Page 58 of Beyond the Stix

“That’s right,” Rafe adds. “But we all ended up sick with a cold or something.”

“Yeah, well I came home feeling like shit the next day. And I told my mom, I don’t ever want to go camping again. And I didn’t.” I rub the back of my neck and grimace at the memory.

“So that night you took off and hid in the tree house…” Danny looks through the closed window like he, too, is remembering. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

“Because I knew your parents would send me back home,” I admit.

“True.” Danny stands and stretches. “It nearly three in the morning. We all need sleep, if we want to kickass tomorrow.”

“You mean tonight,” Bobby yawns.

“Whatever—yeah, tonight.”

Danny leaves the room, and so do Bobby and Rafe. Callum stays planted next to me where I’m now sitting at the edge of the mattress. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

I look into his clear, but tired hazel eyes. “Truth?”

“Yes,” he says.

“I don’t really know.”

“Are you going to tell your mom?” he asks, straightening up from his slouched posture.

I blow out a heavy breath. “I guess I don’t have a choice. The last thing I want is to keep this from my mother. Knowing her, she’ll eventually find out from another source, and I want her to hear it from me instead.”

“You’re not alone in this, Connor. You have four friends that will be with you. And I know it’s not my place to tell you what to do with your love life, but John’s a good man. You can’t go wrong with him. Just trust that he has your heart and your safety in mind.” Callum smiles tiredly.

“You’re wise beyond your years, Fitz.”

“Tell me that after the concert,” he says and walks out of the room.

I lay there alone for the rest of the night, not able to sleep. My brain keeps mulling over what I need to do to get Jessup out of my life for good. And how am I going to get John back? Even if it’s only to apologize to him.

Callum’s words begin to percolate. Then an image of Dad bounces right into my brain and something loosens in my ribcage.

“Dad.” I turn onto my side, as tears slide out of my eyes. I don’t wipe them away. Each teardrop is for every second I will miss my old man’s presence in my life. I love my mom, but I always had a special bond with my father.

And out of all the things that man had said to me over the years, I recollect the one that seems most pertinent right now—what he used to say when shit got tough.

“Bite the bullet, son. There’s only one way, your way. Bite the bullet, and just do it.”

With those solemn words, I slowly fall into a deep sleep, as a song begins to form, and the poetic lyrics float along in my dreams.

Shattered lives, the damage is done.

Fight or flight, my trust is gone.

Bite the bullet, people would say.

Run and hide, my heart conveys.

No one wins, hope is lost.

Shattered hearts, at my cost.

Fight or flight, broken wings.

Bite the bullet, love can’t sing.