and left the suite, making my way down seven floors until I got to my own room. I was flying out in the morning, back to Newburgh and my date with Jonas. And Sean would take a day to recover and then head out on his tour bus to the next stop.
♪♫♪
The next two weeks, Jonas started calling me more often. I felt him loosen up and let his guard down, wanting to get together every couple days.
Time with Jonas was exactly what I needed, and I immersed myself in it.
He was a breath of fresh air and a down comforter all in one. Even though he had history—deployed-in-a-war-zone history—he carried himself with a lightness that I envied. I couldn’t tell if he came by it naturally, or if it was home-grown among his stellar parents and big family. Either way, I craved the emotional reprieve that being with him gave me.
In contrast, Sean had always left me constantly on edge. He wallowed in his history. He kept it close, used it for inspiration, and thus carried it with him everywhere. And since much of his history was tied to mine, I found myself stuck in the past, living through the worst of it on a constant loop as I prayed that next week and next month wouldn’t bring a new worst into the mix.
So the name of the game was distraction, and boy was Jonas good at distracting me. He loved to go out and do things. Hikes, botanical gardens, rock climbing gyms, museums. It didn’t feel like he was trying to be impressive. It just felt like he wanted the experiences and was excited to share them with me.
And if those experiences happened to take me away from all the hype and excitement surrounding my best friend, then that was all the better. Otherwise, I would have been making myself crazy, thinking about those pills that he’d taken backstage, thinking about all the things he could be taking while I kept my distance, trying to maintain my sanity.
The morning of another concert rolled around and I pulled out my phone, sending off a quick “Good luck!” to Sean so that he would know I was rooting for him. That night, he sent me a photo of himself, his head on a pillow, with a simple “Good night” under it. I let out a stuttering breath as relief washed through me. He was letting me know that he wasn’t out drinking—or doing something even more stupid.
Some of my tension ebbed and I went back to life, doing my best to focus on the positive and not run worst-case scenarios through my head constantly.
A couple days later, Jonas and I decided to do a more traditional going-out-to-dinner date. We met at an Italian place owned by an Italian family, and the minute I opened the menu, I knew I was a goner. I wanted to try everything.
“So, what do you think?” Jonas asked, looking over the top of his menu at me with what I could only call nervousness.
“I think I’m in trouble.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m pretty sure I will not be able to physically contain everything that I want to eat here.”
He grinned. “It really is amazing.”
“Do you come here often?”
“Fairly. It’s one of my favorites, but I don’t come as often as I’d like because I don’t want to wear it out, you know?”
“Yeah, I get that. So, what do you recommend for a first timer?”
“Spaghetti and meatballs,” he said without having to think about it.
I scrunched up my nose. “Really?” It seemed too basic.
“Trust me. The guy who owns the place, it’s his grandmother’s recipe. And they really live up to the hype.”
I decided to trust him. We had calzone rolls for an appetizer, which were amazing, and we enjoyed talking with the thickly-accented waitress who happened to be the wife of the owner. I was impressed with how they seemed to be in no rush at all, like they wanted to get to know everyone who came to visit their little corner of the world.
When our meals arrived, I dove in and discovered that yes, the meatballs really were that incredible, while Jonas practically inhaled his penne with rose sauce and sausage.
My phone vibrated where it sat on the table beside my plate and I glanced at it. My smile fell. My chest tightened, and I felt the blood drain from my face.
Randy was calling me, and there was only one reason that Randy called me.