Page 16 of The Long Refrain (Sweet Southern #4)

16

NOLAN

FEbrUARY 2028

“ S o when you’re out on the stage, you disassociate?” Maggie, my therapist, asks as if we have not gone over this a million fucking times already.

“Yes,” I say through gritted teeth.

She smiles benignly at me. “Nolan, when else do you disassociate?”

I clench and unclench my hands to contain the rage. “Only on stage.”

“Never any time else?”

I stare at her for a few moments before flushing and looking away. “Sometimes during sex, that’s why… That’s why I liked the pain element. Because it would stop me from doing that so much and keep me in the moment. And then, of course when someone gives me negative feedback. There’s this loop in my head sometimes that if someone doesn’t like something I’ve created, or if they have a suggestion, then it feels like they’re telling me I’m a useless piece of shit and I should kill myself.”

“And the loop in your head, you disassociate during it?”

I nod even though it annoys me. “Yes, sometimes.”

“We haven’t talked much about your childhood yet. I know that in your own words, your parents dropped you off at your grandma’s as a child and then left. They never came back?”

“No,” I say firmly because I hate my parents. “Not even when Grandma died.”

“But you know they’re alive?”

I shrug. “I assume so. I’ve never checked. Both of them were addicts, and I think my mom took pills while pregnant… it was a fucking mess. Grandma loved me; she tried her best, but she was already retired and on a fixed income, and she had another mouth to feed. Then she died when I was a teen.”

“What sort of memories do you have of your parents?”

I try to rack my brain of memories, but truly, there aren’t many. Even as a kid, I could tell my mother never really wanted me, she wanted the drugs more. She kept me clothed and fed, but that was about it. I remember being home alone when I was six years old because I was scared shitless when it rained that night. I told Grandma about it a few days later, and she argued with my mother; then, a week later, I’d been dropped off like a sack of potatoes because I was too annoying to care for. Remembering my father is a little more difficult. I remember dark curls like mine and his hand shaking when he was asleep on the trailer's ratty couch.

“Not many. She wasn’t around much, even when I lived with her.”

“Was she nice?”

I shrug again. “I don’t remember.”

“And the homes you were in from sixteen to eighteen, what were they like?”

“Group homes,” I answer.

“And were they healthy?”

“Well,” I drawl as I cross my legs and lean back on the sofa. “The older boys didn’t take too well to a gay kid that preferred to play guitar suddenly being added to the home. They liked to jump me when I was asleep.”

“That sounds awful. Were you hurt?”

I shrug because it doesn’t matter anymore. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Maggie smiles sweetly, I scrunch my nose up as I stare at her. “Being here now doesn’t negate old pain.”

This is all old news. “You could just google all of this, you know. It’s out there for everyone to know.”

Maggie blinks slowly at me again. “Why would I google my client? You’re here in front of me, in that seat; I want to learn about you from you.”

“No one ever wants to learn about me from me.”

“Is that true for Benji? Harper? Trevor?”

Ugh. She’s so annoying. “No, Maggie. Obviously, it’s not true for them,” I snipe at her.

“Do you think you’ve got a solid group of friends now that care about you and your well-being? And Chris, obviously, he cares for you.”

“I acknowledge that they care for me. Does that make you happy?”

“Does it make you happy?”

My eye twitches at her question. Letting Benji in, letting him really see me has been one of the hardest things I’ll ever do. Now that he’s told me he loves me, and I serenaded him like a total fucking goof, I don’t think there’s any going back. Why does he want me? I’ll never know and I’ll never understand, but for some weird reason, he does. He makes me feel happy and safe, and makes me feel alive. After so many years of feeling dead, it’s a huge change for me.

“It makes me happy that they think I’m worth all this, that Benji’s pure, joyful self sees something in me worth loving.”

“What do you think he sees that’s worth loving?”

I close my eyes tight as my heart almost pounds out of my chest. “I think he just sees me.”

