Page 39 of Pretty When It Burns (When The Lights Go Down #1)

Chapter thirty-six

"I Think I'm Okay" - Sad Version, mgk

Grayson

“Goodnight, Miami!” I yell over the mic. “You’ve been fucking incredible. Stay charismatic!”

The final roar of the crowd still pulsates in my chest as I tear off my monitors and walk off stage. Sweat clings to my back and every nerve in my body feels like it’s still lit up like a fucking live wire. I just played the biggest show of my life, and it feels incredible. I feel like me again.

The second the lights hit me, everything else faded into the background.

The nerves, the doubt, the weight of everything waiting off stage—it all disappeared.

I was able to lose myself in the music again, in the way the crowd screamed each song right along with us, the way Eric played his solos like he was trying to rip the soul out of his guitar, how Brandon and I kept locking eyes on our shared verses like we were reading each other's minds. Even Tony was going ballistic behind the drums, and no one missed a beat. We had been on fire—exactly the way we should’ve been.

Jake is losing his mind—in a good way this time—already shrieking about how perfect the show had gone to anyone who would listen. In fact, I’m probably going to get tackled the second I make it out of this hallway.

But I can’t stop.

I keep moving, pushing past the production team, through all of the stagehands and staff. I’m looking for my girl.

She’s always the first person I want to see after a show, the anchor that brings me back to earth after the high, the only person I want to spend this moment with. She’d promised me she’d be here, and I know she wouldn’t miss this moment for anything.

Where is she?

I had just seen her, jumping around in the wings with my sister during the show, but she isn’t there now.

She isn’t in the loading tunnel, or the hallway outside the dressing room, or anywhere I expected to see her.

The crew has been very insistent that she stay close for her safety, so when I don’t see her in the dressing room either, I begin to worry.

I pull out my phone to send her a text—Where are you? We did it! I need to see you!

But I don’t end up typing a word.

Because before I can even unlock my screen, I see it.

One Missed Call—Cumberland County Hospice

My thumb hovers over the notification as I close the door to the dressing room behind me. I stare at it so long that I stop hearing the chaos around me.

I know what this is.

I knew this was coming—Johanna and I had just talked about it this afternoon.

But that doesn’t mean I’m ready.

I open my voicemail and the message starts playing automatically, giving me no time to brace myself.

“Hi, this is Katherine from Cumberland County Hospice. Mr. Harris, I know you’re busy, but we’ve been trying to get in touch with you and your sister regarding your mother. It’s urgent, so please give us a call as soon as possible.”

Click.

That’s it.

Just… like that.

I don’t even have to call her back to know what she’s calling about. I feel it in my gut—I just know.

My mother is dead.

I sink into the couch and stare at the floor, clutching my phone in my hand. My heartbeat is too fast. Too loud in my ears. My throat closes and my chest feels like I’ve swallowed fire.

I’d been on stage. My mother had been dying, and I’d been on stage playing fucking Fallout like nothing else mattered.

Just as I’m thinking things can’t possibly get any worse, my phone starts ringing again.

What the fuck now?

The name that lights up the screen is the absolute last one I expect.

Incoming Call: Lily Vance

I debate not answering. I’m not sure why I do. Maybe I just want one more reason to be pissed off.

“Grayson?”

Her voice is soft. Careful. It isn’t the callous, cold version of her I remember—but it still sets my teeth on edge.

“I know you don’t want to hear from me,” she says quickly, before I can change my mind and hang up.

“I know you’re with that photographer girl, not that I’m surprised.

But a hospital called me looking for you saying they couldn’t get ahold of you or your sister.

I must still be listed as your emergency contact somewhere.

Your mom… she passed away tonight. Even with everything that had gone on between us, I just felt like… I wanted to make sure you knew.”

“I know,” I snap before I can control myself.

Something about her mentioning Mia like she knows anything about my life now sends me into a blinding rage.

“I’m not trying to insert myself, I just—” she starts again.

