Page 8 of Pretty When It Burns (When The Lights Go Down #1)

Chapter six

"Mad World" - Gary Jules

Grayson

The next morning, I woke up feeling more at peace with myself than I thought I would when I fell asleep the night before. I still have a lot to think about, but I don’t have to do it all right now. I’ll take it one day at a time, one step at a time, and hope the right answer will come to me.

I played my entire heart out last night at the show.

All the emotions that have built up over the past few days—Mia showing up, how I felt about my relationship with Lily ending, and my sister telling me she’s planning on moving to LA—poured out onto the stage as I let it all go.

Pulling myself out of bed, still riding a little bit of the high from last night, I make myself somewhat presentable before heading out of my bedroom.

“Joey,” I call from outside my sister’s door. “Come out here.”

Within a few seconds, my sister emerges, once again looking more like a model than a real person. I don’t even want to start thinking about how long it takes her to look like that everyday. She and I are so different, I honestly don’t know how we’re related sometimes.

“Hey, Gray,” she smiles. “What’s up?”

“Let’s go get some food, just us,” I offer as we walk down the hallway towards the living area.

Johanna seems pleased with the idea of the two of us doing something together, which should’ve been my first red flag.

I try to avoid one-on-one time with her because it almost always leads to a conversation I don’t want to have.

Hopefully, Johanna won’t ask too many questions, but I already know that’s wishful thinking.

I’m also hoping to avoid telling her about me and Lily’s split—or talking about our Mom—but her moving here is going to make that difficult.

It’s also going to be difficult to move on if I keep trying to hide it from everyone.

We end up at a restaurant I wouldn’t have been caught dead at with anyone else.

My head aches at the thought of the good amount of money I’m about to drop on mediocre, overpriced food, but I suck it up and just go with it.

The last thing I want is to pick a fight with my sister when she’d only been here less than twenty-four hours.

We sit down and order. So far, it’s actually going pretty well. We make small talk and Johanna actually doesn’t ask too many personal questions, mostly just talking about herself and what’s new in her life until the food gets here.

“So,” I begin, not sure how to start. “I need to tell you something, and it’s kind of important.”

“Hit me,” Johanna says, swirling her straw around in her drink with her fingers.

“Lily and I are splitting up,” I tell her. “I know you’re probably devastated about that.”

That’s sarcasm.

Lily and Johanna never got along. From the minute they met, Johanna felt like it was Lily’s life mission to take me away from her. Lily tried with her at first, but it eventually became clear to her that nothing she could say or do would change Johanna’s mind about her.

Johanna stops and looks up at me. “Did you finally realize what I’d been trying to tell you about her all these years might have a little bit of validity?”

“Sure. I mean, you know I only married her to piss you off.”

I roll my eyes. Leave it to my sister to make my divorce about her.

“You should really call Mom, Gray,” Johanna says lightly; she knows this is the only thing I would want to talk about less than I want to talk about my divorce.

“Johanna,” I sigh, the frustration thick in my voice.

“If Mom wants to talk to me so badly, you tell her that she can call me and tell me herself. She’s made it very clear she doesn’t approve of what I’ve done with my life.

Beyond that, I’ve told you time and time again—I can’t stand it when you tell her all of my personal shit after you visit.

I love you, Jo, but you are going to have to accept that Mom and I are never going to see eye to eye on this. ”

This conversation isn’t new to me at all. It always starts and ends the exact same way, and the guilt of pushing my mother away only gets worse with every exchange.

“It’s different this time,” Johanna murmurs, so softly that I almost don’t hear her. “You don’t know what it’s been like.”

I haven’t seen this side of her in a very long time, at least since we were kids. I almost forgot it existed, who she really is: my little sister who, although she’d never admit it, needs someone to hold her head up above the waves.

“It’s not really about work, is it?” I ask, finally putting the pieces together about her move. “You’re trying to distance yourself from her, and you’re using your modeling to do it.”

Johanna nods, and the tears begin pooling in her eyes.

I put more than enough cash to cover the bill on the table, grab my sister’s hand, and get her to the privacy of the car just before she has a full-on meltdown in the middle of the restaurant.

“She’s sick, Gray,” she admits once she pulls it together enough to talk. “She won’t do anything about it, and I can’t watch her die.”

So, it’s come to this.

I put my head in my hands and try to feel something, anything, other than the guilt of not feeling anything at all.

How am I supposed to feel?

My mother hasn’t been a part of my life in over a decade.

“What’s killing her?” I ask finally, my head still in my hands, unable to look at Johanna.

“Pancreatic cancer, stage four,” she tells me softly. “She’s got maybe six months left, if that.”

I can’t feel anything. I want to. I should. But I don’t.

“Tell her I’m sorry,” I say slowly. “But it doesn’t change anything for me.”

“I know she said she didn’t support your music all those years ago, but she has every single album you guys have ever put out.

