts.”

When we were offered a six-month tour overseas it was because the original solo act got sick and needed time off. Or that’s the story that the press got. David was actually forced into rehab after his little cocaine addiction nearly killed him when he overdosed. But that wouldn’t have flown with the label, so giving him time off to deal with his illness was what the publicists went with. At least it got us on tour. 

Ben looks at Dylan. “We had no fighting chance to stay on once David Andrews made a full recovery.”

“Plus,” I add, “our contract stated that we would step down if he came back. He was cleared, and he’s ready to get back into his tour.”

Dylan doesn’t relent. “I don’t see why we can’t just both do the tour.”

“There’s not enough time. The concerts aren’t set up for two different performers. Just drop it, dude. Bash is right, we’re lucky we’ve been able to do what we’ve done as is.”

Ben asks, “What does that mean for us when we’re back in the States then? We just got back from break, I don’t see us taking another one.”

Dylan eyes me, like taking a break would make us revert back to our fight about how to treat the band.

I shrug. “Tom mentioned working on the album during the Skype call earlier. I guess we work on some music, maybe book some local gigs.”

Ben accepts the answer, and pulls out his phone to text someone. Bash is already on his, ignoring the conversation, and Dylan is still staring at me.

“Just say it,” I tell him, sitting up.

“Where are we going to record?”

“I assumed at the studio in New York.”

I know it’s his way of asking if we were moving locations, specifically closer to the Vermont border. Even though he sees my dedication to Relentless, he still sees my struggle to find what I’m looking for. We all know what I’m looking for isn’t in New York. 

Whether we want to admit it or not, the band isn’t everything to me anymore. It scares more than just him, but it’s something I have to acknowledge. But the fact is, we were all bound to make additions to our lives eventually. 

I look at the clock on the wall. “You guys all set to go back to the hotel? Driver should be ready by now.”

Since the meet-and-greet was before the concert, we have the chance to leave right after. All I can think about is going to my room, taking a shower, and talking to the one person who still consumes me.

Bash and Ben are already walking outside, with Dylan and I bringing up the rear. He clasps my shoulder and gives me a nod. “The new song went over well,” he states as we make our way toward the car.

“I think previewing it now will help boost sales,” I agree, voice void of the emotion I know he’s looking for.

“You going to call her when we get back?”

His question surprises me, because he’s been avoiding bringing up any conversation involving Kasey. It’s like saying her name will cause some big blowout between us.

I nod. “Yeah, was thinking about it.”

He presses his lips together, before opening the door for me. “I hope it goes well.”

I tilt my head to study him.

He sighs. “I can tell you’re not all with it, man. So if this is the chick who makes you start focusing again, then why I should be pissed at that?”

I’m taken aback, but smile. “I’m glad I have your seal of approval.”

He rolls his eyes. “We both know you don’t need it.”

I clasp his shoulder back. “I know, but it’s nice to know when I have it. What my friends think means more than it probably should, but I don’t mind admitting that.”

“Are you getting in, or going to make out right there?” Bash calls from inside the car.

I snort. “You’re just jealous I don’t give you more attention.”

He laughs. “I’m all set with Opal, but thanks.”

Dylan chuckles. “Poor fucker doesn’t even have the girl yet, and he’s already claimed her as his.”

“You’ll find that someday, too, you know.”

He winces. “I sure as hell hope not.”

Dylan is one of the few of us who loves everything he has. He doesn’t want to change, because he doesn’t think the old version of himself was worth anything. Maybe one day he’ll see how untrue that really is.

After my shower, I plug my phone in, and take about a minute to debate whether or not I want to go through with the call. 

It’s only six in the morning there, but I know that six is usually when she gets up, so I shouldn’t be bothering her. And we haven’t done more than text twice since we talked. I asked her how she was, and she replied. No deep, soul-baring conversations.

But I’ll take it. I’ll take anything she’s willing to give me, because it means she is trying. And knowing how busy she is, what time she gives me means something. 

I dial her number before I chicken out.

On the fourth ring, she picks up.

“It’s early.” Her voice sounds rough, what I image I sound like before coffee in the morning. Not a pleasant thing. 

“Am I safe to assume you’re not a morning person?” I guess, chuckling. If I could picture her right now, it’d probably be messy hair and pajamas. I remember the ones she wore the night she came to tell me to turn my music down.

My memory recollects the tiny shorts she wore. 

“I’m just not a getting-up person,” she grumbles into the phone. “Why did you call?”

