Nova and Quinton: No Regrets

Chapter 10

December 23, day fifty-five in the real world

Nova

Quinton freaked me out yesterday, but I think I did well hiding it and calming him down. At least I hope so. But part of me can’t help but wonder if he’ll end up doing drugs again. I can’t stop obsessing over it and all I want to do is go to Seattle and see him—make sure everything is going okay.

On top of everything else, Tristan’s freaking me out too. He keeps giving me these come-hither looks from across the room, and while I was taking a shower this afternoon, he walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth. This is not good at all. I can see it leading to a very bad place where everything is going to crumble. I need to find a way to talk about it with him, tell him how I feel, but I’m worried about how he’s going to react.

“Oh, Nova Dova,” Lea singsongs as she comes skipping into my room with a grin on her face. “Are you ready to rock and roll?”

She’s dressed up in a torn shirt, cutoffs, fishnet tights, and boots. Her hair’s been teased and her eyes lined with liquid liner. My outfit’s a little mellower: black plaid skirt, a tank top with a vest over it, and minimal eye shadow, but I did stain my lips red.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” I say with zero enthusiasm as I get up from my bed. Not only am I unenthused to play tonight, I’m also not thrilled to be meeting Lea’s boyfriend, either. I’ve been a downer lately and I can tell Lea is picking up on this, although she thinks it has something to do with the band.

She puts her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes at me. “Hey, cheer up. Everything’s going to be fine. You’re going to rock tonight.”

“Rocking is the least of my problems,” I tell her, grabbing my leather jacket from my bedpost. “I’m worried the wrong person’s going to see me and then I’m going to get kicked out of my band.”

“How would anyone see you?” she asks, lowering her hands to her sides. “Aren’t Sterling and Jaxon in New York right now?”

“Yeah, but Nikko’s not.” I put my jacket on and flip my hair out of the collar. “Plus, we have to go pick up my drums from Jaxon’s house, which is going to come off a little bit suspicious.”

“No it won’t,” she says, backing toward the doorway of my room and spinning around on her heels. “Just tell them you’re bringing your drums home to practice over the weekend. You’ve done that before.”

I follow her into the living room. There’s a candle burning, a soothing lavender scent, but it does nothing to settle the restlessness inside me. “Yeah, before the Millersons from the apartment below complained about the noise.”

“So what?” she says, leaning over and blowing out the candle. “Jaxon, Spalding, and Nikko don’t need to know that.”

“We’ll see.” I button up my coat and head for the front door, ready to get the night over with. It’s probably the first time I haven’t been excited to play and I’m not sure if it’s because I feel like I’m cheating on my band or because my head’s in another place. “I just hope this all doesn’t blow up in my face.”

She picks up the car keys and tosses them to me. “It won’t. I promise.”

Sighing, I open the front door to head outside. But Tristan walks out of his bedroom and I pause as he picks up his jacket like he’s about to go somewhere.

He’s dressed in a plaid shirt and nice jeans, and his hair’s a little damp like he’s just gotten out of the shower. “So what time do you guys go on?” he asks, he walks past the kitchen and heads toward us.

“In a couple of hours.” My brows knit as he puts his jacket on. “Are you coming with us?”

“Yeah,” Lea answers for him as she slips a pair of fingerless gloves on. “He said he wanted to come and I said he could because I thought we could use a man’s help getting the drums out of the garage and into the trunk of your car.” She gives me an apologetic look and mouths, I’m sorry.

“We’re not helpless women,” I say, trying to make it sound like I’m joking, but I’m not. I don’t like that Tristan’s going. Not after what happened in the grocery store yesterday. In fact, I was hoping to get a little space tonight and clear my head, and I want to be mad at Lea for asking him to help us, but I can’t, because I understand where she’s coming from. Lea’s a lot like me when it comes to being rude to people and I’m sure the last thing she wanted to do was tell Tristan no when he said he wanted to tag along.

“I know you’re not helpless,” Tristan says, stopping in front of me as he slips his jacket on. “But I figured I could come watch you rock out for the night instead of hanging out here by myself.”

