Page 98 of Every Shattered Note
“You think any of this can be pulled together?”
He doesn’t answer, but the silence speaks louder than any PR line he could throw at me.
My throat tightens.“I kissed her like it meant something,” I whisper.“Then I left like it didn’t.”
He exhales through his nose.There’s no pity in his eyes.Just exhaustion.“So go back.”
I turn to face him, slowly.“What?”
Eddie shrugs, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.“After this shitstorm dies down.Go back.Find her.Say the things you should’ve said before you walked out.”
My jaw locks.I press my palm to the wall behind me, needing the contact to stay upright.“It won’t blow over.”
He doesn’t argue.
“I’m not the guy who gets a clean slate,” I mutter.“I don’t get new chapters—I get headlines.I get whispers in dressing rooms and producers calling me a risk.I get shoved into a fucking rehab center in Oregon with no windows because it’s easier than facing the people I’ve disappointed.”
I drag my hand down my face.
“I usually just ...vanish.Hide somewhere no one’s looking, burn whatever’s left of my life down to the screws, and pretend it doesn’t hurt.I tell myself if I stay gone long enough, maybe I’ll forget I’m Dexter fucking Vaughn—the son of Victor Vaughn, the musical legend who fucked up more than he loved.”
Eddie’s voice is quieter now.“Everything fades, Dex.You just don’t stick around long enough to notice.You check out.Numb it all.Drown in it until it stops mattering.”
And he’s right.
That’s always been my cycle.Crash.Disappear.Come back half-alive, acting like I’m fine.Like the broken pieces didn’t cut me on the way out.
I press my thumb into the inside of my wrist, like I’m trying to hold myself in place.Trying to stop the drift.
And still ...the way it felt with her ...
It haunts me.
Maybe if I get through this press circus.Maybe if I play the game, read the statements, let the lawyers pick apart the past until there’s nothing left of me but something palatable.Maybe if I torch enough of the legacy he left behind, I’ll have space to build something with her.
Maybe.
Or maybe I’ve already destroyed whatever chance I had.
I don’t know.
But I do know this:
The next time I kiss her—if she still lets me get close—I won’t walk away.
Not this time.
Not without a fucking fight.
ChapterThirty-Seven
Private Message | EchoZone Internal Chat
From: MustLoveMusic
To: AlyEuphoriaEvents
Date: February 26, 2001 10:53 PM