The sun is bright as hell when I step out of the therapist’s office. As always, Benji’s leaning against the borrowed truck, waiting for me to return to him. His smile goes loopy and warm when he spots me, and he opens his arms to let me walk right into them.

“Wanna have lunch with the guys?” Benji asks where his face is buried in my hair.

“Where?”

“Trevor and Beau’s. It’s Wednesday and I guess Beau is off, so Trevor said Beau’s grilling some fish he caught with Lee over the weekend.”

“So many words,” I tease.

Benji’s chuckle is warm and vibrates through me as I clutch him tighter. “Up for it?”

“Mmmm, I guess. I want to go back to the apartment first and change.”

Benji’s hands sneak under my hoodie, well, his hoodie actually, and rest against the cold skin at the small of my back. “I like it when you wear my hoodie.”

“’Cause you’re a caveman.”

“’Cause you’re mine.”

I sigh against his cheek, pulling away with a teasing smile. “Take me home.”

The drive back to the apartment is quiet, but Benji keeps his hand firmly on my thigh, squeezing every now and then to remind me that I’m not alone. He doesn’t need to reassure me though. I know in my bones, because he’s a part of me now, buried so deep that I think if we tried to extricate ourselves from one another, the entire universe might implode. Stardust and all that shit, that’s what Benji and I are made of.

There’s a new car parked in front of Colby and Eli’s house when we roll by toward the mother-in-law suite. I crane my neck to look behind Benji toward the house, this weird, sinking feeling like lead in the pit of my stomach. Hopping out of the truck, I walk toward Colby and Eli’s house slowly, with Benji following along behind me.

The front door opens and Chris walks out, hand held to his eyes to blink at me in the bright sun. “Hey, kid.”

My heart falls out of my chest. “I’m fucked, aren’t I?”

Chris smiles slightly, but it’s off. “Let’s talk.” He glances behind me at Benji, I presume. “Bring Benji. Colby and Eli said we can sit out on their back porch for a while.”

“I was supposed to have lunch… with friends.”

Eli pops out around Chris with a pitying smile. “I’ll bring some fish back for you! Don’t worry about it!”

I turn around to glance at Benji to find him mouthing thank you toward Eli. Benji lifts his hand and I tangle our fingers together, needing the strength of him more than ever right now. When I turn back, I stare at Chris, hoping maybe I can parse the reason he’s here just by the odd slant of his mouth, or even the absence of the glint in his eyes.

Eli bounds down the steps past us, squeezing my arm gently as he goes by to hop into the Jeep in the driveway. The crunch of gravel reaches my ears, but my gaze is caught on Chris as he walks back into the house. Everything feels heavy and slow as I follow him. We all sit down in the chairs on the raised back porch that overlooks the gentle hills beyond, but tension fills the air.

Chris sighs deeply, his salt-and-pepper beard the thickest I’ve ever seen. “I’ve been trying real hard the past few weeks, Nolan, to try to work out a deal that will be best for you.”

“They want me back on tour?”

Chris winces. “They want a tour.”

I rub at my chest. “I can’t go back on stage. It’s… what’s killing me. I can’t. I want to make music, I want to share it with the world, but I can’t tour. I just can’t. I own my songs, they can’t make me.”

Chris leans forward a little, eyebrows furrowed. “You’d still make music? You just don’t want to tour?”

I shake my head furiously, nauseous just at the idea. “I never want to tour again. I’ll make a million albums, I just can’t commit to a tour. Unless… they let me do dive bars. But the arenas and stadiums? Those days are long over. I want a quieter life. I want to live .”

Benji squeezes my fingers tight and I turn my head to look at him. My favorite smile is tugging at his lips, and his cheeks have a splash of crimson on them. Maybe everything I said was more profound to him than any I love you could ever be. Just the acknowledgment that I want the life we’re building together, just us. Well. I can give him that, I think.

“I want to stay here with Benji. I’ll record music at a studio here, but that’s my line. No more tours. I don’t care if they sue me… if they say I’m a piece of shit. I don’t care, Chris. I can’t…” My throat itches with the urge to cry. I lean forward to brace my elbows against my knees as I cover my face. “Chris, I have to fucking stand up for myself one time in my life. You have to help me do this. I can’t go back, it’ll kill me. You know how much it kills me. I can’t, please.”

