Chapter Seven

Jace

I n the morning, they had breakfast in the hotel café, then drove to the club to practice. The tension between Nico and Jace hung heavily in the air, making everyone at the meal unusually quiet.

Jace rubbed his temples, trying to ease the throbbing headache that had been plaguing him since the early hours of the morning. He knew he had to push through it; Sacred Fire had a practice session at the club in Bakersfield, and he couldn’t let his bandmates down. As he walked into the dimly lit club, the familiar scent of stale beer and old wood greeted him. His guitar slung over his shoulder, he made his way to the small stage where Nico was already setting up his drums, Mark was tuning his guitar, and Sammie was adjusting the keyboard.

The club was unusually crowded for a practice session. A group of Jace’s high school friends had dropped by, filling the room with chatter and laughter. Jace forced a smile and waved at them, but his mind was elsewhere. He could feel Nico’s stony gaze on him, a reminder of the previous night’s mistakes. Jace had left the room to party, and Nico was clearly not over it.

As they started their first song, Jace’s headache intensified with every beat of the drums. Nico’s drumming was precise, almost mechanical, lacking the usual energy that made their music come alive. Jace tried to catch Nico’s eye, but Nico was resolutely focused on his drums, ignoring Jace’s attempts at connection. A suffocating tension hung in the air, and Jace couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt.

During a break between songs, Jace took a deep breath and approached Nico. “Hey, can we talk for a second?” he asked.

Nico didn’t look up. “What’s there to talk about, Jace? You made your choice last night.”

Jace’s heart sank. “I know, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left like that. I just…I needed a break.”

Nico finally met his gaze, his eyes hard. “A break? From what? From us? From the band?”

Jace shook his head. “No, it’s not like that. These guys are my friends from high school. I just messed up, okay? Can we move past it?”

Nico’s silence was deafening. After what felt like an eternity, he sighed, “Let’s just get through this practice.”

As Nico turned back to his gleaming drum set, Jace felt a sudden disconnect from the man he wanted. He could hear the rhythmic beats reverberating through the room, the cymbals crashing like waves against the shore. The sight of Nico’s skilled hands swiftly moving across the drums evoked a sense of admiration. The air was filled with the musky scent of sweat and his cologne. Jace’s heart ached as he yearned to join Nico, to feel the exhilaration of creating music together.

The rest of the session was a blur of strained notes and awkward silences. Jace’s friends cheered and clapped, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension on stage. When they finally wrapped up, Jace felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. The headache was still there, a dull reminder of the day’s struggles.

As they packed up their instruments, Jace tried one last time. “Nico, I’m really sorry. Can we talk later?

Nico gave a curt nod. “We’ll see.”

“Hey, Jace! Got time for lunch?” Laura asked.

“Can’t. I have to get some sleep for tonight. Sorry.”

“When will we be able to go out alone?” Laura asked.

“I’m not on vacation. I’m working, but when we get some time off, I’m coming back to spend more time.” He looked over at Nico, who rolled his eyes.

With that, they all left the club. Jace hoped things would be better. They stopped for fast food, then took it to the room. Jace wanted to sleep instead of eating. He devoured his lunch and went to bed. Mark and Sammie sat in their cozy bed, their hushed whispers and the tapping of their fingers on their iPads filling the room. Nico finished his lunch and sat beside Jace.

“Hey, Jace. Are you okay?” Nico asked.

“No. I don’t like when you ignore me.” The other two stopped talking and watched them.

“You want my attention and approval every fucking minute. You acted like an asshole last night. You couldn’t even take your clothes off. You reeked of alcohol.”

Jace got up from the bed, put on his shoes and turned to Nico, “Fuck you, Nico!” He left the room.

Jace stormed out of the hotel, his anger at Nico boiling over. He needed space, a moment to clear his head. The coffee shop down the street seemed like a good place to escape. He ordered a black coffee and sat by the window, staring out at the bustling streets of Bakersfield.

As he sipped his coffee, the door chimed, and in walked his father. Jace’s heart sank. His stern face was the last thing he needed to see right now. His father marched over and stood at Jace’s table. “Leave Bakersfield,” he demanded, his voice cold and unyielding. “You’re a disgrace to this family. You’re on your way to hell.”

Jace’s grip tightened around his coffee cup. “I’m not going anywhere. This is my life, not yours.”

His father’s eyes narrowed. “Your life? Look at you. You’re a failure. Everything you touch turns to ash.”

“That’s not true,” Jace shot back, his voice rising. “I’m doing my best. You never see that, do you?”

“Your best is pathetic,” his father sneered. “You were a mistake. I wish you were never born.”

The words hit Jace like a physical blow. He stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, but I do,” his father said, his voice dripping with venom. “You’re nothing but a burden.”

Before Jace could react, his father’s fist connected with his jaw, sending him stumbling back. The entire coffee shop fell silent, all eyes on the unfolding drama.

The manager rushed over, stepping between them. “Sir, you need to leave now,” he said firmly to Jace’s father. “Or I’ll call the police.”

His father glared at the manager but turned and stormed out of the shop. The manager turned to Jace. “Are you okay?”

Jace nodded numbly. Inside he felt shattered. The words, the punch, the public humiliation—it was too much. He felt destroyed, unloved, and utterly alone. He mumbled a thank you to the manager and left the coffee shop, his mind a whirlwind of pain and confusion.

He wandered aimlessly until he found himself at a bar. He needed something stronger than coffee to numb the ache in his chest. As he ordered a drink, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being what his father had called him, unwanted, a burden. The bar’s dim lighting and the hum of conversation did nothing to lift the heavy weight of his father’s words from his heart.