Page 7 of Combust (Everyday Heroes 2)
“You can write the lyrics without him, then?”
She nods as she chews. “Each song is a different process. Sometimes, it’s the lyrics first and then the music, sometimes it’s the music and then the lyrics . . . other times it’s side by side, verse by verse. I’m hoping we can avoid that last one this time around. The less I see of him, the better.”
“Why?” I ask, prompting her to look at me as if I’ve grown two heads. “You’re either running from him because you’re pissed and never want to see him again, or you’ve taken off because if you stay, you know he’ll wear you down, get you to forgive him, and then start your relationship song and dance all over again.”
She glares at me for a beat. That’s all it takes. “Maybe I just want to check the box for all of the above.”
“Understandable. There’s no judgment on my part for whatever box you check. Hell, maybe you can write a song about a jerk musician who cheats on his girlfriend and then falls off the face of the earth. That might let him know where he stands with you.”
“Such an active imagination.”
“Funny. Mallory said the same thing last night.” C’mon. Turn those lips up. “And she finally smiles . . .”
Her eyes soften, her smile widens, and she shakes her head before eating the last forkful of pancake.
Mission accomplished.
“I feel like such a prick. The one time you really need me, and I turn you away.” My brother’s voice warms me with his sincerity and makes me snuggle deeper into my spot on the couch.
“You didn’t turn me away. You have twin baby girls in a two-bedroom house. I think you have your hands full as it is. Besides, this is more than fine. I needed somewhere to crash long enough to give me a breather, get my work done, and clear my head before I head back and figure shit out. If I were at your house, I’d probably be so distracted playing auntie that I’d never work.”
“I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, but I still feel helpless. I’m your big brother. Between you taking the burden with Mom—”
“You have the twins. The last thing you need to be thinking about is Mom and—”
“And now this with Jett—”
“I’ll be fine, Damon.”
“I still feel like I should be doing something. More. I don’t know.”
“You did do something. More,” I repeat with humor in my voice to try and put him at ease that I’ll be okay. That it will all be okay. “You found me exactly what I needed. A place to stay where I could tuck my tail between my legs and lick my wounds for a bit.”
“Yeah, but it’s four hours away from me here in Lake Tahoe.” His guilt tinges the edges of his tone.
“And I’m normally nine hours away from you when I’m in Los Angeles . . . so think of it as me moving closer for a bit,” I tease. “Look, Damon, I appreciate all your help. I was upset, in a hurry to leave, and you helped me out by thinking of somewhere I could go and get my head—and heart—straightened out without living in a hotel for months on end. I’m thinking of it as a personal Airbnb.”
“With a firefighter.” And there it is. The one thing he neglected to mention when he called and told me about the old friend he had who lived away from my beaten path. Said friend also happened to have an extra room, an abundance of quiet at his house, and would leave me be so I could work.
A firefighter. Faded memories of our dad flicker through my mind. Ones I’d rather forget. Ones that have left me always waiting for the man I’m with to walk out the door one day and never come back, because his love for his job, his friends, his freedom, his whatever-the-hell excuse is more important than his family.
“It’s fine, Damon. I’m okay with it.” Except for every time the damn scanner goes off I’m left thinking of our mother. How she left the thing on for months after he left us, hoping to hear his voice . . . making her feel close to him even though he didn’t want anything to do with us. And then how in the absence of the scanner came the alcohol. “I am. I promise.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
“Believe me.” My smile pulls tight even though he can’t see it.
“How are you holding up otherwise? I mean, it all happened so fast, it has to be hard.”
“It sucks. It stings . . . but that’s Jett.” And I wish everyone would stop asking that because it does more than suck. It’s a dagger in the heart.
“Don’t I know it.”
“Look, I don’t need you to start in on me about him.”
“I was right, wasn’t I?” And that’s why I didn’t want to stay with him even if he had the extra room.
“You aren’t making me feel any better. It’s my heart that was hurt, so at this point, does it matter if you were right or not?”