I liked it better when Tristan and Lea didn’t like each other. In the beginning Tristan would never have gone anywhere Lea was, because they clashed so badly. But now they’ve warmed up to each other.

“Unless for some reason you don’t want me to.” There’s a challenge in his blue eyes like he’s daring me to say it—that I’m afraid of being near him because we almost kissed.

I shake my head, pretending to be indifferent. “No, you can go.” I fake a smile, feeling like a jerk because of my feeling toward him. Or lack of feeling, anyway. Part of me wishes I could reciprocate but I can’t make myself feel that way, especially when my head’s stuck on someone else with honey-brown eyes and a sensitive heart, who had me so turned on yesterday when he was in the shower.

Tristan grins at me, zipping up his jacket. “Good, because I really want to see you play.”

I keep smiling as I exit the apartment and the two of them follow me. They start chatting about what songs we’re going to play and Lea starts listing them. They’re all covers, something she told me the other day when I tried to use the excuse that I wouldn’t know the songs they were playing, to get out of going. Turns out I knew all of them, so that didn’t work.

It’s okay, though. Things could be a hell of a lot worse, something I tell myself in order to keep moving as I walk out of the apartment.

It’s dark and breezy outside and I immediately wrap my arms around myself, shivering as the breeze hits me. “Jesus, wearing a skirt wasn’t a good idea,” I remark as I rush for my car.

I feel someone move up to my side, but I don’t turn my head because I know it’s Tristan as soon as I hear the lighter flick. “I think you look good,” he says with a wink.

“Thanks,” I say, rubbing my hands up and down my arms. “But I’m not sure it’s worth freezing to death.”

“I’ll keep you warm,” he jokes, smoke encircling his face.

I don’t know how to respond, so I just offer him a smile and head for the driver’s side of my car. After we get inside, Lea in front, thankfully, I back out of the parking spot and head for Jaxon’s garage. His parents said they’d be home when I called earlier and told them I needed to pick the drums up, but part of me is hoping that they won’t be. But the lights are on inside the house when we pull up and I can’t help but sigh, heavyheartedly.

“Don’t look so down,” Tristan leans forward and says in my ear as Lea gets out of the car. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“I hope so,” I mutter, reaching for the phone inside my pocket as it starts to ring. I think it’s going to be Quinton, wishing me luck or something, but it’s my mom.

I answer as Tristan moves the seat forward and gets out of the car. “Hey, can I call you back?” I ask her, my fingers folding around the door handle. “I’m getting ready to play in about an hour.”

“Oh, was that tonight?” She sounds distracted and a little out of it, not like her usual self. “I’m sorry. I’ll call you back later.”

“What’s wrong?” I think I know, though, without hearing the answer.

“It’s nothing. I just… call me when you’re done.”

“Mom, I can’t wait now,” I say, growing more worried by the second. “Not when you sound like something tragic just happened… does… does it have to do with Delilah?” I hold my breath, remembering when I was twelve and I had to meet her in the waiting room at the hospital right after my dad died.

She was crying when she walked through the door, frantically looking around like she was expecting my dad to walk out from one of the rooms. Then she spotted me sitting in the chair by myself and she panicked.

“Oh my God.” She rushed to me, clutching her purse. “Are you okay?” She threw her arms around me and I can remember thinking how strange that was, since after all she’d just lost her husband.

“I’m fine,” I said in an eerily calm voice. “But Mom… Dad’s gone.”

She only pulled me closer, hugging me so tightly I had to stand up out of the chair. “I know, honey. And I’m so sorry.”

I wrapped my arms around her, even more confused over her worry for me. “I’m okay, Mom, but are you?”

That set her off and she started to sob onto my shoulder. I held on to her as she nearly collapsed to the floor, telling myself that I had to be the strong one. And I was, helping out with the funeral arrangements, calling up my grandparents and telling them what had happened. I was always better at that stuff, dealing with other people’s issues instead of my own.