It’s not Benji’s arms that wrap around me, but Chris’s. Warm and solid and he smells like every good memory I’ve ever had since I started this terrifying journey. The only person who’s ever stuck up for me has been Chris. The only person who’s ever worried for me before Benji and my newfound family was Chris. I hold on to him as hard as I can, crying into his neck as he shushes me like he probably does his own children.

Once I stop sobbing, Chris pulls away to clutch my face hard. “I’ll make your dreams come true. I always do, don’t I? They can demand a tour all they want, but I’ll make it happen for you. Make you happy. I want to see you happy, so much. Nolan, I…” Chris clears his throat awkwardly as tears gather in his eyes. “You’re like one of my own. Seeing you… like that always killed me. And you look so happy here, you’re healing. I won’t let them take that away from you. I’ll get the lawyers involved and we’ll draw something new up. You’ll start a new life here, and you’ll be happy. Promise me you’ll be happy?”

I wipe my runny nose against my arm and give him a trembling smile. “I’m going to fucking try so hard, Chris.”

Chris clears his throat again before pressing a hard kiss to my forehead. “Let me call the label. I’m going to stay in town until I figure this shit out. But I’ll stay out of your hair.”

“Wait!” I yell as he stands up. He looks down at me in confusion, glancing between me and Benji. “Maybe… maybe the three of us can get dinner sometime. Just, no work shit. Just… us.”

Chris's lips turn up in a beaming smile. “I’d love that, kid.” He pats my head once, then sighs softly. “I’m staying at a hotel in Orlando. I’ll see what I can do over the next few days. But now that I know what you really want, I have something to work with.” He starts to walk away, then pauses, turning to look back at me. “They wanted to force you back on tour with a therapist and shit. I told them to go fuck themselves, that’s what I came here to tell you.”

The minute Chris is out of sight, I fucking lose my shit. Like always, Benji’s there to hold me together when I feel like I’m going to fall the fuck apart. I can’t say how long we sit there with me sobbing and Benji cradling me against his chest, murmuring things I can’t even make out, but know they’re probably the most comforting words in the entire world. Everything about Benji is a comfort. Strong and solid, the wall that holds me up when the entire world tries to beat me down.

“Benji,” I say, voice shaking.

“Yeah, angel?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Benji pulls away to cup my cheeks between his palms, his thumbs sliding under my eyes to wipe away my years. His eyes are so vivid and bright that it’s like looking into a perfectly cloudless sky, or the lightest Caribbean water in the world.

“I’m in love with you too. Deeply and darkly.” He brushes a soft kiss to my mouth that holds more weight than any word he could ever say. “Two halves of the same whole, you and I. Just us.”

“Just us,” I repeat as I lean hard against his body again.

The sun hangs low in the sky by the time Eli returns, but this time he isn’t alone. Trevor, Beau, Jackson, and Harper follow along behind him out onto the porch. Eli smiles shyly at me as he sets a covered plate of food down on the table in front of us.

“We thought maybe you could use some friends,” Eli says sweetly. “So we brought food and ourselves.”

I’m going to fucking cry again. Jesus. Benji squeezes my neck hard as I dip my head so that they all can’t see how much it means to me.

“So, about that foursome,” Jackson says awkwardly, breaking a loud laugh out of me. I laugh so hard that I snort, covering my mouth with my hand as the giggles erupt out of me. Soon everyone is laughing, even stoic, usually quiet Beau.

“Benji?” I ask quietly.

“Yeah?”

I lean forward to kiss his cheek. “Will you go grab my guitar?”

Benji’s grin is wide and warm, without a word he disappears around the house like the doting lover he is for me. Harper takes the empty seat vacated by Benji.

“On a scale of wanting to die to life is grand, what are we feeling today?” Harper asks, eyes glinting with mischief.

