I've always been a loner. I try not to be. I can't help it, though. I like to be alone. I swam because being on a team was never easy for me. In swimming you're responsible for you. The only person I ever want to play music with was her. She dragged me into this band. She pushed me and challenged me and it made me better. I still resented her for it.
She was never like me, though. She never wanted to be alone. I should have known that, when we split, she'd be the one to find someone else. And find someone else she did. Seventeen years later, I still fucking hate him.
Not that he's a bad guy. From what I can tell, he's actually a very decent human. He treats her well and she loves him. She didn't bring him around for years. Then she started to get more comfortable with bringing him along. He was some business mogul and had his own money, and he'd show up on jets to surprise her. The last tour, he came on the road with us and as immature as it was, I couldn't even be in a room with him. I know it hurt her, and that only made me feel worse. So I just quit.
Ten years disappeared. I truly thought I'd never have to be around her again. Before I came back, she called me. We talked for hours, and we came to an understanding. Rehearsals so far had been wonderful. She'd even let me take her to dinner a couple times to catch up, and somehow, she even seemed to enjoy having me around again.
I watch her board the plane tonight as we prepare to go on tour again, and I can't take my eyes off of her. She's not in stage clothes, and she doesn't have any make up on. She looks like the Stevie I remember. My Stevie.
She notices me looking at her and smiles, and I do my best to return it. "Hey there," she says, sitting next to me.
"How are you?"
"Honestly? I've been better."
"What's wrong?"
She shakes her head. "I've just a lot going on. I'm a little nervous about leaving John and Brie."
"They'll be alright. And they're coming out in a few weeks, right?"
She shakes her head. "No, he can't make it," she says, looking heartbroken. There's more to this story, but I don't feel like I can ask any more questions.
"I'm sorry." I don't know what I can say.
She changes the subject and we chat idly on the relatively short flight to Texas, where we'll be kicking off. By the time we get there, she's resting her head on my shoulder, her fingers laced between mine. I can't even move, afraid I'll disturb her and this will stop. It's as close as I've been to her in ages and I'm trying to not let my mind wander.
When we finally land, we all get in our cars, ready to settle in for the night. When we arrive at the hotel, I help her out of the car and look at her curiously, wishing I could ask her what's actually going on. She wraps her arms around my waist and I hold her for what I know is probably a little too long, but no one seems to notice. "Get some rest," I say, kissing the top of her head. "Call me when you get up tomorrow. I'll take you to lunch."
She smiles a little and nods, letting security take her away before she says anything else. I watch her disappear through a back entrance, and Mick jabs me when he notices that I'm staring. "Careful, mate. That husband of hers could take you."
I shake my head and ignore him, heading toward the hotel. God, it was only the first night. Was I really trying to be just friends with her? We'd never been able to do that. She seemed to want to, though, and I'm not about to push her away from me again. Could I actually be mature about this?
I collapse onto the bed in my room and turn on the TV, letting all my stuff sit there in a pile. It doesn't take me long to fall asleep, despite the way my mind is racing. I'm woken by a weight on the side of the bed and turn to see Stevie climbing into the bed. Even by the light of the TV I can see that her face is wet and she's been crying.
"Stevie? What's wrong?"
"I don't want to talk. Just let me sleep here, okay?" He voice is choked with sobs.
"Yeah, sure," I say, still groggy. Was this really happening? I watch her settle in for a minute, desperately wanting to touch her but terrified to start something I can't finish. "Are you sure you can't tell me what's going on?"
"Shut up. I don't need to talk. I need you to put your arms around me and tell me I'll be fine." Her back is to me, but I pull her body against mine, my arm draped over her waist.
"You're okay, baby. I've got you." I do my best to offer comforting words, and she doesn't say anything, but I can feel the tension leaving her body. She clasps my hand and pulls my arm tighter around her, holding our hands to her chest. She's still crying, but she's calmer now. Her breathing eventually evens out as she falls asleep.
What the hell is she doing here? Doesn't she know how much trouble we'll be in if someone sees her in my room? We haven't done this in so long - I can't even remember the last time she let me hold her like this. I lay awake, making sure she stays asleep, my mind racing with every possible scenario that could drive her to my room in the middle of the night. Eventually, I fall asleep.
By the time I wake up, my bed is empty.
