All I Need (6 page)

Instead of returning her puzzled glances, I watched Hale in the crowd. He was focusing on Everly like he was waiting for an answer to something. But what?

As she pranced her ass up and down the stage, doing her thing, it looked like she shook her head at him a few times. Which led to him tilting his head the way a spoiled dog might when it didn’t get its way and was confused about it.

She’s not interested, dick. Give it a rest already.

Twice I lost my place and had to catch up. I could practically hear Dax threatening to shove a drumstick up my ass if I didn’t pull it together.

We finished the ‘90s covers we always did, and it was time. Time to sing the song I’d written for her. We’d sung it together a few times before, but after what had happened earlier, I was hoping she’d get it this time. I wished like hell she’d figure it all out and turn to me and say that she felt the same way.

What we
could
have was worth risking what we
did
have, I’d wanted to tell her so many times.

I hoped she’d hear it in my lyrics.

Her hypnotizing voice sang the few first lines, and I joined in on guitar. But when I started playing the intense opening chords that led to the bridge, the slow, steady beat of Dax’s kit chiming in behind me, I saw the one thing I couldn’t deal with.

Hale’s eyes were glued to her and his expression was pleading. He jerked his head toward the direction of the lake.

She was singing my words, the ones I’d written about her, about us, while having some intimate silent exchange with that asshole.

It stung in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

My dad used to smack me around when he was drunk. He used to get hammered and stumble home and trip over an invisible belonging of mine. Which led to my being woken up by more than a few backhands during my childhood—if you could call it that. Until I got big enough for him to back off. I didn’t sit around and dwell on it or let it turn me into a raging alcoholic or some shit. But I never forgot. The sting of a slap to the face wasn’t even something I could accurately describe.

It was paralyzing pain and numbness and shock all at once, no matter how many times it happened. Like having your face instantly set on fire.

When Everly dipped her chin in Hale’s direction, agreeing to whatever request he’d made, I felt the familiar brand of pain ripping through my chest. Like someone had just slapped me in the heart the way my old man used to slap me across the face.

My throat closed at the sight of Hale grinning like a goddamned maniac before jogging off toward the lake. Where she was probably going to meet him. Because, of course, he was looking for a replay of last year.

She whipped her head over her shoulder and waited for me to sing my part of the song. Of our song.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t sing along anymore.

“S
o I was a colossal dick earlier,” Kennedy Hale murmured under his breath to me while his dad was busy botching the introducing of the band.

I raised my eyes to his, unsure of how to respond to that.

“And I know I handled things badly last year.” His expression was surprisingly apologetic.

I frowned. “O-kay. So what? You want me to say I forgive you?” I shot back at him. “Like you even care.”

I caught Bree watching us intently from the edge of the crowd. I tried to smile to let her know I was okay. Actually, she was the one who didn’t look so hot. I wondered if maybe she was sick. Every year I reminded everyone not to eat Bernie’s chili. That woman probably sprinkled crack in it.

Returning my gaze to Kennedy’s, I saw his thick, dark brows lower as he frowned at me. “I do care, Pink. I never meant for it to get like that. It was just—”

The mayor interrupted him by introducing me, and I couldn’t hear him over the applause anyway.

“—at the lake, after,” I heard him say.

No. No way. Been there. Done that. Not going to be that stupid girl again who fell for his Golden Boy bullshit.

I shook my head, but his eyes held a desperate plea, like somehow it really was important to him.

“Five minutes, Everly. Come talk to me for five minutes down by the lake, and then I’ll leave you be. Promise.”

And I couldn’t lie to myself. I wanted to talk to him. Wanted to know why he’d even bothered with me if it was just going to be a one-time deal he’d never wanted to repeat or acknowledge.

As much as I hated to admit it, I wanted, no, I
needed
to hear him say there was nothing wrong with me. That it was something else that had kept things from being more than just one night of hooking up.

I held my own and ignored him through the first few songs. But then I couldn’t stand it. The way he stood in the front row, begging with me with those big brown eyes, like he needed my approval as badly as I needed the approval of this town. It got to me.

So finally, a few lyrics into a song Jubb had written recently, I gave in and nodded to Kennedy that I would meet him.

The goofy grin that spread across his face made me smile in return.

The tightness I’d been carrying in my chest for so long eased, and I felt like I could breathe deeply for the first time in forever.

I dove deeper into Jubb’s song, feeling like it was the best one I’d ever sung.