“Nova, I’m going to tell you something, and yes, it’s about Delilah,” my mom says, bringing me back to reality. “But I need to know you’re not alone… is Lea around?”

I glance out the window at Lea, who’s saying something to Tristan in front of the car as she bounces up and down from the cold. “Yeah.”

“Good.” She lets out a breath of relief. “Because I need to know that you’ll have someone there for you.”

“I do.” My heart tightens, death in the air. “Delilah’s mom found her, didn’t she?” I say, gripping the steering wheel, trying not to hyperventilate. “And she’s dead.”

“She’s headed down to Vegas to… God, I don’t even know how to say this.” She pauses, looking for the right words, but what she doesn’t get is that they don’t exist. I’m familiar with the routine by now and nothing she says is going to change the outcome of the situation. “She’s going down to identify a body… see if it’s Delilah’s.”

I press my lips together, feeling the numbness flow through me as I fight to shut myself down. I’ve been through this before. I know what to do. Just like I know that in a few minutes I’m going to start assessing every single thing I did wrong, like the time I walked away from that apartment and left Delilah there sobbing, strung out, and with an asshole of a boyfriend. God, this never ends. Death. Regret. Remorse. Guilt. It’s a stupid cycle and I want it to stop.

“Do they know how she died?” I ask in an uneven voice.

“Well, they don’t even know if it’s her yet,” my mom says, keeping her voice gentle in an attempt to soothe me, but there’s an underlying ache to it, one that leads me to believe that she’s pretty sure it’s Delilah. “Nova, are you going to be okay? You’ve got that tone—the one you get before you shut down.”

“I’m fine.” I sit up and extend my hand for the door handle. “Thanks for letting me know, but I have to go get ready to play tonight.”

“Nova, I—”

I hang up on her, not wanting to talk about it anymore. I’m done talking about death. I can’t do it anymore. I just can’t. Yet it keeps pushing its way into my life. And not just my life. Everyone’s, really. It haunts everyone and everything and I wish I had the power to make it go away so that no one would have to feel the ache, the cracking apart, the inability to process it because it doesn’t make any goddamned sense.

After taking so many breaths I become light-headed, I put my phone away and get out of the car. Lea immediately gives me a worried look, which makes me wonder what I look like at the moment. But before she can say anything, I head for the front door, calling over my shoulder to Lea and Tristan, “Are you guys coming?”

They quietly follow me, Lea boring a hole in my head, while Tristan seems a little oblivious. But it’s not his fault. He doesn’t know me like Lea, and I know that as soon as the night’s over, she’s going to corner me and start yammering questions. I wouldn’t even be surprised if my mom calls her and tells her what’s up, which makes me want to bail out somehow.

In fact, it’s all I can think about as Jaxon’s parents let us inside. There’s this awkward sort of exchange between Lea and Jaxon’s mom as she walks us to the garage, and Lea ends up talking to her while Tristan and I load up the trunk of the car and the backseat with my drums, my thoughts refusing to be quiet. I keep picturing scenarios of what happened and they mix with all the good memories I had of Delilah. Like the first time we actually hung out. I was sad and she made me laugh by making a joke about our English teacher having a mustache. It was the first time I’d laughed since Landon died. Then we went to college together, and while we weren’t always on the same page, things were still good. She still made me laugh. Forced me to go out into civilization once in a while. Forced me to try to live when all I wanted to do was let myself die inside.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Tristan comments as he puts my drumsticks into the backseat.

“I’m fine.” I shut the trunk and climb into the car as Lea walks out the front door, carrying a plate of cookies.

Tristan gets into the backseat and buckles his seat belt, watching me in the rearview mirror. “Are you sure? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“I’m fine,” I repeat, and then remain silent as Lea gets into the car. I should probably tell him about Delilah, but I can’t bring myself to talk about it at the moment. I also worry about how he’s going to react when I do. I’m not sure how close they were, but they did live together and that has to mean he cared about her in one way or another.

“What’s with the cookies?” I ask as Lea balances the plate on her lap.