Straight to the point.

“I wanted to talk to you, that’s all. See how you are.”

Part of me wants to ask about Taylor, but I don’t know if that’s a sore spot. Even though I asked Pop to keep me updated, just like I asked him for her phone number, I know he wouldn’t give me any information he didn’t think fit. 

There’s silence for a long moment.

“Oh,” she finally answers. “Well that’s nice, I guess.”

I chuckle. “Yeah. So …”

She clears her throat. “So … how is everything?” 

She sounds nervous, like she’s trying to figure out what to say and what to avoid. It isn’t a very Kasey thing to do, so I shut it down.

“You can be real with me, you know.”

“Uh …”

“You were real with me before I left. You threw me out.”

She laughs. “I didn’t think you liked that.”

“Being kicked out after having amazing sex? Nah. This might surprise you, but I’m the cuddling type, especially with you. However, I respected your decision, and the fact you went after what you wanted. Didn’t stop it from sucking though.”

“It also didn’t stop you from contacting me,” she points out. “You never told me how you got my number.”

“I’m Ian Wells,” is my reply.

“So what? Your name gives you everything you want? That’s really creepy.”

“Not everything,” I say quietly. Not you.

She snorts. “Don’t get cheesy on me, Wells.”

“Just pointing out the obvious.”

“And I’m countering the obvious. The obvious isn’t so obvious to some people.”

There’s silence. 

I sigh. “I may have contacted somebody I know who is good at getting numbers.”

“Again … that’s creepy.”

“Or romantic.”

“Very murder-y.”

“How is that murder-y?”

“You could call me on my phone, a number I don’t recognize, and just breathe into it like those weird people do in the movies.”

“You watch weird shit,” I muse. 

“You admitted to watching Jersey Shore when it was still on the air, so do you really want to argue with me about the weird shit I watch? I mean you probably watched Honey Boo Boo, too.”

I ignore the last quip. Partially because I may have watched an episode or two. “Valid point. Shutting up.”

She laughs. “You gave in too easily.”

“I know when I’m beat.”

“Clearly not. You got my number, even after what I told you.” I hear the challenge in her tone that isn’t letting up.

I sit up in bed. “And you called me when I texted you, even though you didn’t have to. I think there’s something to say about both occurrences.”

She doesn’t answer.

“Don’t get shy on me now, Miller. I’ve seen plenty of you.”

“You’re not going to say some corny line about having seen all of me?” 

I shrug. “I haven’t, though. Have I seen your naked body? Sure, and in case you were wondering, I look forward to seeing it again. But it’s just skin. It’s what under it that I haven’t seen.”

“Again, you sound like a murderer.”

I sigh. “I’m not talking about your organs, and you know it.”

She ignores me. “You act like I’m going to sleep with you again, but I never said I was.”

“You also said you weren’t going to talk to me again.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t want contact, Kasey. That’s the same thing, and it hurt just as much as telling me straight-up that you didn’t want to talk to me again. I’m going to ask once, and I sincerely hope that you answer honestly. Okay?”

I take her silence as an agreement.

“Why did you cut me out?”

After a long moment of no reply, I think the call cut out or she hung up. But when I pull the phone away, I notice that she’s still on.

“Don’t think about it,” I press. “The more you think about it, the more calculated your answer becomes. Then it isn’t honest.”

“Why does it matter?” 

“Because I was honest with you, and you stomped on that like it was a joke. I’m not trying to be an asshole, I just want to hear from the person I want in my life why cutting me out was so easy for you.”

“Ian, I—”

“The truth,” I press again.

“You weren’t the practical choice,” she blurts out. “I have to make a lot of decisions in my life, and when you walked back in like you owned a piece of my heart, I shouldn’t have had to choose. But I did, and it irritated me. Before you showed up, there was one choice. No doubts or questions. I was happy. I seemed happy.”

But you weren’t. She doesn’t have to say it in order for me to understand.

“There are a lot of things that I’m counting on, Ian. Even now, I don’t know if one of those things is you. I was told to choose what made me happy, and I did.”

An invisible knife pokes it’s tip into my heart, threatening to slice deeper. She chose to let go of me and embrace Jake. 

“Why would you think that?” My voice is eerily calm for the amount of hammering my heart is doing.

She sighs. “It’s not like I’m talking about life choices involving what movie to buy in the five-dollar bin at Walmart, or what shoes to wear with my dress. I can count on you for opinions—I know you’re a phone call away for those.”

