Before & After - Nazarea Andrews Page 0,55
been distant. And I'm sorry; I had to be. I had to figure out who I am."
"I know. I'm sorry. I want to give you time—" He sighs. Shakes his head. "No, I don't. I want to take you home, lock you in our room, and fuck you until you can't remember a time when we weren't together. Until I'm a part of you, so fucking wrapped up in you that there is no you or me. Just us. That's what I've wanted since the day you opened your eyes. But I've given you time and space because I know that what I wanted wasn't what you needed and I love you too much to force you into something."
"You aren't," I protest, and he holds up a hand.
"Let me finish, Peyton," he says.
I fall silent, stung just a little. He huffs out a breath. "I love you. I always will. But I'm not going to force you into this because I do. Not when you can't remember loving me. I love you too much for that. I would walk away and wait for you to come to me. I would wait for you forever, if I had to. But Lindsay doesn't have that kind of patience. She never has. We need you to keep her and our family together. The only person who matters to me the way you do is Scott." His gaze is pleading and sad when he finally lifts those bright blue eyes to look at me. "He's my brother and he's falling apart, Peyton. She's talking about going to her parents’ house. About never coming home. He can't—he can't lose her."
I put my coffee down and lean forward, catching his hand in mine. Squeezing it until his gaze finds mine, so desolate and broken.
I did this. I left him. He's not seeing Lindsay leaving Scott, and how that will fall out. He's remembering me leaving him, and how fucking horrible it will be for his best friend to live through that same nightmare.
I hate that I've done that to him.
"Ok, Rike. Let's go home."
Chapter 25—: Before
It happens a few weeks before Christmas. We’ve been playing for increasingly busier crowds. More nights spent in bars and venues we’ve never been to than in Barrie’s. It’s caused a bit of a strain with him, but I’m following Scott’s lead—this is his dream, and I’ll follow wherever he chooses to chase it.
Ever since we played “Perfect Girl,” we've been growing. It's opened doors for Scott as a singer and me as a songwriter that neither of us expected. And the girls have cheered us along—Linds has worked almost as hard as Scott to find new venues and bands to open for, anything to get more exposure.
Anytime I wonder about her and how she feels about Scott, I remember that.
"See that guy?" she asks now, almost bouncing in her seat. "Black suit, red tie, looks like Simon Cowell's cuter younger brother?" I crane my head and see the dude she's talking about. The guy has been on his phone all night and Scott scowls in his direction. She raps the table sharply with one finger. "He's with an indie label out of Austin, up scouting talent in Nashville. I got a friend to pass him your demo."
"When did we make a demo?" I wonder, and Lindsay flicks me a longsuffering look. I hold up a hand in surrender.
"So he's interested in the guys?" Peyton says curiously.
"Yeah. So do good tonight." She leans into Scott, kissing him before she hops down and scurries for the bar. Peyton follows. They don't do bars alone, and they know we like a minute alone before we take the stage.
There are nerves in Scott's eyes when I look at him, unexpected nerves, and I lean forward. "Same shit, brother. Sing like we're still at Barrie’s.”
"We aren't though," he says, blowing out a breath. "This is real."
I nod. "But it's everything we've been working for. So. Embrace the real shit, dude.”
“The real shit is risky as hell,” he says.
I get it.
It's a risk every time we debut a new song, anytime we do a show anywhere that isn't Barrie's. There's comfort in the familiar old ruts but…"We get to decide who and what we are," I say quietly. Then I stand up and go to where the opening act is winding down, pulling my drumsticks. My koi winks up at me, a brilliant flare of color that grounds me while we ride the crowd's energy.
Scott bounds