I suddenly forgot everything I was going to say.
And I had no idea why.
I was better than this.
I was an agent for God’s sake. I knew the words, I was older than her, more mature, I had everything.
And yet, when faced with the girl who had nothing left to lose, I had nothing left to give that would repair what broke between us.
“It’s never one thing, Ang.”
She blinked up at me. “And I’m the one on drugs.”
I smirked. “I missed that smart-ass side of you.”
“Yeah well I was told to be on my best behavior by my agent so I’ve been keeping all asses hidden.” She cringed. “Sort of. Never mind.”
“Right, since everyone saw your ass yesterday.”
“And lucky you, twice today.” She teased.
“Yeah, lucky me.” My tone turned serious.
She swallowed and looked down at her hands on her lap as they twisted around the drawstring of my sweats. “What’s never one thing?”
“I think—” I sighed. Shit, how did I even say this? How did I even begin to make sense of us, of our past? “Hell, I don’t know, I guess I just wanted you to know that it wasn’t… between us…” I stood and started pacing. She still wasn’t looking at me. “It’s not one thing, Ang. It’s a compilation of tiny little things. I think when you look at a relationship you always try to find where the hell things went wrong, and you always try to pinpoint one situation and say okay that, that was a mistake, that’s what killed this, that’s what went wrong. But with us, it wasn’t like that. It was a million tiny little unforgiveable things that led up to one big thing that shattered whatever thin ice we’d already been slowly destroying. Does that make sense?”
Her head lifted. “A thousand shitty mistakes, are still mistakes, Will. No matter how big or small, they add up, and they break just as hard as one giant elephant getting dropped on thin ice.”
I jerked back. “Yeah, exactly.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Excuse me?” Not what I was expecting. I was trying, trying to help her make sense of things.
She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”
“Ang—”
She stood and started walking toward her room. I tried following her, but even though there wasn’t a door to her room, I could still feel the mental walls go up, the door slam in my face.
There was probably a bigger door than I could ever find blocking me, and the chasm between us widened yet again, and I had no idea why.
I mentally kicked the door, banged with my fists, then rested my head against it in absolute confusion. What the hell had I said wrong now?
I hated to do it.
Loathed myself as I slid my phone out of my pocket and sent a quick text to the only guy I knew who wouldn’t mock me for asking for advice.
Me: You up?
Zane: You know I’m a night owl, writing some music, sent Fallon to bed an hour ago. You’ve got a busy day, something or someone… on your mind?
Me: Very funny.
Zane: Hey man, you eat yet?
Me: I’m suddenly sorry I texted you instead of Linc.
Zane: Can’t talk to the brother about the sister. Not how these things work if you don’t want him punching your pretty face again.
Me: Was that a compliment?
Zane didn’t reply for a few minutes, so I went into my room and got ready for bed, only to have my phone buzz on the nightstand.
Zane: Sorry, Fallon wanted to make sure I wasn’t doing midnight ordering of marshmallows again, last time I ordered a crate instead of a bag, it was our first real fight.
Me: I call bullshit.
Zane: Fine we fight all the time, but we always make up and she’s always right. I learned the hard way with that one.
I rolled my eyes, Fallon couldn’t be more perfect for him, from her perpetual enthusiasm and love to the way she actually got him — it was disgusting, yup, disgusting. My heart clenched.
Me: Can I ask you something?
Zane: Now we get to the point. Always, you’re my family.
I smiled down at the phone, I’d always thought of him as more of a brother than most. It made me feel good that he returned the feeling even though I wanted to kick his ass half the time for wearing no clothes on stage. Zane had hit it big right when my career switched and I retired. It was the perfect fit. He’d opened up for us once, and I actually liked the guy. He didn’t drink or do drugs, and only gave off the impression that he lived the rock star life style. I’d helped form his image so he could keep his secrets, and he knew I’d take all of them to the grave.
Me: How did you get rid of your anxiety? Really get rid of it, I know you still struggle, I see the marshmallow trails, but how did you get out of that funk?