“Jaxon’s mom gave them to me… she also said how much her family misses me.” She sighs and then starts rambling about how uncomfortable that was as I drive to Red & Black Ink. I’m relieved by the distraction of her chatting, nodding and agreeing in all the right places. But as soon as we pull up to the back parking lot, I feel nauseous. Why didn’t I do something to help Delilah? Why is death always happening? Why? Why? Why?

I need to calm down somehow, because I don’t even know if the body is Delilah’s yet. But I can’t and things only get worse the longer the night goes on. I’m stronger than this. Tough. I’ve been through this before. Nothing works. Breathing. Counting. God, I’m counting everything, my mind racing a million miles a minute. But I can still feel myself about ready to fall apart the moment we step into the club and the madness surrounds me. My mind seeks structure but there’s nothing around me and I can feel myself falling.

“Nova, get your head in the game,” Lea shouts over the chatter of voices around us. We’re seated in a booth, waiting to go on. The whole place is decorated with red Christmas lights and the cheeriness of them clashes with the black walls and makes the place seem eerie. Tristan wandered off to the bathroom, but he’s been gone for over ten minutes and I’m wondering if he took a detour. I hope it’s to find a girl and not get a drink or something even worse. This place is making me uneasy because it’s crawling with temptation. I know because I’ve seen a few drug exchanges happen. Jesus, why did I let him come? Especially with all the sketchiness with that Jazz guy. I was so distracted by his overly friendly attitude that I forgot how this place was.

Lea waves her hand in front of my face and I flinch. “Earth to Nova.”

“Sorry.” I blink my attention from my glass of water and look at her. “I’m dazing pretty badly, aren’t I?”

“Yeah.” As soon as she says it, I glance at the crowd again, thinking I see Tristan, but it’s just another blond-haired, boy-band-member-looking guy.

Lea crosses her arms and assesses me from across the table. “Okay, what the hell is your problem?”

“Nothing,” I say, not ready to talk about it—say it aloud—deal with it. I wonder if Delilah’s mom will find out exactly how she passed away. I wonder if it matters, because in the end it doesn’t change anything. She’ll still be gone.

“I know when you’re lying,” Lea says sternly, and then she puts her hand on the table. “So just fess up.”

“It’s nothing,” I tell her, slumping back in the booth. “My mom and I just had a fight. That’s all.”

“Over what?”

“Over me coming home for Christmas.”

She takes a drink of her water. “I thought she was okay with you staying here for the holidays just as long as you came home for a few days around New Year’s?”

I scratch my tattoo, hating that I’m lying, but talking about Delilah isn’t an option yet. “Yeah, I thought so, too, but she changed her mind.”

She gives me a sympathetic look. “You could always go home.”

I shake my head. “No, I have too much stuff to do with work and stuff.”

“Well, then cheer up, missy.” Lea points a finger at me. “Your mom will get over it, just like she does with everything you do. Besides, tonight’s going to be so awesome, you won’t even have time to think about being bummed out.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll try not to be a complete downer tonight.”

“Good.” She smiles and then turns in the booth to look at the dance floor. “I wonder where Brody and Braxton are?”

“Maybe they got cold feet,” I say. “And it’ll just be you and me.”

She turns around and scowls at me. “Stella would never allow that. You know she hates when people try to do solo acts.”

“It wouldn’t be a solo act.” I stir my ice with my straw. “But I’m sure everything is going to be okay… I’m sure they’ll show up.”

She considers what I said and then takes her phone from her jacket pocket. “I’m going to call them and see what’s up.”

I zone out as she yammers on the phone with Brody. I can tell by the way she keeps laughing and twirling her hair that she’s really happy right now. I need to make myself cheer up and be a better friend, like I wasn’t with Delilah. So I sit up straighter and put on my best happy face as she hangs up the phone.

“They’re running late,” she announces as she picks up a few fries from a basket between us. “But they’ll be here in just a few minutes.”

I grab a handful of fries. “You seem happy, when you’re talking to Brody, I mean.”

She pops some fries in her mouth. “I am happy.” She grins from ear to ear. “He makes me really happy, Nova.”

