The Resistance(65)

I go after him as Danny calls, “He’s drunk, Holli. Talk to him when he’s sober.”

Ignoring Danny’s advice, I don’t stop until I reach Dalton. He turns, and with a nod of his head, Dalton says, “Go back to your boyfriend.”

“Dalton, listen to me.”

He lights a cigarette while glaring at me.

“He’s just—” I start but he interrupts.

“He’s what, Holliday? Who the fuck is he to you?” When I don’t respond quick enough, he says, “This is why I don’t do fucking relationships.”

The ash glows bright orange and he walks away, leaving me in a trail of smoke and haze. I stand there watching as he gets in the car and revs the engine. After one glance back, he peels out, the rubber squealing loudly against the pavement. I remain there until I can no longer see the tail-lights. When I turn, Danny is still on the stoop, waiting for me.

I pull my key from my pocket and walk back, feeling dizzy from all the crazy and embarrassed in front of Danny.

“Was that Johnny Outlaw?” he asks just as I approach.

With a heavy sigh, I say, “Yes, that was Johnny Outlaw.” Not Jack Dalton. I walk past Danny and unlock the front door. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Are you okay?”

“No.” I push the door open and step up. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“If you need to talk…”

“Thanks.” Just before shutting the door, I say, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

I hurry upstairs and change into my pajamas. When I climb into bed, I lay in the dark somewhere between angry and hurt. I’m still shocked by how we went from happy earlier today to Dalton accusing me of cheating tonight. I know how it must have looked. What he said to me… I realize him thinking I would cheat hurts deeper than his words. I roll over and snuggle my pillow closer—the one he uses—wanting to cry. But as his words repeat in my head, the anger comes back. I close my eyes and try to sleep, trying to forget this happened.

My phone rings, startling me awake. I grab it from the mattress beside me and see his name.

“Dalton?”

His words are slurred, his voice deep. He only says three words. But those three words are all it takes for me to forget everything that happened earlier. “I need you.”





“Sometimes the ones who are the closest cause the most pain.” ~Johnny Outlaw





Dex’s house is everything I expect a famous, single drummer’s house to be like. Smoke fills the air, women are everywhere, and my stomach is tied up in knots, wondering what I’ve walked into.

Rochelle was not happy about me calling at two-thirty in the morning, but when I explained the situation, she asked Cory where Dalton was. After finding the house, here I am. I never realized how low-key our relationship has been until I start looking around this party. Dalton and I spend time with each other, hidden away from the rest of the world for the most part. This house, this party, and seeing Dex on the couch smoking from a bong with girls hanging on him is a harsh reality check. Dalton has managed to keep me away from this side of his lifestyle and I’m starting to think it was on purpose.

Waving my hand in front of my face to clear the smoke, I walk through the living room and into the kitchen, searching for him. I see a man in the dining room chatting to a woman. I continue outside to the large deck that seems made for parties like this and look toward the hot tub. I’m relieved Dalton’s not in it. Some other guy with a gaggle of girls is though. When I return to the living room, someone puts their arm around my shoulders. “Where you been hiding?” he slurs as I spin out from under him, putting distance between us.

“I’m looking for someone,” I reply to discourage him.

“Aren’t we all? I can be your someone tonight.”

Shaking my head, I say, “I’m looking for my boyfriend.”

“If you don’t find him, come find me.” He’s easily distracted by another woman walking by and follows her. I hear him say to her, “Where you been hiding?”

That makes me laugh. What wipes the smile off my face is seeing all the drugs—white powder on the coffee table, the bong next to it, joints being passed as well as little bags of pills everybody’s so interested in.

My heart starts racing, worried what I might find if I find Dalton at all. I grab the railing of the stairs, steadying myself as I walk up. I hear laughter in one room I pass on the second floor and a guitar being played up ahead. I follow the sound, the music familiar from times we spent alone and he played for me. I walk under a large archway and into a room painted deep red where he sits, the center of everyone’s attention. I stay back, not hiding, but not making a show of my arrival.