She made it sound so easy, but I knew it wasn’t. Just the thought of picking up the phone and telling the guys I was wrong…about everything…made me feel sick. And Anna…I didn’t even know where to begin with her. How could I do this? I wasn’t even sure I had the necessary skills to be all repentant and shit. “How do I do that?” I murmured, feeling defeated. I was really beginning to hate feeling that way.

I’d moved my head so I wasn’t looking into her eyes anymore, but she moved hers until I had no choice but to meet her gaze. “You take that pride that you hold on to so hard, and you shove it down a deep, dark hole. You show them something real. Be human. Be fallible. Be flexible. Be humble.”

None of that sounded easy. Or like me. I tended to be the opposite of all those things. It was simpler to be an awesome god who could do no wrong. Because…admitting I was wrong…was complete and utter torture. I didn’t think I could do it. “So…you want me to be lame, is what you’re saying?”

Smiling, she clapped me on the back. “That’s entirely optional, but it might help.”

A small chuckle escaped me, and it felt good to release it. I felt like I hadn’t laughed in years. And, if I were honest, it had been a while. I don’t think I’d let out an honest laugh since I’d parted ways with the band. That’s when everything had gone downhill for me, and now I was so far down, it was hard to see my way back up.

“Thank you,” I told her. “For everything. I think you’re the only one who gives a shit.”

Chelsey rubbed my back. “No, more people care about you than you think. But…it’s like your ego is a force field…it pushes people back, instead of letting them in. You’d see the world differently if you opened yourself up to the possibility that…”

She bit her lip while she stared at me, and I saw a grin growing in the gesture. “That what?” I asked, knowing whatever her answer was, it was going to be smart-assed.

She released her lip and the smile broke free. “That you’re an imperfect person…just like the rest of us.”

Six months ago I would have wholeheartedly denied that, but now…“Yeah…I know. Brat.” I bumped her shoulder, and laughing, she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed.

“I love you, Griffin, and I know everything is going to be okay.”

Closing my eyes, I prayed she was right.

Chapter 21

Reality

I was woken up Monday morning by a buzzer going off in my ear, and I decided right then and there that that was not a dignified way for a human being to be roused from sleep. If I ever had the opportunity, I would hunt down the sick son of a bitch who had invented the damn thing and drive a couple of spikes through his forehead. How does that feel, fucker?

Shucking off my covers, I painstakingly rose to my feet. God, I hated mornings. There was no good reason for them. My body felt tight, my head was throbbing, and my knees cracked when I stood up. Man, I was getting old. Either that or my body was rebelling against the time. The time, and the task that I was about to do.

I was starting at Dad’s old factory today. Yippee. The money would help me make payments to the bank though, and at the moment, that was more important than the potential suckage of this monotonous job.

Nobody was awake when I stumbled into the kitchen. I thought my parents would be up to see me off, but no, I could hear Dad snoring in his room. In the kitchen, I found a note attached to a small paper bag, the kind I’d used as a kid to take my lunch to school. The note said, “Good luck,” and inside was a ham sandwich, a bag of chips, an apple, and two chocolate chip cookies. Damn. Now I felt like I was eight again.

“Thanks, Mom,” I muttered, grabbing one of the cookies. I popped it in my mouth while I debated adding a beer to my lunch. It was a factory, surely adult pop was allowed if you were on break.

Thinking better of it, I closed up the bag and looked around for my dad’s car keys. He’d told me I could take the minivan to work until I could afford a car of my own. That was a good thing, since biking that far every day would have seriously sucked. It also filled me with an empty hollowness to think of how long I was going to have to be there to afford a car, get my own place…get my shit together. And before I could even think of doing any of that, I needed to make sure Anna and the girls were being taken care of. It was all so surreal. Not that long ago, the money was flowing in so fast, I never even had to think about it. Now I cherished every dime. How had so much changed in such a short amount of time?

When I went outside to start the car, it was still sort of dark outside; even the sun wasn’t fully up yet. Awesome. As I listened to some animal chirping away in the distance, I considered getting in the car and driving back to Seattle. Would that be running away or running home? I had no idea, but I knew it wouldn’t solve my immediate money problems, so I scrapped the idea.

When I got to work, I instantly realized I wouldn’t get through this with any of my dignity still intact. “Okay, grunt, you listening, ’cause I don’t want to have to explain this twice.” I nodded so my “instructor” would get on with the mindless orientation. “You take this wrench, and when this piece comes down your line, you insert ten bolts in these ten holes, then tighten them. You send that piece on its merry way, then start on the next one. Sound like something you can handle, newbie?”

I gave him a blank stare. “Putting in ten bolts and tightening them? Yeah, I think I can manage that.”

He clapped me on the back so hard, I stumbled forward a little. “Great. Don’t mess up the rest of production by being a slow ass. Break is at eleven sharp. Try not to nod off.”

With that, he left me to my menial task. I’ll admit, the first piece was a challenge, and I let out some sailor-worthy curses, especially when I pinched my finger and started bleeding, but by my seven millionth bolt, I could have done it with my eyes closed.

My mind wandered while I worked. I pictured myself onstage at Pete’s, the guys beside me and a horde of adoring fans in front of me. Remembering that time made an ache expand inside my chest. It was painful, and I wanted to think of something else to get rid of it, but I apparently wasn’t done torturing myself, because my mind wouldn’t let go of the memory of hopping offstage.

Matt squeezed my shoulder and told me I’d done awesome. Evan gave me a thumbs-up before wrapping Jenny in a hug, and Kellan gave me a bright smile and asked if I wanted a beer. It felt like a million years ago, and yet, at the same time, it seemed like only yesterday.

With nothing to do with my mind during work, I had daydream upon daydream during my shift. A lot of them were centered on the band, but even more were about my wife. Her eyes filled my mind, her laugh filled my ears, and her body…well, let’s just say it was a good thing the work table was hiding everything below my waist.

I kept picturing moments we’d had together. Our first kiss, dancing in the middle of my old living room. Then pulling her into my bedroom and stripping her bare. Her body had blown my mind. She was everything I loved in a woman, wrapped up in one perfect person. And she was just as dirty as me. She was game for anything I wanted to try, anything I wanted to do. She was exactly what I’d wanted in a partner…and I’d let her leave. As the day wore on, it got harder and harder to remember just why I’d done that. Anna was the right girl for me. She was the only girl for me. Then why are you still here?

By the end of my shift, I wasn’t sure what hurt worse, my head or my hands. They were so raw, it was hard to hold the steering wheel on the drive home; even my blisters had blisters. After the noise from the factory all day, the anticipation of the chaos waiting for me at my parents’ busy house was almost intolerable. Dustin was finally home, and we were all celebrating. I was happy for my sister, but I really wasn’t in a partying mood. My feet felt like lead weights, my arms felt like rubber, and my heart…well, that was just fucked.