Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

TRISTAN

We rolled into Texas the next day. I'd finally dozed off close to morning after tossing and turning for most of our ride here. Last night in Louisiana had been one of the worst of the tour. Not only did my performance suck-that was the least of my problems-I couldn't stop thinking about how I'd fucked everything up with Emily.

Atticus sauntered into my bedroom. "It's almost noon. Rise and shine. It's time we had a talk, man." He sat at the edge of my bed.

The last thing I needed was his shit on top of everything else. "What is it?" I snapped.

"You've been different these past couple of weeks. I'm not talking about your voice, either. I'm talking about whatever the fuck you have going on with that girl. It's like your body is here, but your head isn't."

" That girl has a name."

"I shouldn't have to tell you that getting involved with her is a bad idea. Those reasons are obvious, but when it starts to affect your music..."

"The only thing affecting my music right now is my voice issue, which I only have so much control over. And whatever was going on with Emily I'm pretty sure is over now. Alright? So you don't need to worry about it. You also don't need to tell me why it was a bad idea to get involved with someone on this tour, or why it was a bad idea to develop feelings for someone who's practically half my age. I get it. But sometimes we can't help how we feel. Although, not sure why I expect you to understand that."

He narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm not heartless, you know. I'm just a realist."

"A realist who cheats on his girlfriend."

"Whoa. First off, she's not my girlfriend. And I'm not a cheater. Riley and I have an understanding. She knows I'm not interested in monogamy. It's an open relationship. That's very different than cheating."

"Don't you ever get sick of this lifestyle?"

"Sometimes. But the only woman I've ever loved is gone. I never needed anyone or anything else when I was with Nicole."

It was rare that Atticus brought up his ex-wife. There was an unspoken rule among us that Nicole's name was not to be mentioned, especially while on tour. It was the one thing that affected his performances. He bounced his legs. "Anyway, I guess I just don't give a fuck anymore. I might as well try to have fun and take advantage before I'm old as fuck like you."

"Go to hell." I laughed.

Atticus and Ronan would take any opportunity to remind me I was five years older.

"Seriously, though…" he said. "What happened with Emily?"

"Oh, now you know her name?"

"Yeah, I know the name of the person who's gotten into my lead singer's head and who's threatening to fuck up the rest of this tour for us."

"For the last time, she has nothing to do with my voice problems. Stop insinuating that."

"She does have everything to do with you alienating yourself from us lately. The night you took off? Canceled the show? That was a first."

"I just needed a break. God forbid I take one-"

"You haven't answered my question. What happened with her?"

"Fuck if I know," I said, looking over at the wall and wishing I could punch it. "She says she doesn't think it's a good idea to continue whatever it is we started. I really like her. I've had no desire to be with anyone else since the tour began. That's a first for me. But none of that matters if she's scared."

He lowered his voice. "You fucked her?"

"No. We messed around, though, and I took things too far." I looked out the window at her bus.

Atticus snapped his fingers in front of my face. "When was the last time you felt this way about someone?"

"Not since I was sixteen."

He nodded. "Cheyenne..."

"How the hell did you remember her name?"

"Because I never forgot that conversation we had when we first met. You got drunk and told me all about her. You were pretty broken up over it."

"Wow. I don't remember that."

"Well, yeah. You were drunk." He chuckled. "Whatever became of her?"

"I have no idea."

"You never tried to look her up?"

"No." I shook my head. "For a while, I didn't want to know, but now it doesn't matter. So much time has passed. But the closest I've ever come to feeling something for someone like that has been with Emily. Being on this rollercoaster of a career has numbed my feelings for a long time. It's hard to meet the right people when you're surrounded by mostly the wrong people. It's rare to meet someone you connect with. And when you do? You remember what it feels like to be human again."

"Why are you so sure it's over between you and her?"

"She made it clear she doesn't want to pursue anything further. The reason isn't as clear. But it doesn't matter. I need to back off. And today is day one of that. So you don't need to worry about me getting in over my head anymore." I sighed, hardly trusting my own assurances. "Now, what you do need to worry about is my fucking voice. I won't get to see the doctor until we're in L.A. I'm gonna need to go quiet again today."

"All I can do is pray, man. I don't have the right answers, nor do I understand all of the medical articles Ronan has been sending me."

"He has?"

He nodded. "Dude's been researching all these ways to help you. But it's kind of hard to make herbal tinctures on tour." He laughed. "I told him he needs to stick his tincture up his sphincter."

I let out a guttural laugh. "You gotta love that guy for trying. More than you do for me, asshole."

"Ronan's a better man. That's for sure. All I've been doing is complaining." He came over to pat me on the back. "Anyway, I'm glad we had this talk, even if it started with me chastising you."

"That's how all our talks start, don't they?"

His face showed a rare sincerity. "I know I can be rigid sometimes. But I don't want you to think I don't care about your happiness. If some girl makes you happy, makes you remember who you are and all that shit, more power to you-as long as you don't lose all the other parts of you in the process. You've worked too hard to lose your damn mind, you know?"

"Too late for that, man." I chuckled.

"You wanna head out for a smoke?"

I shook my head. "Nah. I slipped yesterday and had one, but I'm trying to be good."

"Well, good on you, then." Atticus gave me the finger before he left.

Once again alone with my thoughts, I specifically stopped myself from texting Emily. I didn't want to be that guy who couldn't take a hint when someone needed space. It didn't matter how much I wanted to see her, how much she calmed me. I needed to do what was best for her -and that was listening to what she'd told me she wanted.