She’s listened to every single song. I know for a fact that she’s seen you on tour, because I was the one who took her to the nearest shows.

I’ve seen her watching your interviews online.

She cares about you, Grayson. She may have a funny way of showing it, but damn it, she cares about you.

For God’s sake, the only reason she didn’t come to your wedding was because you didn’t tell either of us it was happening.

Not telling Mom was one thing, and I know you don’t see it this way, but you really did choose Lily when you didn’t tell me.

I don’t think you should be surprised that I’m happy to see her go. ”

“Why has she never called to tell me any of that?” I demand, conveniently glossing over her comments about my wedding. “God, Joey, I just don’t understand her. I’m not Dad. I’m not a drug addict, and I didn’t leave her for music. She left me because of music.”

“It’s been too long,” Johanna says. “You would’ve never answered. She couldn’t just call you up now that you’re successful.”

I can’t stand it when my little sister is right.

I wouldn’t have wanted my mother to suddenly show up in my life again only after I’d proved her wrong, only after I’d made it, after I had everything I ever wanted.

I shove the keys in the ignition and begin driving back to the house.

Despite the past, at this moment, all I want is to be alone.

I knew my feeling of peace from this morning wouldn’t last for long, I just thought it would have lasted longer than a day.

For once, I’m grateful we don’t have a show to play tonight so I can spend some time alone and try to think about what I’m going to do next.

But what is there to do now?

Back in my bedroom, I pick one of my many records off the wall—something appropriately sad—and place it on my record player.

Damn, I’m pathetic.

I lay down on my bed and stare up at the ceiling, letting the music flow through me as my mind runs blank. Thinking isn’t doing me any favors, so I just stop.

A soft knock at my door brings me out of my daze. I know who it is before I even tell them to come in. No one in this house knocks anymore, and no one does anything quietly for that matter.

“Hey,” Mia murmurs, her voice low and careful as she peeks her head into my room. “I was just checking to see if you’re okay.”

I don’t move. “What makes you think I wouldn’t be okay?”

My tone comes out sharper than I intend it to, clipped and tired. I wince internally, waiting for her to stiffen or back away. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she steps inside, closes the door behind her without hesitation, and walks toward my bed like she belongs here. Without a word, she crawls up beside me, the scent of her conditioner—sweet, floral, and a little too seductive—settling between us like it had every right to be there.

“Well, for one,” she says, glancing at me sideways. “You’re lying here listening to the Mad World single on repeat—loudly, I might add. If that’s not a cry for help, I don’t know what is.”

A reluctant smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “It fits the mood, okay?”

“Like I said—a cry for help,” she repeats with a gentle nudge of her elbow into my side.

I look over at her, finally allowing myself to take her in.

Even in her comfy clothes, just a plain white v-neck and gray drawstring sweatpants, she’s effortlessly gorgeous. I’ve never met anyone who looks as good as she does without trying.

Now she’s closer than she’s ever been—so close that I can see the little bit of mascara smeared under one eye, the little shimmer of moisture above her lip, and the calm certainty of her expression. She isn’t asking anything of me. She’s just here.

“Would you… I mean, if you want to…” I swallow, suddenly unsure. “Would you mind just sitting here with me?”

There’s no hesitation. “Of course.”

Mia stands, and something in me tenses—irrational, fleeting, a quiet panic that she might actually leave.

But she doesn’t. She walks over to the wall where my records are lined up in perfect rows, and skims the titles like she’s done it a hundred times before.

She pulls out 808s & Heartbreak, raises an eyebrow at me like she knows exactly what she’s doing, and swaps the record without a word.

When she climbs back into the bed, the panic dissipates and the calm returns.

She settles back into the space beside me, close enough that our shoulders just barely brush, close enough that I can feel the warmth of her radiating against my skin.

Her presence fills the room with something weightless and grounding all at once.

We don’t talk. Don’t need to. The low pulse of the music wraps around us like a blanket, filling the silence that neither of us seems eager to break.

I just listen to the sound of her breathing, the steady rhythm syncing with the beat of the song quieting something inside me that I hadn’t realized was there.

This is something I could never do with Lily.

She never sat still. Never stopped talking. Always needed a reaction or a response. There was no time to just stop, or think, or breathe.

But Mia… Mia is different in almost every way.

She doesn’t need an explanation. Doesn’t push for answers I’m not ready to give. She just exists beside me—patient, unwavering, and present. Like she understands that her presence alone is enough. Like she’s known it all along.

Her thigh brushes against mine. I don’t move.

I like the way she feels.

For a moment, I let myself forget about everything that makes her complicated. The timing. The history. The fact that I have no business wanting her so badly.

Because right now, she belongs in this bed. Right here with me. I don’t want to fight that anymore.

It feels like something I could do every day for the rest of my life.

Maybe—just maybe—she feels it, too.