Keep (Seaside Pictures 2)

It was hard to process or even explain the openness with which she treated me, like I wasn’t a freak, like there wasn’t something wrong with me because of my past.

Grandma would have loved her.

I sighed and strummed a few chords then a few more as the roar of the waves crashed in the distance when a knock sounded at the door. I quickly grabbed a sheet and wrapped it around my body before I cracked it open and peeked out.

Will stared at me, then at the sheet, then back at me, his grin widening the more his brain cells added two and two together. “You smell like a girl.”

“It’s five in the morning.”

“You used to wake up at three.” His eyes narrowed as he crossed his bulky arms across his chest and smirked. “So…” He rocked back on his heels. “How was it?”

“Oh, God.” I groaned. “This is hell, isn’t it? Where I have the best night of my life and then get questioned by the only father figure I have!”

“Screw you. I’m thirty!” His eyes widened.

“Oh sorry, dirty uncle then? How does that work?”

He flipped me off.

I barricaded my arms against the door and shook my head. “No, not a chance in hell, what do you need?”

His green eyes narrowed behind thick black-rimmed glasses that I still wasn’t sure if he actually needed or just wore, so it made him look more intelligent. “It’s not like I want to see your girl naked, I’m just curious. Is this the one that broke you? And had you walking around like a zombie for the past week mumbling under your breath and refusing to do anything except for glue your ass to the piano bench and go through ten pounds of marshmallows? That girl?”

I didn’t answer.

He cursed under his breath. “Great, just great. Look, I’m not trying to be a jackass, but you were in a pretty dark place before her and the music, it was good, not great, and now it’s…effortless.”

I looked down at the plush carpet.

“It’s pure gold. Even when she hurt you, it was pure gold. If you lose her, if something happens…what happens to your music then? Is that when the great Zane Andrews finally cracks? Is she the catalyst that sends you over the age? I mean, do you even realize how fragile you are?”

“Goodbye, Will.” I tried to slam the door in his face but his hand wrapped around the edge, and I might be a bastard, but I didn’t want to break every bone in his playing hand.

“Zane.” His worried expression wasn’t helping the tightening in my stomach or the anxiety that continued to wrap itself around it. “I’m saying this because I care. Look, you’ve found your muse, awesome, fantastic, but what happens when you start touring again? What happens when she finds out the truth?”

My blood ran cold. “The truth.”

“When was the last time you even had a checkup? Your doctor called and said you missed your last two appointments. The team’s concerned.”

“Concerned.” I repeated, like that was all I could actually do in that moment. “About what? Not getting paid? Look, I’m fine, my last check up was completely normal, no weird tumors, no passing out anymore.” I jumped up and down.

“You could have been brain dead from the accident, Zane. As it is, the concussion was so bad your brain was bleeding, you asked if I was a chicken. We monitor you because if we don’t, you could die. You get that right? Death.”

“Will.” Anger raged through my veins, anger at him, myself, the situation, the reminder that it wasn’t just about my album but being able to finish it before I went under the knife for the aneurysm doctors were almost ninety-eight percent sure was one of the dangerous ones, the ones that like to pop. “I’ll be fine. The album’s almost done. I feel the best I have in years.”

“Because of her,” Will said in a flat tone. “So don’t screw it up just because you omit in order to protect her. If you’re all in, you’re all in, that’s how these things work. I would hate to lose you, Zane, and I’m going to guess, so would she. Either figure your shit out and go all in, set all the cards on the table, or let her go.”

The door shut quietly.

I stared at it.

Outraged.

Afraid.

And then outraged all over again.

The stupid thing was—doctors would have never discovered the slight tear in my brain had I not fallen off the stage and had my little breakdown.

One test turned into twenty.

And they all showed the same thing.

An area of my brain was compromised, and it was just a matter of time before a tiny little particle smaller than the pin of a needle, released itself and tried to kill me.

Technology though—had a way of zapping it, but timing wise, I had to finish the album first—I had to finish it, because if I didn’t wake up, if something happened…

I wanted to have the music done, so maybe if I was a vegetable, maybe then I would still remember what it was like.

To have music.

And now.

To have her.

Because she was in every single song.

Chapter Thirty

Fallon

THE SUN BURST THROUGH the window casting a warm light across my bare arms. I slowly stretched my sore body and rubbed my eyes.

Memories of the night before assaulted me over and over again causing a slow burn to start from my toes and spread all the way to my face.

The things he said.

The things we did.

The way he touched me.