“First off, I’d never suggest getting movies from that bin at Walmart, because half of the movies are shit.”

“They are not!”

“Most of the movies are flops. Or the DVDs are broken from being tossed in by people because of how bad they are.”

“I bought Dirty Dancing from that bin!” she huffs. “And I swear if you tell me that Dirty Dancing is a bad movie, I will hunt you down and kick you in the balls, Swayze-style.”

“Uh … did Swayze kick somebody in the balls in that movie?”

“No, but I think he was in that fighting movie, and people had to of gotten kicked there!”

I snort. “What kind of logic is that?”

“We’re getting off track,” she tells me, groaning. 

“I’m not done making my argument.”

“What else is there to say besides the fact you have awful movie tastes?”

“How would you know if I have bad movie tastes? You barely got to know me before you took advantage of me.”

She makes a noise that cannot possibly be described as anything but a flabbergasted shriek. It’s what I imagine a mouse sounds like if it got stepped on by somebody.

I shake off the weird thought.

“I did not take advantage of you!”

“Says who? I came to your apartment to make you some amazing fucking fajitas, which I will make for you some day, and instead you seduce me like one of those novels you read.”

“Oh, God. You’re going to criticize me about my romances, too?”

Too?

“You know, what is it with men always picking on women about their novel choices! I don’t stereotype you by saying you only read porn magazines.”

“Most guys don’t read porn magazines.”

“Well how would I know? I’m not a guy!”

“I am well aware. I became well acquainted with you, remember? Plus, if you like the books you read, why would I care? It’s not like you’re forcing them on me.”

“You’re telling me that you wouldn’t judge me for having some sexed-up shirtless man on the cover making a seductive face?”

I snort. “Nope. Just like if I were to get some porn magazine, I’d hope you wouldn’t judge me.”

“Touché.”

I roll my eyes. “Now, if you were to tell me that you’re one of those people who skip to the ending to find out what happens, then I’d judge.”

No answer.

“You’re one of those people,” I accuse.

“I don’t like not knowing what happens!”

“The unknown is the best part of the adventure, Kasey! Why do you spoil it? That doesn’t even make reading the story worth it.”

“I don’t like reading depressing books, so if it ends in a way I don’t like, I know not to waste my time.”

I scoff. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, right! You’re telling me that, in over two decades of your life, you haven’t heard somebody say something stupider than that?”

“Nope.”

“Donald Trump?”

I snort.

“Kim Kardashian?”

I groan. “Always about those damn Kardashians.”

 “They’re famous for doing nothing and saying stupid things,” she informs me dryly. “If you’re insisting that what I said sounds dumber than something Kim frigging Kardashian has said, then I don’t think I can continue this conversation.”

“Well you’re just as dramatic as her,” I tease.

She swears at me.

“Just hear me out,” I relent. “Reading a book that makes you feel something is what makes the story so good. It’s no different than music. Haven’t you ever heard a song that’s made you cry? Or at least tear up? You don’t necessarily know how the song will end, but you listen to it, and sometimes even repeat it. What makes a book so different?”

“Maybe I just don’t want to feel disappointed that there’s life out there that sucks as much as mine. Reading should be an escape from the bad stuff, and if I’m going to want to throw a book across the room when I finish it, it’ll be like this endless cycle of misery.”

“You sure you’re not related to the Kardashians? Pretty sure they have books out you could borrow and spoil.”

“Two seconds from hanging up,” she warns.

“If you get to the destination without enjoying the adventure, what do you take from it? You won’t have any memories, or emotions toward anything that happened. What’s an adventure without a few tears?”

“You’re getting sappy on me.”

“One of us has to be that way,” I muse. “Might as well be me since you’ve got the war paint on.”

“We have gone completely off topic thanks to you,” she chides at me.

“It’s your fault that you’re a fun-sucker of all adventures. Live a little. What did I tell you before about taking risks?”

“And what did I say about regretting them?”

“You won’t know unless you try,” I bargain, feeling like we’re going in circles just to come to the same conclusion each time. 

“The point is,” she grounds out, ignoring the conversation at hand, “I don’t want you to just be a phone call if I need you, and I don’t want to need you. But I acknowledge that there are things that will be easier with people around, and you’re not around. And Jake … he is.”

Guess that explains why he’s the practical choice.