“How long have you been seeing him?”

“It’s about damn time you asked,” she says, wiping her fingers on a napkin.

“Hey.” I frown. “You’re the one who kept the secret from me. How was I supposed to ask questions about him when I didn’t even know about him?”

“Yeah, you’re right… still, you barely seemed interested in him, even after I told you.” She scoops up another fry and dips it in the cup of ranch. “But that’s okay. You’ve been sad lately.” She pauses, the fry in her hand, dripping ranch on the table as she waits for me to say something, probably for me to give an explanation as to why I’ve been so sad.

“I’ve just been bummed out over silly things,” I lie, afraid that if I start talking about everything, I won’t be able to stop. The floodgates will open and I’ll lose it, right here in the bar. “Work and school stuff.” I sit up straighter in the booth. “But I’ll try to cheer up, and I want to hear about Brody.”

She seems unconvinced, but says, “Well, I’ve been seeing him since the middle of September.”

“That long?” I ask, and she nods. “Jesus, how did I not know this?”

She rotates in her seat and points at Tristan, who’s standing at the bar, chatting with the bartender. “Because that one’s had you distracted, along with the sad, brown-eyed one you spend all your time on the phone with.”

“Dammit,” I curse, getting out of the booth and shoving through the crowd toward Tristan. Why does he have to choose to drink tonight of all nights, when I’m already cracking apart?

When I arrive at the bar, Tristan’s laughing at something the bartender is saying.

“Hey, I was just talking about you,” he says, smiling at me.

I smell the Jack Daniel’s on his breath as soon as he speaks, and then notice the glass on the counter. “You drank.” I sound horrified.

He rolls his eyes, like it’s the most absurd thing he’s ever heard. “I had one drink.” He holds up his finger. “And I’m a recovering drug addict. Not an alcoholic.”

Jesus, can this night get any worse? “Yeah, but you told me once that one can easily lead to the other. Remember?”

“I say shit all the time.” He dismisses my worry, turning to face me. Then he leans against the bar and puts his elbow on it, all casual and relaxed, but definitely not sober. “Besides, I only did it because of you.”

“Because of me?” I ask, confused. “Why? What did I do?”

“It’s not what you did,” he says, his gaze flicking to my lips. “But what you didn’t do.”

God, please don’t let this conversation go where I think it’s going. “I’m sorry if I forgot to do something,” I say, noting that he’s sort of acting like an ass, which is his telltale sign that he’s been doing drugs.

He lets out a soft laugh, his forehead furrowing. “You’re so naïve sometimes.”

“Hey, I am not,” I say, turning my back on him, offended because I’m not naïve. I know exactly what he’s talking about. I just don’t want to deal with it tonight.

He catches my arm and stops me from leaving. “Nova, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” He draws me back to him and just like that my crappy night gets even worse. Because without warning, he kisses me, tasting like Jack Daniel’s and vulnerability and reminding me of our first kiss, only I was trashed then and there was a lot more tongue involved. This time it’s just on the lips, no tongue, thankfully.

When he pulls away, he mutters something that sounds an awful lot like “Wow.” Then he lets go of my arm and slants back to look me in the eyes. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a few months now.”

“I…” I open my mouth to say something—anything—to salvage this situation, but I just struggle to find my voice.

As it starts to click that I’m not on the same page as him, his expression sinks. But before he can say anything, Lea shows up and interrupts us. “We’re on in like twenty, so we need to get your drums out of the car and into the back area.” She’s bouncy and buzzing with adrenaline and excitement.

“Okay.” I glance at Tristan. “Can we talk about this later?”

He shrugs, his expression cold. “Is there anything to talk about?”

“Maybe.” I scratch my tattoo, wishing there were an answer there in the words, a solution that would fix this. “Just please don’t go anywhere.”

He doesn’t answer and I end up walking away, feeling guiltier than I already did tonight. I worry about what he’s going to do, especially if he finds out about Delilah, and I’m going to have to tell him eventually.

