Keep (Seaside Pictures 2)

“This is the part where I tell you, you should have come clean.”

I burst out laughing. It was ugly, not my usual laugh. It felt wrong. I didn’t laugh like that, not me. “So, open up my soul to the one girl capable of stealing it? Hand over my heart to the only one who can both keep and break it?”

Will’s eyes widened.

I frowned when he stood, grabbed my guitar, handed it to me, and walked out of the room.

My hands shook as I slowly started strumming a few different chords and paired them with the words I’d just said to my agent.

It wasn’t a ballad.

It wasn’t a love song.

It was ugly.

It was truth.

Some of the prettiest songs are lies—the real ones, never get Grammys, never hit the Billboard number one spot, because they cause too much self-reflection.

And nobody wants to admit to the ugly.

Nobody.

But I did.

I’d admit it.

I’d confess how dark my past was, I’d confess how she brought me into a light I didn’t see possible, how the pleasure with her went beyond anything I’d ever experienced—surpassing my wildest imaginations.

The first verse would be the pain.

The second verse would be the cure.

The third would be the repercussions of trusting in imperfection to make you feel whole.

Because that’s what life was about.

Trusting the wrong things—in order to lead you down the path to the right things.

My head still throbbed, but as my hands plucked the strings, as I wrote down different lyrics.

I felt a bit freer.

A bit happier.

Even if my heart was still breaking.

Because I’d given her everything—right?

“Hey,” Jay’s voice interrupted the last chorus as he knocked on the already open door then let himself in. “Any reason the nurses outside are all sobbing like you just had a puppy sacrifice in this room? Because I can come back if this is a bad time.”

“Puppy sacrifice.” I grinned. “There’s a thought. Think we can roast mallows?”

“Too far.” Jay grimaced.

“Says the one with a wild enough imagination to come up with heathen sacrifices of small dogs.”

He grinned and took a seat. “So, not dead yet?”

“Not yet.”

“I yelled at her,” he confessed. “I told her she couldn’t visit you.”

My heart didn’t know how to take that. I think in that moment it was so confused and upset that it simply just went to sleep for a bit, its slow rhythm reminding me that blood was still pumping, but that a part of it, wasn’t so sure it wanted to keep up the charade.

“What did she say?” I whispered.

“She tried to hit me, sobbed her eyes out, kept saying it wasn’t her, nearly collapsed against Demetri, then charged me again. Then he tossed her over his shoulder and carried her into his waiting Mercedes where she’s been ever since.”

“In his car?” I asked confused. “Why?”

“She refused to get out until she could see you.”

I smiled at that.

“Sobbing either means she’s not guilty or a good actress,” Jaymeson said in a soft voice. “I don’t know what to believe. I don’t know her well enough, but this isn’t the time for broken hearts, not when your brain needs all the help it can get.”

“I didn’t tell her.”

“No,” he said in a dry tone. “Really? Shocked.”

“It would have freaked her out.”

“It freaks me out.” He scooted his chair closer. “Do you even realize how hard it’s been? Keeping this secret? Like you’re here for vacation when I know my house is the last house you may live in before surgery? That each moment you and I hang out, you could drop dead, do you think I enjoyed watching you hole up in the darkness every single day letting the anxiety get worse and worse? Shit, man, seriously?”

“I’m sorry.” I put my guitar down on the bed and cursed for a few minutes before regaining my composure. “When I called, I just needed to escape, the album wasn’t coming along like I needed. I didn’t sleep because I was afraid I wouldn’t wake up. The anxiety was hell, probably because it was getting snowballed by the whole impending death thing….”

Jaymeson sighed and reached down for the bag of marshmallows.

“What are you doing?” I frowned.

“Trying to de-stress…Zane style.” Jay popped two in his mouth and chewed. “It’s not working.”

“Let her in.”

“What?” A piece of half-eaten marshmallow tumbled out of his mouth. “She could be a lying treacherous bitch, and you want to let her in? On potentially the last night before brain surgery? Are you insane?”

I sighed. “Maybe. I don’t know. I just…I need to hear it from her. I need to see her say it wasn’t her, see her face you know? If it was her, I’ll know.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes.” No. I just…I’d come to rely on my friend, on my other person, the one who promised to keep me no matter what the circumstances.

But more than that, her arms were my security, her words a blanket.

Which meant I needed to end things.

What was done was done.

It wasn’t fair to her—to kiss her today—to fail her tomorrow.

To take everything.

To give all.