I needed to get everything off my chest, though. If I wasn't going to call her, writing a letter would be my way of communicating. Texting seemed too informal for this, and I didn't want her to feel like she needed to respond. Writing a letter would make it impossible to cross the line or do anything stupid. Stephen could deliver it for me. I would say what I needed to say, then focus on getting my head back into the tour. Maybe I could put this damn angst to good use and write some fucking music again. Now, there was an idea…

Grabbing a notepad and paper, I tried not to overthink it.

Dear Emily,

You're probably wondering why the hell I'm writing you this letter when I could just walk across the lot and talk to you. But you clearly want space. Even if I don't understand your apprehension about me, I need to respect it. I'm not the kind of guy who pushes himself on someone who wants to be left alone. I can take a damn hint. In the spirit of respecting your privacy, I'm writing this letter instead of coming to see you. I want to reiterate that I only want what's best for you. And I might even agree that what's best for you is distancing yourself from me.

At the same time, we will inevitably run into each other. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable in those moments. But I won't instigate extra time with you beyond a professional, friendly relationship. No more ridiculous delivery requests; although, I'm gonna miss those.

You know how much I respect you. I could say a lot more about my feelings, but I don't want to make this harder than it already is. Just know that spending time with you has been the best. Even if it was temporary, I appreciated every second of it.

No hard feelings, okay? I'll always be here if you need me.

xo Tristan

I expelled some air and looked down at the words I'd written. This sucked, but I needed closure if I had any chance in hell of concentrating on my performances again. After folding the letter, I realized I didn't have a damn envelope. I couldn't just hand Stephen an unsealed letter. The irony wasn't lost on me that the person who would be tasked with running out to buy me damn envelopes would be Emily. So, I decided the best course of action would be to grow some balls, walk my ass down to her bus, and deliver the letter myself. I wouldn't stay. I'd just hand it to her and leave. Any extra time with her would defeat the purpose of writing down what I wanted to say.

I grabbed a hat, and just as I stepped off the bus, Stephen approached. He was holding…an envelope? What the heck? Had he read my freaking mind?

I looked down at it. "What's that?"

"It's a letter for you…from Emily."

What the fuck? "She gave it to you?"

"Before she left, she asked that I get it to you."

"Left?" My heart began to race. "What are you talking about?"

"Emily left the tour this morning."

***

I'd never paced so much in my life.

Twenty minutes had passed, and I still hadn't read her letter.

I'd done this. I'd caused her to leave. I'd taken it too far and hadn't gotten my letter to her fast enough. If I'd just called her sooner, she wouldn't have felt like she had to leave. She lost her freaking job because of me. Jesus Christ. What have I done?

I couldn't get myself to open it. I didn't want confirmation that it was my fault, that I'd scared her away by not controlling my carnal desires.

After several minutes of pacing, I finally grew some balls and opened it.

Dear Tristan,

Please forgive me for doing this. I should've had the courage to come say a proper goodbye. But I knew if I looked in your eyes, I wouldn't have the guts to leave.

By now, you know that I've decided to quit the tour. I can't stress enough that my reasons have nothing to do with anything you did or said. Or anything we did together. Trust me when I say that any conclusions you are drawing right now are not the right ones. I've led you to believe you know everything about me, but that's unfortunately not true. I have a very personal reason for needing to leave right now. And I never should've come here to begin with.

I owe you an explanation. A huge one. I promise you will see me again someday, and I will properly explain things when the time is right. But that time is not now. And so, it's not fair that I allow you to get closer to me when I haven't been completely honest.

I realize that I am being cryptic. But I need to take a step back-for myself and also for you. You need to focus on the tour right now, focus on regaining the strength of your voice. My being here was distracting. It was also not the right way to solve my own problem. I'd thought working on the tour would be an escape, a good experience, but I hadn't anticipated our connection, that I could fall for you in the process. Tristan, you make me feel like the most special person on Earth. I only wish I deserved it.

Promise me you won't overanalyze this. Promise me you'll forget about me for now and focus on healing yourself and getting back to music. I don't want to be responsible for derailing anything. But when the tour is over and you're feeling better, come find me. I'll explain more then.

My address is 83 Cherry Lane, Henderson, Nevada.

Until we see each other again,

Emily

What. The. Fuck?

That wasn't what I expected. I was more confused than ever.

I sat with my head in my hands. I was clearly wrong about what the hell had been going on with her. This was more than her just being scared of me. And while that brought me some relief, it also made me realize Emily was more complicated than I'd ever imagined. Despite her absence, she'd continue to haunt me, but she was right. I was currently on a train I couldn't get off of, and as curious as I was to understand everything about Emily, I had no choice but to get through this tour. I owed it to the guys. And to myself, I supposed. It was time to get my shit together.

I knew for certain that I wouldn't be able to wait until the European leg was over to see her. So after the US tour ended, I'd go to Nevada. I'd have a few weeks off before going overseas. Until then, I needed to not let this consume me.

Later that afternoon, the strangest thing happened. Lyrics came pouring out of me, after weeks of struggling with my writing. As much as Emily had distracted me from my work while she was here, she was inspiring me now. It was her. It had to be. As I wrote about beautiful eyes masking despair, falling for a woman you didn't know but your soul did, I only hoped she was okay. She'd left a huge mark on me, and this creativity was proof of it. The heaviness in my chest was proof, too.

The music I wrote now might never see the light of day, but Emily was somehow healing me, even if she wasn't here.