All this time, I’ve kept it to myself. The wanting you, knowing you had someone else. But now I don’t know where to go from here. If I can just move on
,
just play the game. If I can hide my heart when I hear your name.

But how do you hide your greatest fear? How do your keep your pride from saying what you don’t want to hear?

Sucking in a lungful of air, I stepped closer to where Jubb was, preparing to harmonize on the part we sang together.

His lyrics were beautiful and the combination of our voices, his thick and raspy and mine a few octaves higher, reminded me of syrup pouring slowly over pancakes on a Sunday morning.

We leave all these things out in the open. But this one thing we leave unspoken. I wonder if you know, if you’re playing dumb, if it’s easier for you, to just be numb.

But I want to show you. I want make you feel. Want you to see what I know is real.

For some reason, Jubb didn’t come in when it was time. Continuing to sing, I angled my body toward my inexplicably mute guitarist. But he refused to meet my eyes. What the hell was his problem? I couldn’t risk messing up in front of the whole town, so I just turned away from him and sang the rest of it by myself, giving it all I had.

Our time is up. I can’t wait anymore. If you don’t want me back, then I’ll walk out the door. Because I can’t move on. Can’t play this game. I can’t pretend I don’t die inside when he says your name.

I finished the final chorus alone, shaking my head at Kennedy as he jogged off toward the lake. He’d given me one more goofy grin and had just disappeared out of sight when my worst nightmare became a reality.

A harsh sound pierced the air, and Jubb dropped his guitar. He muttered something that sounded like, “Fuck this,” and blew past me.

I gaped at his retreating figure.

My inner monologue was stuck on repeat.
OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod.
Fear and sheer panic tightened my throat. I went blank, only able to concentrate on the basic actions necessary for breathing. And I was struggling with those.

We weren’t done. There was still half a set list to play. I was just standing there, in front of the whole damned town. The one I wanted so badly to prove myself to. It had been going so well. Why would he do that to me? How could he?

Anger flared from the tips of my toes to my face, and I gaped at my confused audience. There was nothing to say to fix this. Once again, I was going to be that same shy punk kid outcast who ran off stage in tears.

Nothing had changed. I still wasn’t good enough. Still didn’t fit. The cold, hard truth lodged a cold, hard lump in my throat as my eyes filled with tears.

Damn Bree to hell for talking me into this. Damn Kennedy for what had happened last year. Damn Justin fucking Cohen for storming off and throwing a hissy fit in the middle of our show.

He knew exactly what this meant to me, knew just how deep my old scars were, and he just…left.

I shook my head and opened my mouth to apologize to the audience, but just as I did, the opening chords of Semisonic’s “Closing Time” flared up from behind me.

Jubb’s friend, Alex—I was pretty sure that was his name—had grabbed a guitar and was playing it. “We got one more song for you all tonight,” he announced as if this had been planned. “Justin knows I like to play this one. Hope you’ll enjoy hearing it.”

Shooting him a grateful smile, I mouthed, “Thank you,” just before we began the familiar song.

Alex had some skills, too. Thank God.

When the song ended, I looked over at Dax to see if he needed help with the equipment but he waved me off. “Thank you, Abbott Springs,” I hollered into the mic before jumping off the stage.

I was going to talk to Kennedy about everything. Get the closure I needed so I could move on with my life. But first, I was going to find out what in the living hell had gotten into Jubb.

And if it wasn’t a deadly case of food poisoning from Bernie’s chili, I was going to kill him.

I
heard her coming up behind me, but for once, I didn’t turn. Didn’t stop walking.

What was there to say?
Hey, I wrote that song for you and you sang it while give Kennedy Hale come-fuck-me eyes. It felt awesome by the way. Hope I can sing it at your wedding.

I kept my hands in my pockets and my head down. I felt like shit for leaving her that way. It didn’t dawn on me until I’d already bailed how important this show really was to her. But I had enough pissed-off and hurt in me to keep my momentum propelling me forward. Toward my apartment and away from her. From the one girl I’d always done anything and everything for.

The really screwed-up thing was, I still would. I knew she was going to meet him later, and it felt about as good as grabbing a handful of live wires. But even now, even seeing that she’d pick someone who’d used her, who could care less about her, over me, I knew if she really needed something, I’d be there. Well, within reason. If she needed a kidney or something. But I’d made my last Midol/tampon/chocolate ice cream run.