Page 44 of Heartbreak Honey

Before

Skyler was hungover, and yeah, he was pretty sure it was the middle of the day, but Trevor should still have some sympathy and quit slamming cabinet doors.

He managed to roll out of bed and throw some clothes on with his eyes half closed, then he stumbled into the kitchen and croaked out a, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Trying to make lunch,” Trevor said without turning to face him.

“You need every cabinet open for that?” he asked.

“I can’t find the stupid thing.”

He rubbed at his temples, wishing Trevor would talk quieter. “What thing?”

“The thing!” Trevor yelled, his voice getting shrill enough on the end to make Skyler cringe. “For the stupid avocados you like so much. You know, to make the stuff?”

“Huh?”

Trevor finally turned around, but not before slamming one more cabinet closed. “You know what? I don’t need your help, I can do it myself. Just go back and pass out again and ignore me. It’s what you’re good at.”

What the fuck?

“What are you talking about?” Skyler asked, taking a few steps farther into the kitchen until he and Trevor were standing on opposite sides of the island. “Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re clearly mad.”

Trevor slammed his fist down on the counter so suddenly it made him jump. “Yes, fine. I’m mad that I had to wake up early this morning and go down to the studio to record my vocals for the fourth time for the second stupid remix of that damn song, because they have to find a way to milk every penny out of a song until it sucks, and because they’re never satisfied and they act like I can’t sing for shit, even though I’ve been in this band for five years now.”

When he paused, Skyler thought that was all this was about. That Trevor was frustrated with the typical band stuff and taking it out on him. But it turned out, he wasn’t done. He was only catching his breath.

“And I’m mad that yesterday you promised you’d make me tacos for lunch when I got back today, but when I got back you were still asleep and smelling like tequila, because you couldn’t even bother to shower after you had the time of your life last night.”

Oh.Skyler had said he would make tacos. Shit.

But.

“Well I’m sorry I went out and had fun instead of waiting around here for you like a good househusband while you were taking your mistress to a comedy show that you knew I wanted to see.”

Trevor gave him a severely unimpressed look. And all right, that was immature. “Oh, I know you want to have fun,” Trevor said dryly. “We’re finally back at home, and I’d hoped we’d be able to spend time together and things would get…” He shook his head. “But no. I still barely see you because you’re constantly going out with all your new celebrity friends!”

Skyler narrowed his eyes and wrapped his hands around the island countertop, squeezing hard until the edge dug into his palms. “And you’re with Sierra all the time.”

“Because I have to be! You know that.”

Skyler shrugged. He did know. But it didn’t matter.

Because how did Trevor not understand that Skyler loved him so much his bones hurt when he was away from him? And yeah, maybe he’d been unconsciously trying to distance himself from him, but only so he could condition himself to get used to the pain.

Since he couldn’t be with Trevor all the time.

Maggie had made sure of that.

Trevor had refused to do the fake engagement and Maggie had let it go, but in exchange, she’d been sending Trevor and Sierra out on more and more public outings.

“Do you even care that we’re performing at the Grammys tomorrow night,” Trevor said, “and then we’re back on the road to start touring the next day? And it feels like all that this time we’ve supposedly had home together has done for us is tear us further apart?”

Unclenching his jaw, Skyler told him, “Of course, I fucking care. I care about all of that, but I’m wondering which you care about more, the band or me.”

“God, don’t fucking start with me about coming out again,” Trevor snapped. “I’m doing the best I can for both of us. Sometimes I feel like I’m doing everything I can to make you happy and make this relationship work, while you’re doing nothing but whine and get drunk.”

He couldn’t believe it. “Is that really what you think? Because I’m doing everything I can for you too!”

“You… You weren’t even at my mom’s funeral.”

Wait.

What?

Skyler was stunned. Stunned Trevor felt that way, stunned he would say it to him, stunned he would throw something like that in Skyler’s face.

In the moment it took him to snap out of it, Trevor moved around the island and walked right past him. Skyler tried to grab for his arm but missed, his reflexes not so sharp thanks to his stupid hangover.

He rushed to follow him into the living room, not letting this go because how fucking dare he. Trevor knew he would have moved heaven and hell to be there for him.

“You told me not to come!” he shouted at Trevor’s back.

Trevor turned around slowly, his shoulders sagging. “I couldn’t let you throw your career away for me.”

“So then how can you hold it against me now?”

