Natalie. When she doesn’t pick up after the fifth try, I start the engine and slam the door shut, ready to go after her. I don’t bother taking the time to say goodbye to my brother. I hit the gas and head toward Natalie’s house again, hoping to find her there. I’m not sure why, though, since my brother said her bags were packed.
After driving around town for a couple of hours with no luck, I pull off into a parking lot and beat the shit out of my steering wheel like a goddamn idiot. Once my knuckles are bruised and split open, I head toward the hotel in Vegas where my bandmates are staying, just as promised.
I hate leaving Temecula without Natalie, but what can I do at this point? She’s gone, and although my brother seems to think she’s fallen for me, apparently that’s not enough for her to answer my call.
Maybe he was wrong; that or he just wants to get back at me for going after Natalie. Either way, leaving without her is a shit feeling I never want to experience again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
MADDEN
Last night was rough as shit, and sleep didn’t come no matter how hard I tried to force it. I kept looking at my phone hoping to hear from Natalie. Once three a.m. hit, I threw my phone across the hotel room and cracked the screen to shit.
“You sure you’re good, man?” Landon questions, giving me a concerned look. “You haven’t touched liquor since you got here, and you always have a couple of shots before going on stage. I don’t know whether to be concerned or happy.”
“Leave him be, fucker.” Hendrix slaps our drummer’s shoulder. “Clearly, he’s in his head about this Natalie chick. Don’t stress him out right before we’re about to go on stage. He’s good.”
I stand from the couch and empty half a water bottle, my nerves causing my hands to shake. I’ve been trying to reach Natalie since last night and she’s yet to return my calls. Going on stage to perform for a bunch of screaming fans is the last thing I want to do right now.
“I’m ready.” I look down at my busted-up phone in my hand one last time before tossing it onto the couch, walking away when there’s still nothing from the girl I love. “Let’s get this shit over with.”
I ignore the flashing of cameras and random screams of admiration as we head toward the stage. I’d rather smash this guitar than play it right now, but I place the strap over my shoulder anyway. It’s just a few hours, and then I can get on the road and head back to Temecula. I don’t care if I have to wait a week for her to show back up at her house. I’ll sleep in my goddamn truck if I have to.
The moment we hit the stage the screams are so loud they’re deafening. Usually, I’d at least be buzzed by this point, and on some nights, halfway to fucked-up. Being on stage sober is a new experience for me, and my nerves are going crazy as I look around at the hundreds of faces, realizing the one I want to see the most is nowhere to be found. Not that I expected her to be here. I haven’t seen Natalie at a concert since that first one two years ago.
“What’s up, Vegas! Make some noise if you guys are ready to party tonight.” The screams grow louder, girls close to the stage jumping up and reaching out in an attempt to touch me, so I bend down and hold my hand out letting a few of them grab me as they scream out that they love me. “Hell yeah! Let’s get this night started with a little something you guys know well.”
More screams and whistles fill the room as the band begins playing “Without You” but starts to die down the moment I begin singing, everyone joining in.
The lyrics leave my lips effortlessly; although, my attention is elsewhere in the crowd, my concentration shot as I scan the faces for Natalie again. It’s fucking stupid, yet I can’t stop myself from doing it, my anger growing toward the end of the fifth song at not finding her.
Chances are she’s gone for good. I might’ve fucked up that night by pushing her away. What I should’ve done is fought for her. I should’ve followed her to her house and knocked down her door to