“A warm hot dog at a baseball game,” I answer honestly.

Harper whistles happily and elbows me in the ribs. “You’re feeling good!” Harper leans forward to grab the plate off the table, removing the tin foil from the top. Crispy fish, some sort of mixed rice, and the biggest-looking cupcake I’ve ever seen. “Beau grills the best fish. The cupcake is from Bee’s, my favorite, the double chocolate.”

I swallow hard at the sight of the offering. “Thank you.”

Harper waves off my gratitude. “I know what it’s like to need help, but fucking hating to ask for it. Also, it was mostly Eli.”

Benji returns with my guitar case in tow and stows it behind the couch. He dips down to kiss my forehead, before heading over to sit beside Jackson. I dig into the still warm food, letting it settle in my belly and in my bones. It’s nice to be cared for, even if I’m not quite used to it.

Once I’m finished with the food, I set the plate on the table, and sit back on the couch with Harper beside me. I busy myself with getting my guitar out of the case for a little while, ignoring the fact that the others are more than likely watching me.

“Still wanna sing some Hannah Montana?”

Harper’s grin could power entire cities. “Nah. Let’s sing one of your favorites.”

“You probably won’t know it.”

“I probably will,” Harper promises as he shifts closer to me.

Honey settles at his feet, lies down, and rests her head on my foot. When I glance up, Jackson is staring at us with some weird emotion in his eyes that I can’t name. Benji practically has hearts in his eyes and I fight the urge to scowl at him. Instead, I smile softly and glance back down to the guitar. The chords are as easy as breathing, I’ve played this song so many times.

It takes Harper a few moments, but surprisingly he does know the song. That earns him a lot of points in my book. Through the first chorus, I glance up to find Benji singing along as well. And soon everyone is singing along to “Times Like These” by the Foo Fighters. Something inside me clicks into place as we all finish the song. Life is about finding your people, finding your home, and somehow I totally lucked out with this group of men who have accepted me as their own. And I’ve somehow lucked out with Benji.

Maybe luck has nothing to do with it. For once in my life, maybe the universe took pity on me and gave me something good to hold on to for myself.

As we all finish, Jackson cups his hands around his mouth and shouts. “‘Free Bird!’”

Benji shoves Jackson’s head so hard it looks painful. “Fucking idiot.”

“It’s a good song!”

“My boyfriend isn’t playing ‘Free Bird.’”

“How about ‘Landslide’?” I call out, and everyone grins and smiles.

It’s full dark by the time we head back to the garage apartment. Benji flips some of the lights on and stows my guitar back in the living room. I watch the long, strong line of his back move under his shirt, watch the way his shoulders bunch as he stands to turn around, to watch me in the soft, warm light of the lamps.

He slowly crosses the space between us to stand in front of me, like a gift from the gods. I reach for him and he tugs me into his arms, where I’m held and safe and no longer so very alone.

He smells like he always does, like sunshine, strength, and like maybe he stole a spray of my cologne this morning. Maybe his caveman tendencies are wearing off on me because I like that he smells like me. I like that I’m a part of him and that he’ll never shake me loose, never be free of me.

“I want to build a life here with you,” I tell him quietly, my voice so soft that even I barely hear it.

“Angel, what do you think we’ve been doing since we came here? We’ve already started.”

“Yeah?”

Benji nods and presses a kiss to my temple. “Yeah. Wanna build a home with me too? Maybe get a dog that’ll go on runs with me and keep me out of your hair when you need to write a song?”

Warmth fills my chest as I picture it. A farmhouse on a couple of acres with a fire pit out back. A house full of love and photos of Benji and me from our escapades around the world when we get the urge and decide to travel somewhere new. Waking up every morning tangled with Benji, being kissed by him whenever he wants. Breakfast in bed as I write a new song from the comfort of our messy sheets that smell like us.

“Yeah, Benji, I want all of that.”

Benji squeezes me tighter as he says, “I’ll give you the world, angel.”

And I know without a doubt that he’s telling the truth.