Lea grabs my arm and guides me toward the back door, hissing under her breath, “What the hell was that about?” She pushes the door open and we step out into the cold, where she lets go of me. “The tension was so thick, I could seriously cut it with a knife.”

“I’ll tell you after we play,” I mutter as I hurry across the icy parking lot toward my car.

She shuffles after me, her heels clicking against the ice. “Why can’t you just tell me now?”

“Because you’re going to freak out,” I say, sticking my hand into my pocket to get my car keys out. “And your head needs to be in the game right now.”

After that, Lea and I start unloading the drums from my car. It’s late, the stars are shining, and I can’t help but think of the many times I spent staring up at the stars with my dad, Landon, and Quinton. At some point, I’ve lost them all. Quinton did come back, though, but at the same time he’s still distant. And now there’s another person gone and I swear my heart can’t take it anymore.

Knock it off, Nova. You don’t even know if she’s gone yet.

As we carry the last of the drums inside, Lea lets the door shut and then smiles at something over my shoulder. She raises her arm and waves at someone behind me. “Hey, we’re over here.” Then she whispers to me, “Nova, smile. You look like your dog just died.”

I prepare myself the best I can, trying to get my head into the game, and fake a smile as two guys walk up to us. One of them is taller, with spiky blond hair and colorful tattoos covering both his arms. The other guy is a little bit on the short side, but good-looking, with brown hair that hangs over his ears and forehead and these really blue eyes that match his shirt. He’s really stocky, too, and I’m guessing he’s Brody, the football player/guitarist.

Lea introduces us and I find out that I was right. Brody is the stockier one and seems nice enough, at least I’m guessing he is. I barely get two words out before Lea and he start making out behind the stage.

Braxton, the taller one and the bassist, seems a little uncomfortable, with his hands stuffed in his pockets as he glances around the bar, trying to avoid looking at the heavy amount of PDA going on beside us.

“Hey,” he finally says, looking at me. His eyes scroll up and down my body and he seems a little confused. “So you’re the drummer Lea’s been talking about?”

I smile, despite the massive amount of surprise in his tone. “Yep, that would be me.”

He gives me a look of annoyance mixed with disbelief. “Yeah, I think I’ll have to see it for myself because I’m not buying it, especially since you’re in a band with that Jaxon dude, who sucks.”

I glance over at Lea, who’s still in a lip lock, pressed up against the wall, then give a haughty look to Braxton. “Yeah, you will see. Trust me.” I’m not normally a mean person, but he’s being an ass and tonight I’m about to lose it. I can feel it.

“A little cocky, aren’t we?” he asks in a snide tone as he arches a brow at me.

“Only because you’re being a douche bag.” I feel like a terrible person as soon as I say it. “I’m sorry.”

“Braxton, knock it off,” Brody interrupts, still holding on to Lea. There’s lipstick all over his mouth and jaw and Lea’s is smeared. “Nova’s helping us out here and you don’t need to be an asshole.”

“Sorry,” Braxton mutters, and then Lea and Brody go back to making out. Braxton scratches at the back of his neck, looking over at the bar. “So do you want a drink? I could go get us a couple of shots and maybe we could try to chill out.” He sounds doubtful.

“No thanks. I’m not a big drinker and I don’t do shots at all.”

“Okay, I guess that’s cool.” He pauses and I can tell he’s struggling for something else to say. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “So how long have you been playing the drums?”

“A few years,” I say, and he nods with vague interest, staring over at the tables, where a waitress is bent over, her dress so short she’s flashing the entire room.

Things get quiet after that. I think about leaving, but I’m worried that the moment I step away, we’ll be called to go on. Finally, after a very painful twenty minutes, Stella comes back and tells us to “Get your asses up there.”

“Wait, we need to decide what song we’re going to open up with,” Lea says as Brody picks his guitar up off the floor and starts heading for the stage area.

“You guys haven’t picked out your lineup?” I ask, ready to get this show on the road, ready for a break that only my drums can give me. I just need to clear my head for a moment. Think about music. Forget about all the crap that just hit the fan. Braxton shakes his head and then the three of them start arguing about what cover would be the best one to start with. I try to stay calm as I lean back against the wall and watch Stella get impatient with their lack of organization. I know she might very likely kick them out of the lineup and so I finally step forward and offer what I think would be a good song to start out with.

