They could, and I could even list a handful that had, off the top of my head. But the sense that I owed Ven, Coco, and Ethan a debt had always been strong. Could I really do this to them? Could I really take away the thing I knew they’d always wanted more than anything?
So I’d chewed on that for a few more days, bobbing between guilt and desperation. Because the alternative to leaving was, of course, staying. And the real question was, could I do that to myself? Could I live like this for the foreseeable future? Or would I break in a year, or two, or five, and drag them all down with me anyway? At least if I left of my own volition, they were still a unit. They could replace me.
The final analysis showed carnage either way. But if I left, I was hurting them, and if I stayed, I was hurting myself. And I’d just spent too damn long trying to please other people at the expense of what I wanted. I could see it now. I could see it and it didn’t lead anywhere good.
So I’d done it. For the first time since I dropped out of college, I’d done something that I needed and that I knew was going to let people down.
“When you left, I was so scared,” I said. “That I wouldn’t see you again, that I’d fucked everything up. But I knew it was the right thing. Coco and them…uh, they did not take it well.”
That was an understatement. I’d never forget the awful things Ven said. That I was a diva; that I was just doing this for attention and in a few months I’d come crawling back when I realized that my life was nothing without the band; that my songs weren’t even that good. I knew he was angry, disappointed, upset, and he probably didn’t mean half of them, but they still cut.
Coco wasn’t mean, but she was shocked and disappointed. She couldn’t understand how I’d choose to take a step backward when we’d gotten so far. Couldn’t understand how I would make this decision so quickly. I tried to explain that, for me, the feeling wasn’t sudden, but hearing that I’d been, as she put it, “miserable this whole time,” upset her.
Ethan was quiet and thoughtful, as he always was. But I could tell he was hurt. I think, after we’d started talking more, he’d thought I would’ve told him about it first. And maybe I should have. But I knew that if I didn’t walk in there with my speech prepared and my mind made up, it would’ve been a bloodbath. And I just wanted it to be over.
“It’s done, anyway,” I said. We ate in silence for a while. “Are you…any less scared now?”
Caleb raked his hands through his hair.
“I’m…getting there. I made a huge cake. Enormous. It’s at my house.”
“Okay?” I said slowly. I wanted to tease him about how he was crap at baking, citing the blueberry muffins he’d tried to make for breakfast one Saturday that had been better suited for shot put than for consumption, but he had a faraway expression that said he was trying to get at something.
“Um. Matt sent Rhys over with a bunch of snack food. Candy, cake mix, et cetera. And said that when you’re trying to avoid one thing you need to distract yourself with another.” His eyes slid to mine, and he cleared his throat. “It was…hard after we fought. You know? My fault, I know,” he said quickly, “but really hard.”
I nodded and squeezed his arm. It made my heart gallop to think of Caleb, alone at the farmhouse, craving an escape, struggling against it. It scared me to think how close he might have been. And it scared me to think I’d had any part in it.
“Anyway, after a couple of days, I made this damn cake. Two different boxes of cake mix, two tubs of frosting. Fucker’s huge. And kinda disgusting. Too sweet. You’d probably love it.”
I smiled, because I probably would.
“Point is, I was rampaging around the house like a damned wild dog, wringing my hands because I was such a shit to you, and I was terrified that if you didn’t have your career and you just had me, that it would be…not enough, you know? Then what would happen if I fucked up again?”
His voice was strained and I wanted to pull him to me, but I could tell he needed to get this out.
“What if I start using again and I ruin everything between us, and you don’t trust me anymore, don’t—” he shook his head violently. “Can’t love me anymore, and we’re just fucked.” Caleb choked on the word, and I pushed out of my chair and threw my legs over his thighs, pulling him to me. He steadied me at the hips, and held on. After a minute, his breathing evened.