“The practical choice isn’t always the right one,” I tell her confidently. “In fact, the practical choice is usually the one that makes us miserable in the end, because it cuts off what we really want. We use that choice as an excuse to settle, and nobody should have to settle. You, especially.”

 “What makes it so bad if I settle, Ian? Jake is a good guy. No. He’s a great guy. He loves Taylor, and he … he respects me. His mother is amazing, and his job is great—”

“Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself why you should stay with him. Sure, all of those things sound wonderful. Maybe later you can think about them while sliding down a magical rainbow into a pot of gold while that Lucky Charms dude chases children around, but right now you should think about how unhappy you’d be if you just settled for this.”

“There’s no settling involved!”

“There are plenty of men who are just like that, but can make you feel something. It’s those men that you want, Kasey. Not some guy you’ve known for years, and love as a friend. There are more epic loves out there.”

“Is this where you tell me you’re one of those men?”

“I could be,” I say plainly. “But I’m not saying that now. Happiness is something we overlook all the time. We take it for granted every day, and why? It’s only when we’re truly unhappy that we realize we’re missing something. It’s this empty feeling inside of you that you can’t comprehend.”

I stand up and pace the room, the silk white curtains moving from the breeze I make.

The hole I felt before going to West Haven was gone when I was actually staying there, like having a piece of my childhood back was what I needed. But I didn’t want to tell Kasey that yet, because she clearly needs more time to figure out that I’m serious about staying connected to her. I don’t want to scare her off. 

“I told you when I left that day that I hoped you and Jake were happy. I don’t doubt for a second that you are with him, but is it the kind of happiness that lasts a lifetime? Is it the kind of happiness that musicians write about in less than ninety seconds that causes fans to replay the song on repeat until everybody around you hates it? If it’s that kind of happiness, then congratulations. But I don’t think it is, as much as you want it to be. I’d hate for you to think you’re happy now, and then watch it fade away. Those couples … they think they can survive it. Fight for it. But it never works out. They’re never the same.”

She lets out an easy breath. “That’s …”

Intense. Real. True. 

I want nothing more than for her to admit that she doesn’t have that kind of happiness with Jake, but I can’t force anything more than the truth on her. Eventually, she’ll have to see it for herself―understand that settling never ends well, because it just means we’re fooling ourselves into believing we’re fine until we break. 

I don’t want that for her.

“That’s what I have to figure out,” she finally admits, her voice a breathy murmur.

I nod to myself, staring at the view from my window. “If you want Taylor to be happy, then you should show her what that’s really like. That’s all I’m getting at.”

There’s a pause. “When did you get so smart?” she whispers, almost hurt that I’m capable of giving good advice.

“Not sure. Sometime after puberty, I guess.”

I can picture her rolling her eyes. 

“So you’re not upset I called?”

She sighs. “No, not upset. Surprised, I guess. I didn’t expect you to forgive me for that day.”

“I get why you did it,” I tell her. “Jake told me about Taylor. I wanted to ask how things were going with that, but I didn’t want to butt in.”

“You always butt in,” she deadpans.

“Well, I know when to and when not to. After what happened with the press, I know that putting Taylor in a situation where she can be put in the spotlight isn’t ideal.”

She’s quiet for a long time. 

Then, “It might not matter, anyway. They found my mom. She showed up sometime last night. Although her boyfriend was nowhere to be found. One of the officers on the case arrested her. She’s at lockup.”

My heart drops for her. “Shit, Kasey. That’s … that’s rough.”

“I should be upset, right? I’m not. I’m more upset about them finding my dad and possibly letting him take Taylor away. I don’t have custody of her yet, so I may not be able to keep her.”

I lean against the window sill. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know how much having her around means to you.”

“Thanks,” she murmurs. “Jake thinks they found my father’s number. They’re calling today. I should hear something by tonight.”

“Does Taylor know about any of this?”

“No. I can’t tell her. I’m not sure what that says about me.”

“It says that you care,” I answer softly. “I wouldn’t tell her until I know what’s going on anyway.”

“She doesn’t even know our dad. And I feel bad enough about not spending a lot of time with her. She’s been with Rosie a lot while I work to get more money for things. I just … I’m worried either way that she won’t have somebody in her life enough. And having Dad in her life all the sudden could be bad anyway. I read that in a child psychology book.”

“You’re doing what you can for her,” I comfort. “That isn’t a bad thing.”

“I guess.” I can tell she doesn’t believe it.

“Did you skip to the end on that book, too?” I tease, knowing how she is.

