Page 26 of Beyond the Stix

I’m appreciative that John, Tobias, and the rest of the Harper Security team stayed diligent. I’m also grateful for Danny, Raef, Callum and Bobby. Without my bandmates—my best friends, I don’t know where my sanity would be at right now.

The moment I slide into the back of the blacked-out SUV, I draw in a lungful of oxygen, and try to relax. But not just yet. We still have the luncheon my mother’s friends have set up.

My mother admitted earlier that my father wouldn’t have wanted all this hoopla. And I had every intention on putting the kibosh on the lunch. But this is really for my mother, so I stop making a fuss and sit quietly next to her in the restaurant while her friends come up and interrupt her eating.

Being social is the last thing I want to do, but I can’t be rude.

Jesus, I’m a prick.

I lean into her a bit and gently grab hold of my mother’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes, their shape so similar to mine, meet my gaze. “For what?”

“For staying away for so long.” The acknowledgement sticks a like a burr in my throat. “I should have come home more often. Spent time with you and Dad. Talked to Dad.”

She squeezes my hand. “Honey, don’t feel guilty for moving along with your life. I don’t know what was said between you two, but he loved you so much. And I know Markus, he too would have regretted what he said to make you angry.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I knew your father well. He might have been a stubborn man—as stubborn as you are, Connor, but he would have done anything for you.”

But, would he have done anything?

I shake off that sour thought about my father, and return my attention back to my mom. “I know.”

“Anyway, he told me you two had words, and that he was sorry.”

“Me too.”

“Never forget we love you. No matter what.”

Her words have me losing my tight grip on my emotions. “Excuse me, I’ll be back.” I stand to leave, and see John stepping forward. “No, John. I only need a minute alone.” I push in the chair and stride to the only place that can afford me some privacy.

The moment I close the stall door and lock it, I quietly let loose the tears I’ve been holding onto for the entire day—the entire week. I’m exhausted, tired of peopling, and just want to go home and hide out in the tree house and listen to some music. Maybe write some lyrics.

Yeah. That’s not happening. With the way my head is filled with nothing but grief, I can’t focus.

We have less than two weeks before Rocktoberfest and the band still needs to finish the playlist. I need to get my head back into the music. If only it was that easy to do.

I don’t know how long I stood there in the stall, but the moment I wipe the wetness off my cheeks, I hear the washroom door open with a slight squeak. Thinking it’s John, I call out, “I’m fine, John. I don’t need you to watch me piss.”

“Sweetheart.”

That endearment has me freezing in place.Fucking Jessup.

I reach into my pocket for my phone to text John—shit. I left it at the table.

“Give me five minutes and then I’ll leave. Pinky promise.” I cringe at those words. He used to say that to me when he was going to do something special.

I close my eyes and let out an exasperated breath. “Just leave, Jessup. There’s nothing you can say that I want to hear. Again.”

“Come out here and tell me to my face.” His pleading tone sounds earnest enough. And not once has he tried to approach me or Mom during the luncheon, until now.

Against my better judgement, I rethink this matter between him and me. At least I can listen to what he has to say before I cast him from my life for good.

“Fine.” I unlock the door and step out. Aside from the light brown hair—mixed with silver at the temple though he’s ten years younger than my father, Jessup’s nearly the spitting image of him.

Jessup keeps his distance, and smiles at me in that way I remember. A familiar warmth settles over me but I immediately hate myself for feeling that warmth toward him. What he did to me is inexcusable.