“How about ‘Tears Don’t Fall,’ by Bullet for My Valentine?” I suggest, because I want to really beat my drums up at the moment.

“That’s a dude’s song and Lea’s a girl.” Braxton gives me the hardest look I’ve ever seen.

“I’m sure she can handle it.” I look to Lea for help. “Can’t you?”

She gives me a smile. “I think that’s the perfect song. Great choice, Nova.”

Braxton utters something under his breath that sounds an awful lot like “Stupid bitch.” I take a deep breath and brush it off because it doesn’t really matter. Not when so much other stuff is going down. Then Lea and I go up onto the stage and set the pieces of the drums down at the back, so they’re organized perfectly just behind the microphone, while Braxton and Brody plug their guitars into the amp.

The lights shine down on us and the people sitting at the tables below, and over at the bar, are barely paying attention to us, but there are still enough people that it gives me butterflies. But I like the feeling. In fact, I welcome it. That’s what drums are to me. A distraction. From everything going on around me. All my problems. The aching inside. The confusion. My thoughts.

“Braxton hates me,” I say to Lea, setting the last piece of my kit down on the floor.

She shakes her head, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. “He’s just upset because Spike isn’t here to play with us.”

“Spike?” I ask, rearranging the drum pieces to get them exactly where I want them.

“Yeah, our old drummer.” She adjusts the height of the microphone stand.

“Your old drummer was named after a character from Buffy the Vampire Slayer?”

She snorts a laugh. “Well, it wasn’t his real name. Just a nickname he gave himself because he hated his real name.”

“What was his real name?” I ask, picking up my drumsticks and twirling them through my fingers.

The corners of her lips tug upward. “Larry.”

I stop twirling the drumsticks. “Okay, I get the name change now.”

She starts to laugh again, but her laughter quickly turns to nervousness as Stella yells that we’re up. Seconds later we’re all ready to go, moments away from playing. Lea looks nervous as she stands under the lights, drumming her fingers on the side of her leg, and I feel the same way, but at the same time I crave the different feeling inside me, because it wipes out all the other stuff stirring within me.

“You’ll do fine, babe,” Brody says to Lea, giving her an encouraging kiss that seems to settle her down.

I think it’s then that I realize two things: one, Brody’s not so bad, and two, I really, really want to see Quinton. More than I ever have. I want to get lost in him. Hold on to him. Be held by him and just know that he’s there. Maybe if he kissed me, it could relax me. Or maybe it’s not necessarily him that I crave, so much as the need to just get out of here. Run away. Take a break.

I try to shake the thought out of my head the best I can and focus on playing. As soon as I raise my drumsticks, I sort of zone out as the bright lights wash over me. This is solitude. My peace. Nothing exists here but the music, and part of me wishes I could exist in this moment forever.

Seconds later the guitar and bass start playing, and the first notes of the intro blast through the amps. I get ready, waiting for the right moment to connect, waiting until I get swept away in the music. It gets closer and closer and I bring my sticks over my head. When I slam them down, Lea’s voice and the banging of my drums collide and flow out over the room.

I slam my foot against the pedal, pouring my heart and soul out with the rhythm, putting enough energy into it that I can barely breathe. I drown in the music as the sticks and drums collide. Beats. Notes. Vibrations. It overtakes me. Nothing exists in this moment but the music. Not Tristan. Not Delilah. Not even Quinton. This is just about me.

As the song picks up, so does my energy. I’m sweating, panting, fueling the song with every part of me. My foot slams on the pedal, in sync with my hands. Over and over again. The song ends, but another one picks right back up, “I Miss the Misery” by Halestorm. I keep going, draining all my energy, hoping it’s enough that when I stop, I’ll be too tired to think. Too tired to focus on my problems.

