Page 22

SEVENTEEN

WESLEY

Making amends:

Zed

Mitch

Kas

Tech

Mr and Mrs. Collins

Jaxon

I look down at the list of people and zero in on the only name that isn’t crossed out. I’m not sure when I’ll make amends with Tech. I’ve talked to Mirrie about it, and she said I shouldn’t push myself to do it, or it may trigger my urge to use.

He was a pain in my ass the entire time he was a part of Lana’s Mischief.

We worked well together in the studio, and he was able to contribute to the band in a positive way, but I didn’t fucking like the guy.

I overheard him once asking the label if I could start playing bass so he could sing lead, but they informed him that it was my band, and he wouldn’t be able to usurp that.

I’m sure he was pretty fucking happy I was almost ousted. Mitch and Kas have my back though.

God, I miss them. I didn’t think I would, since we weren’t as close as we used to be. But I miss their familiar presence. I saw them practically every day since I was sixteen—it’s weird I haven’t laid eyes on them since I packed my shit in my car and drove up here.

Feeling lonelier than I ever have, I pull out my phone and video call Mitch. Kas never answers his phone, so I don’t even attempt to reach out to him. They’re usually together, so I should be able to talk to them both.

Just as I suspected, when Mitch answers the phone, Kas is in the frame. “Holy shit!” Mitch exclaims. “Did you find us out?”

“Huh?” I ask, resting against the couch.

“We were going to surprise you. How long will it take you to get to Seattle?”

I sit up. “You’re here?”

“Just landed about thirty minutes ago,” Kas says. “Heading to our hotel. We were going to unpack our shit and give you a call to meet us. Guess you read our minds.”

Emotions course through me—wariness, apprehension, fear, but most of all, happiness. I’m…happy they’re here. And glad they still want to see me. I have to cough three times to clear the lump in my throat “Y’all came to see me?”

“Yep. Now getcha ass up here. We’re at the Plymouth Hotel.”

“Gimme an hour and I’ll be there.” I hang up and rush around my room to throw on some clothes.

Once I’m dressed, I grab my keys and my cell and head out the door.

After a few seconds, I notice the smile I had on my face when I was on the phone with Mitch and Kas hasn’t left.

I didn’t realize until this moment that I need them.

They’ve been constants in my life, and now that empty feeling I’ve had within me is filled since they still want to be around me.

When I slide behind the wheel of my car, I shoot Jaxon a text, that smile still front and center on my face.

After I spent the night at his house after my breakdown, I rattled off my number to him before I did the walk of shame, even though he offered me a ride. It was so embarrassing that I slept in his lap all night. Poor Jaxon had to be uncomfortable, barely moving so he wouldn’t wake me.

It was sweeter than I could put into words.

Me: Heading to Seattle to meet up with Mitch and Kas. They flew in to see me.

A few moments later, my phone vibrates in the cupholder. I scoop it up and read his message.

Jax: That sounds like fun. Excited?

I shoot off a text before I start up my car and begin my drive.

Me: Yeah, and a little nervous.

My phone rings through my Bluetooth, and I answer it as I turn onto the interstate. “Hey,” I say to Jaxon.

“Hey. You okay?”

Any other time, if someone insisted on asking if I was okay all the time, I’d lose my shit. But Jaxon isn’t asking because he thinks I need someone to constantly check in—he really cares about the answer.

“Yeah. Just…I’m not who they thought I was all the years we’ve known each other. I’m sure every interaction they had with me, besides when they saw me in rehab, was when I was on something. I’m nervous because they might not like who I really am.”

“You haven’t changed that much.” I can imagine his lopsided grin, which makes me chuckle. “I think they know who you are, Wes.” He pauses, and I can almost hear him gearing up to ask something. “Do you want me to come? I can…sit with you for support.”

As much as I would love that—I love any time spent with Jaxon—I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “No. I have to do this alone. I have to see if they’re really my friends or if we only hung out because of the band.”

“They’re your friends, Wesley. Don’t doubt that.”

I chuckle. “You don’t know them.”

“Don’t need to. I know you. And you’re a good person. The drugs didn’t change that. Call me when you get home so I know you’re safe, okay?”

“Okay,” I croak, choked up from his words.

The drugs and booze had such a hold on me I don’t know who I am.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been trying to learn myself without the drugs and without music.

I’ve learned that I love to exercise and fucking yoga.

Before rehab, I never would have attempted it, but I find myself doing yoga every morning after I wake up.

