Page 92 of Rescue

Except for Lennon. He stands behind his bass, head down, for most of the show. His hair is longer than it was at the start of the tour, covering his forehead when his head is tilted like that. I can’t see his eyes. But I have a feeling I know what they look like. Closed off. Broken. Just like the day we met.

How can I tell him?I think, over and over again. He’ll worry about me. He has enough to worry about.

For most of this tour, I tried to hold myself back from him. James told me that I need to protect myself, that getting close to him could cause me more pain. In truth, I wanted to protect him as well. Wanted to keep him from the mess and the darkness I felt inside. But ever since Paris, ever since he told me about his accident, I’ve let myself believe that I could help him. That I wouldn’t hurt him because I understood him. That our similarities meant we could help each other. I wanted to give him strength, help him to see that there are bright and good things in the world, that he’d get through everything he faced.

Watching him now on that stage, so far away from me, I wonder, for the first time in weeks, if it can really work that way. It seems impossible to me that I could be the one to show him anything bright or good.

How can we help each other when we’re both so broken?

Paige has planned a night out to celebrate the last show. Part of me wants to skip it, to hide away in my hotel room. But I know my friends will never let me be alone tonight. They’ll pretend they want to stay in too. I can’t do that to them. It’s the last night of the tour, and they deserve to celebrate. So I paste on a fake smile and assure them that a night out is just what I need.

I see my fake smile reflected on Lennon’s face when he tells his brothers that he’s looking forward to it.

We sit in the van together, holding hands, neither of us talking. We’re all shoved together in the small space, forcing me practically into his lap. But somehow I haven’t felt so much distance between us since we met. I wonder if he can sense it too. Or if he’s so far in his own head that he can’t see what’s happening around him.

The club is awful—crowded and full of fans who recognize Ransom and try to push past security to get to them. The music is too loud, some techno pop crap that I can’t stand. The other Ransomes are in a great mood, jubilant about the success of the tour and excited to get home. Lennon and I don’t dance. We sit at our table in the VIP section, and I assure my bandmates over and over again that they should dance, that they should have fun, that I’m fine.

There’s a bottle of tequila on the table. The Ransomes don’t notice how quickly the level of the liquid drops. James sees, I’m sure, but he doesn’t say anything. Lennon sips his own drink, holding my hand but not talking. He’s in his head, a million miles away from me. I don’t try to force my way in to join him.

“Maybe we should get out of here,” James says after I’ve made my way through a good third of the bottle. “You look tired.”

His meaning is clear. He doesn’t want me to react to this mess the way I usually do. As ever, he’s trying to protect me. And for once I decide to let him. “Bed sounds good,” I say, extracting my hand from Lennon’s. “You coming?”

“I should probably stay for a while,” he says, even though he sounds exhausted. “Cash has this thing about us celebrating together. They’ll be upset if I leave so early.” He kisses my forehead. “I’ll call you when I get back to the hotel, okay?”

It’s going to be fine, I tell myself as I nod, trying to tamp down on the panic in my chest at the thought of being without him. He’ll come and find me when he gets in, and we’ll sleep together, the way we always do. He’ll hold me, and I’ll make myself forget how shitty I feel. I don’t have to tell him anything. We can just be.

But as I head out with James, I pass Levi. He frowns and pulls me away from the crowd. “Lennon isn’t going with you?”

I shake my head. “He said his brothers would be upset.”

Levi is still frowning. “How does he seem to you, Haylee?”

I meet his gaze, trying to read his eyes in the darkness. He’s worried too, I realize. “Keep an eye on him, Levi,” I say, the fear rising again. “He’s… not sleeping very well.”

Levi’s eyes widen. “I thought he’s been doing so much better…”

“Just keep an eye on him.”

He nods, and I leave the club, feeling numb. Was that overstepping my bounds, inviting Levi into this mess when Lennon was so adamant about waiting to tell everyone? I can’t make myself care. Leaving him alone when he feels like that is too frightening. And I don’t think I have it in me to help him right now.

Back at the hotel, James tries to convince me to come hang out in his room. “We’ll get room service. It’s our last night with Ransom footing the bill. Might as well take advantage of it.”

I do my best to smile. “I really am tired, James. I think I’ll just go lie down.” The truth is, I can’t stand to spend another minute pretending I’m okay. I’m tired of the fake smiles, tired of knowing my friends are looking at me, worried, waiting to see how I’ll react. I just want to sit in the dark and quiet of my own room for a few hours.

I can tell he doesn’t want to go along with it. “You’ll call me if you need anything?”

“Of course. Besides, Lennon will be back soon.”

He nods before pulling me into a hug. “I’m really proud of you, Haylee. You’re handling this so well.” He pulls away, smiling a little even though he still looks worried. “Maybe Lennon was better for you than I thought. You seem… happier. Calmer, you know?”

I try to hang onto that as I go into my room. I have gotten stronger since this tour started. I didn’t fall apart today, as much as I wanted to. Even at the club, with the tequila right there, I didn’t completely lose it. I drank steadily, sure, but I didn’t go any further. And when James worried I’d had enough, I agreed with him and came home.

“You are stronger,” I whisper. “You’re not going to fall apart.”

But then my phone rings. My mother.

I shouldn’t answer it. I should turn it off, run after James, tell him room service sounds good after all. But a part of me, a stupid, naive part, thinks that maybe she can explain this all away. Maybe it isn’t as black and white as Louis said. Maybe there is another side to the story, a side that doesn’t include my mother being a horrible person.