“Just what, Lily?” I bite. “Thought you’d earn a few points for calling? There’s no points to earn. I don’t want this. I sure as hell don’t want it from you.”

“Grayson, don’t you think—”

“No,” I cut her off. “You don’t get to call me out of nowhere and pretend like what you say still matters. I don’t even know why I bothered to pick up this call.”

There's silence. It’s heavy. Awkward. Then, finally, she exhales.

“I’m sorry, Grayson,” she says. “Will you at least let me say that? I’m sorry. For everything. I was your wife once. I just wanted to make sure you got the message.”

“You can say it.” My voice is flat. Final. “Doesn’t make it mean anything.”

I hang up.

The phone drops from my hand and clatters to the floor between my feet. I don’t care if it breaks. Maybe it should. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to hear it ring again.

I sit in the dark, waiting for something—anything—that could bring her back.

Not Lily.

My mom.

I’d give anything for just one more conversation. One more interaction to make sure she knew the past didn’t matter—I forgave her. I loved her.

Then, the door opens. I barely register it, until I hear her voice.

The one voice that should make all the hurt go away.

Mia.

“Hey, rockstar! I—”

I can’t even look at her.

“I missed the call. I was on stage, and I fucking missed it.”

She’s by my side in an instant, cradling me as I come undone in her arms. I don’t care about anything else as I release every tear I’ve swallowed up until this moment.

She holds me like she already knew this was coming, her fingers tracing my spine as she guides us to the couch.

I bury myself in her. Let her hold the pieces together.

Then Johanna comes in, looking as shattered as I feel, mascara streaking down her cheeks, eyes red and face pale. I know she finally saw her phone, too. She sinks to the floor beside us and grabs my hand, anchoring herself to me.

For a long time, no one speaks.

We just hold each other, broken and silent, while the headliner’s opening chords thunder through the venue. The world outside goes on while the world inside us has stopped.

Eventually, I stand. It’s instantaneous, the way something inside me snaps back into place—not healed, just hardened. Like I have to get my shit together and pull myself through this.

“I need to get out of here,” I mutter, mostly to myself.

Mia moves immediately and starts gathering our things. “Okay, we’ll go tell Jake what happened and get on the next flight—”

“What do you mean we?” I ask, and the minute I do, I hate the sound of my own voice. “You’re not coming.”

It’s harsh. Cold. Wrong. But I don’t take it back.

“What?”

She freezes. Her hands still. She lifts her head to look at me with her eyes wide in confusion.

I can’t look at her again. I stare at the floor. At the wall. Anywhere but those damn green eyes.

“Johanna and I need to go and deal with this. You should stay here.”

“Gray,” she whispers, stepping closer to me. “I want to be there. For you. For both of you. Why would you—?”

I put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from getting any closer to me.

“Because I can’t fucking breathe with you there, okay?” My voice shatters the room. “I can’t think. I can’t process it. I can’t fucking fall apart the way I need to if you’re watching me with those eyes, waiting to fix me. I don’t want you to fix me.”

Her lips part, but nothing comes out.

“I need space,” I say again, lower and more dangerous. “I need to do this without you.”

She flinches like I struck her, and although it guts me, I don’t show it. She doesn’t argue anymore, either. She just nods once—a sharp, brittle motion. Her eyes are glassy, but the tears don’t fall. She doesn’t understand, but she accepts it. She’s stronger than I am, even in this.

I hate that I’m the one making her look like this. That I’m the one breaking her.

I know I should take it all back. I should tell her the truth—I saw the missed call from hospice the minute I got off stage. That Lily called immediately after, and it set me off even more. It isn’t really her fault at all that I’m acting like this.

I’m drowning, and she’s the only thing that can save me.

But instead, I turn my back on her.

I leave before I can change my mind.

I leave because if I look at her for one more second, I’ll drop to my knees and never get up again.

I won’t fall apart here. I can’t.

Not when I’ve just torched the only thing I’ve ever truly loved.