I also learned I like writing poetry. It’s almost like writing songs, but I don’t have a string of melodies floating in my mind. Most of what I write is morbid as fuck, but it really speaks to me and gets all the negative thoughts out.

We hang up, and I try to pass the time humming Lana’s Melody.

There’s something about it that nags at the back of my mind, but I can’t put a finger on it.

It’s a soothing song, calming the frayed edges of my nerves.

I can see why Jaxon says it made him feel better after Lana died. The tune is calming.

An hour later, I pull up to the Plymouth Hotel.

Kas and Mitch texted and said they’d be in the restaurant downstairs.

There’s a bar inside, so I asked if we could go elsewhere to eat.

I think I’m strong enough to resist, but I don’t want to tempt myself.

I associate Mitch and Kas with a fast lifestyle, and I don’t want to fall back into old habits.

Shortly after I step into the lobby, I text Mitch that I’m there. I pull my hoodie tighter over my head and adjust my glasses. It’s a shitty disguise, but it’ll help. I keep my head down so no one walking in or out will notice me immediately.

I hear footsteps from my left and look up seeing my two best friends walking toward me. A wide grin stretches my face, and a soft exhale leaves my lips. I’ve really missed them.

They both stop in front of me, mirroring my expression. I feel like shit that I haven’t been as open with them. I barely allowed them to touch me unless I knew it was coming. There’s nothing I can do about that—Mirrie told me I will probably never want unsolicited touch, and that’s okay.

Since they look so unsure, I make the first move, opening my arms. Mitch launches himself at me and pulls me off my feet. A surprised chuckle bursts from my lips as I pat his back. Kas is gentler, giving me a one-armed hug.

Mitch steps back and eyes me, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets. “It’s good to see you. You look great, man. All healthy and shit.”

I duck my head, my cheeks heating. “Thanks. I guess that’s what happens when I start eating in the morning instead of having vodka for breakfast.”

They glance at each other nervously, as if they don’t know if they should laugh or not.

“Sorry,” I say nervously. “I shouldn’t joke about it.”

Kas shakes his head. “No, it’s cool. We don’t want you to feel bad by poking fun at your addiction.”

“We want you to stay clean,” Mitch says, subdued. I’ve never heard that tone from him, so I know he’s serious.

A lightness settles in my chest. Like Jaxon said, they really are my friends. The drugs may have clouded my interactions with them, but that doesn’t mean they no longer care about me.

Feeling better about our day out, I say, “Let’s get some food. Y’all can tell me what’s been going on in your lives.”

Mitch falls into step on my right while Kas walks on my left. “Not much. We’ve mostly been resting. We had a tour every year since our second year as Lana’s Mischief. It didn’t seem so bad until we had time to slow down. I’ve missed a lot of sleep.”

Kas adds, “And normal shit. I’ve been binge-watching a TV show. It’s about two brothers that hunt ghosts and demons and shit. It has fifteen seasons with like twenty episodes a season. I’ve been fucking devouring them.”

“I need a new show to watch,” I tell him. “What is it?”

He tells me the name, and I hum, remembering scrolling past it on a streaming service. I see the appeal of the show for an entirely different reason. The taller of the brothers in that show reminds me of Jaxon, except Jaxon has different colored eyes and facial hair.

We stop at a pretty empty restaurant a few blocks from the hotel. It’s no use pretending we’re not Lana’s Mischief, since neither Kas nor Mitch have bothered to disguise themselves, so I remove my glasses and push back my hood. Hopefully no one bothers us until we’ve eaten. I’m starving.

Our server stares like he’s never seen humans before and has to ask Mitch to repeat his order twice as he tries his damndest not to fanboy all over us. Mitch and Kas take it in stride, used to dealing with fans.

Not me. I never interacted with them with a clear mind, and the times I did, I wasn’t very nice to them. I did meet and greets and signed autographs because I had to, not because I cared about our fans. It was shitty, now when I reflect on it.

After he takes our orders, I sit back in the booth and look between Kas and Mitch. “I missed you two.”

“Yeah, we know,” Mitch says, winking. “That’s why we came. We may have missed you too.”

“And wanted to check on you in person,” Kas adds. “We’ve texted but decided to see you in the flesh. It’s kinda weird not seeing you all the time.”

“I was just thinking that,” I tell them honestly. “That’s why I called. Hadn’t seen your ugly mugs in weeks.”

“Ugly,” Mitch asks incredulously. “You do remember which of the three of us was voted sexiest man alive, right? ”