But as soon as we’re done playing the last song, a wave filled with all the pain I’ve ever felt in my entire life rushes over me The pain grows with every song we play, and after our set is done I can’t find Tristan anywhere. I finally take out my phone to call him, telling Lea I’ll be right back before walking out the back door to get some quiet.

“Hey,” I say after he answers. “Where are you?”

I can hear commotion in the background. “At a party.”

“Tristan.” Disappointment laces my voice. “Are you serious?”

“Does it sound like I’m serious?” he asks as someone shouts something profane in the background.

“Maybe, but I’m hoping you’re not.” I turn to the side and plug my finger in my ear as someone walks out the door, talking loudly. “Look, I get that things are a little weird between us, but just come home and I’ll try to fix it. You’ve been doing so well and I’m sure you don’t want to ruin that, right?”

“You can’t fix everything, Nova.” His tone lightens a little. “And besides, this isn’t even about you.”

I inch toward the side of the building, trying to get farther away from the door because people keep walking out and being noisy. “Then what is it about?”

“Life and how shitty it is and how it just loves dealing me the shitty-ass cards.”

“Why is it shitty? Because you’re sober?”

“No, it has nothing to do with that or with you,” he says, and then he sighs. “Look, I get that you want to help me. I get that I’ve been doing good. I get that what I’m planning on doing in the next ten minutes is probably going to fuck up my life, but you know what, I don’t really have a life anymore. Not a good one, anyway.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, and when he doesn’t answer I say, “Tristan, talk to me—” He hangs up on me.

“Shit.” I try to dial his number again, but it goes straight to voice mail. I try to text him, but he still hasn’t responded by the time I get into the car and am heading home.

“What party do you think he’s at?” I ask Lea as we make the short drive home. She was planning on hanging out with Brody, but she said their plans got canceled. I think she’s worried about me, though, and that’s why she decided to come home with me.

It’s after nine, the sky starry and the moon a crescent in the sky, and I can’t help but count the stars repeatedly, every time I have to stop at a red light. “Maybe we can track him down,” I say.

Lea seemed mildly upset when I told her what happened on the phone with Tristan, but she’s not freaking out as much as I am. “Nova, there’s no way you’re going to be able to track him down. It’s Friday night, for God’s sakes.”

“Lea, you didn’t hear him on the phone,” I say, making a right onto the main road, which is glossy with ice so I have to drive slowly. “He’s going to do something to ruin his sobriety. I can feel it.”

She lets out a slow breath, her head turned toward the window as she watches the Christmas lights strung across the trees to the side of the road. “Nova, we’ve been through this before. You can’t just save everyone, especially when they don’t want to be saved.” She looks at me with what seems like pity in her eyes, but I don’t know why she’s feeling that way toward me. “So just let it go. When he comes home you can see where he stands and go from there.”

I shake my head, tears about to pour out. “I can’t take this anymore.”

“What? Tristan? Or are we talking about something else?”

I have to work to keep my eyes open, the tears bubbling their way up as I turn into our apartment complex. “Tristan. Delilah. Quinton. Myself. I’m so sick of just sitting by and watching people fall apart.”

She reaches across the seat and gives my arm a gentle squeeze. “Well, you have me.”

I know she’s right, but at the moment her touch only feels cold. I park the car and we head inside. She follows me, not saying much until we’re inside the apartment and I’m heading to my room.

“Nova, please, just stop fighting to save everyone,” she says. “You need to learn to just let some things go.”

I step into my room, turning to face her as I make to shut the door. “Do you know what happens when you let things go?” I ask, and she just stares at me. “People fall apart and die. And even though it might be a lost cause and you might think I’m crazy, I’m still going to do it, because no one else seems to be.” And with that I shut the door.

I think about calling Quinton and talking to him about everything, but I’m tired of talking to him on the phone. I just want to see him—want to hold him and know that through this entire mess at least he’s doing okay. I know it’s crazy. Selfish. Impulsive. I know that I have work and other things—life—and I can only go for a day. But I need that day more than I need anything at the moment. So before I can chicken out, I quickly start packing my bags, hoping that when I get there, he won’t send me away.