“Surprisingly, no.”

 My brows go up. “Sounds like you’re making progress.”

“I’m just trying to be the best version of myself for her,” she answers plainly. “Somebody told me I couldn’t be that unless I find what makes me happy. And reading, knowing things, makes me happy. Especially if it means helping her.”

I smile at that.

“Are you going to see your mother?” 

“In jail?” she scoffs. “No. Why, should I?”

“She’s your mom.”

“And she’s a worthless one,” she grumbles. “She’s put me through hell, Ian. I don’t want to talk to her. And if you tell me to forgive her, forget about it. Save your breath on that lecture, because it’s not happening.”

“Whoa. I wasn’t going to say that.”

“But you always have something to say.”

“Family is family. We can’t choose who we get, so we have to embrace who we have. I’m not saying forgive her. But maybe see her even if it’s closure. Maybe she’ll get the help she’ll need finally.”

She doesn’t say anything, and I don’t push.

I can hear faint music in the background on her end, and I ask who it is.

“DNCE,” she answers, her voice a little more awake than when we started talking. 

I scrunch my face. “You actually like them?”

“They’re more my thing than …” She clears her throat. I get what she means. She likes them better than Relentless.

“You’re joking, right?” 

“I don’t joke about DNCE.”

I make a face. “It’s Jonas, isn’t it? Listen, I’ve met the guy, and he isn’t that impressive. I mean, look what he did to Taylor Swift.”

She snorts. “It’s about their music, not about the guys. I like the variety of songs. Plus, Taylor made bank off him. They’re even.”

“‘Cake By the Ocean’?” I doubt. “Please.”

Her laugh is light. “Judge all you want, but I like them. I’m not saying your band sucks, because you don’t. I’m simply saying that they’re good, too.”

I can honestly say I’ve never heard much of their music. When “Cake By the Ocean” became big, it was always playing on the radio. I’ve only heard one or two others.

“DNCE,” I repeat again. “Huh.”

“What?” she sighs.

“I never would have pegged you for the boy band type,” I admit. “I mean, I’m flattered. It’s practically fate. Being that I’m the front man of one and all.”

“Only you would think that fate is involved here,” she muses. “Just because I like a band, doesn’t mean that I have to like you.”

“But you do.”

She just grumbles to herself.

“I should probably let you go,” I tell her, knowing she needs to get ready.

“You haven’t told me anything about you,” she points out. “I think it’s only fair. After all, you started this conversation.”

I smile, telling myself she’s stalling for more time. “Don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of time for the get-to-know-yous later on.”

“Uh, we will?”

“Yep. Tour is ending early, so you’ll see me within the next month or so. Maybe by then, life will settle down for the both of us, and you’ll be able to enjoy our time together without added stress.”

There’s a frown to her voice. “Your life doesn’t seem to ever become less stressful.”

I shrug. “People don’t bother me in my hometown because I have an agreement. I can get the same agreement for West Haven.”

“Wait, what? Why would you be in West Haven?”

I shake my head, her naivety amusing me.

“You see, there’s a girl there,” I explain lightly, “and she’s determined to get to know me despite her better judgement. I have to appease her. I was thinking movie and a dinner. Some light chatting.”

Complete silence.

“Kasey?”

“Ian, I’m … I’m with Jake.”

Another kick in the gut. 

I stare at the carpet like it’s just become the most interesting thing in the room.

“I see.”

“And I think that you coming back is great, but I don’t think that it should be because of me, because I’m not worth it.”

Not worth it.

“You are,” I argue quietly. “Jesus, Kasey. The more you put yourself down, the more I want to prove you wrong.”

And I will.

It’s a promise that I plan to keep.

“You have things to work out still, and I’ll give you space to do that. But we both know that Jake isn’t the guy you want to be with. So when I’m done with tour, and done working on our album, expect me. Because you are worth it. You’re worth the risk. You’re worth the chance. You’re worthy of so much, Kasey. Happiness. Forgiveness. The world.”

She lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t know how you can forgive so easily, Wells.”

“Everybody is worthy of forgiveness if you believe in them, because forgiveness doesn’t determine the past, but it decides the future. I refuse to be stuck in some time warp of what-ifs and missed opportunities. That isn’t me. That isn’t us. Maybe you’ll find that out, too, and start seeing who is worthy of that in your own life. You might be surprised. Just tell me when, Kay. Tell me when you’re ready.”

I end the call when she doesn’t reply.