“I’m not. I’m not saying it’s your fault you weren’t there. I’m just saying that if I’d been dating someone else, they could have been there. It would have been easier.”

Skyler still couldn’t believe he was hearing all this. He tried desperately to work past the lump in his throat and find the words to make this right. “I don’t care about easy.” His eyes pleaded with Trevor to believe him. To understand. “I only care about you.”

“And that doesn’t scare you?” Trevor asked.

“No.”

“Well.” A pause. “Maybe it scares me.”

Skyler dug his toes into the fluffy area rug, the one that he’d picked out and Trevor thought was ugly but had let him have anyway. This couldn’t be happening. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying”—Trevor’s voice cracked—“it’s terrifying to need someone this much. It makes me feel weak.”

“I—I can’t listen to this anymore. I don’t even know what to say to that.” It felt like Skyler was wading through dense sand as he stepped closer to Trevor, who didn’t even look real anymore. A mirage in the desert, and even if he could reach him, it wouldn’t be enough. “It doesn’t make you weak to need someone. I think it makes us stronger because we have each other.”

It was the middle of the day, but the sun set on Trevor’s face when he said, “Do we though? Do we really? Because it sure doesn’t feel like it lately. It feels like you want your idea of a perfect relationship more than you want me. It feels like you’re pulling away from me.”

“Me? I’m the one pulling away?” No fucking way did Trevor just say that to him. As if he could ever. As if he didn’t need Trevor like oxygen. “Are you crazy? I’m only doing whatever I can to try to cope with the fact that the love of my life doesn’t love me enough to fight for me!”

“What exactly do you want me to fight for?” Trevor asked harshly. “I love you! Do you need me to freaking sing about it? Because I thought I was already doing that. Do you need me to sing your name in a sold-out stadium? Would that make you happy?”

”That’s not—”

“Why can’t things ever just be about you and me? Why isn’t being with me in private enough for you? You’re making everything harder than it needs to be.”

That was it. Skyler had had enough. He couldn’t do this anymore. He wouldn’t.

He realized he was asking for a lot, but Trevor was the one who’d told him he could ask for what he wanted. Trevor was the one who kept promising they’d be okay. And now Trevor was the one who wanted to give up?

Fuck that.

He’d give up first.

“You know what?” he snapped, intending to make his next words hurt. “Maybe you are weak. But it isn’t needing me that makes you weak.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“When things get hard your first instinct is to quit.”

“It’s not my first instinct!” Trevor yelled, stepping forward, then seeming to catch himself and stepping back again. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve been dealing with this shit for years!”

Well.

Skyler tried his best to keep his voice steady as his world fell apart. “If loving me is something you don’t want to deal with anymore, then maybe you should stop.”

“Skyler.” Trevor shook his head. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying get out.”

No. That’s not what I’m saying. No.

“What?” Trevor asked, desperation tinging the word.

Skyler could take it back.

But instead.

“Get the fuck out! I don’t want you here!”

Trevor’s mouth dropped open, and Skyler was just as shocked at his own words. God, what was he doing? Why was his mouth saying things that made his heart feel like it was being slowly sliced open with a butter knife?

He should take it back. He should take it back right now before it was too late. Shove his stupid pride back down and beg for forgiveness. Trevor always forgave him.

Except.

He couldn’t make any other words come out. His throat closed up and he couldn’t breathe, and then suddenly Trevor turned and was walking toward the door.

Wait!

The door shut quietly, not even a slam. And then Trevor was gone.

And when Skyler’s breath came back to him, it came in a painful gasp that sent him crashing to his knees.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there. How long he’d forgotten how to move, how to walk, how to be a person. He was nothing. For minutes or hours, maybe days.

Then he remembered he had liquor. He might have crawled to the kitchen, his legs too weak to hold him, but he grabbed a bottle.

And he had his guitar. Somewhere. It was hard to think of where, but eventually he found it, and he had music. He always had music.

Music didn’t leave.

He played clumsily, fingers trying to remember how this worked. Then he found his voice and sang. It hurt so much, but he sang until his throat was shot, and then he drank some more and sang some more.

It wasn’t a happy song.

Because the sun had left him, and Skyler was cold here on the floor. But the alcohol made him warm, and the strings cut painfully into his fingers, so he knew he was still alive.

The last thing he remembered was recording the song onto his phone and hitting send.