Page 107 of This Side of Beautiful

Cedrick zipped up his pants and walked to the sink to wash his hands. “Is that why you’ve been sitting alone all night? She’s fine. She’s not intoxicated. We had a good show. Move on.”

“Since when did we become the band who’ll do anything to perform?”

“Since we have the number one song in the country and the expectations for us are at an all-time high. Janae would’ve never forgiven herself, and neither would the world if she didn’t get on that stage. You can hide in the corners and pull your head down when your nerves get the best of you. She’s front and center.” He hit his hand. “She can’t do what you do. You’ve always turned a blind eye when any one of us used to get on the stage. We’ve all popped pills and gotten wasted. There were times I needed something to perform to take up your slack.” He backed up and raised his hands. “And guess what? We’re fine.”

“She’s not you. This is a slippery slope for her. Can’t you see that?”

“You sleep with her. Is she fiending every night for drugs? Is she sneaking out trying to find the nearest dealer?”

I shook my head. “She was like an addict before the show. You were there. I’ve never seen you or the guys act like that.”

“Because we always have something just in case. I don’t know what her mother said to her, but it did her in, right before the biggest night of her life.” He moved closer to me. “Please, let it go. We just finished the tour to rave reviews, and our album is the next big thing. Can you just chill for once and not overthink this?”

“The Hollow Bones will never sell out. The Hollow Bones will always put its members above any money or opportunity. The Hollow Bones never make a decision unless we all agree.” I stared into the eyes of my best friend. “You said you would never allow Janae to destroy the band. Well, guess what? You just did by giving her drugs. I’m out.”

“Landon.” He grabbed my arm, and I shook him off.

“Soar as high as you fucking want, and you can keep the name. The Hollow Bones isn’t my band anymore.”

I pushed the door and walked past everyone as I strode out to the waiting car. I kept my head tucked between my legs to keep the panic away on the ride to her place.

June 16

I waited up for Janae so we could talk. She finally dragged herself home and crashed into bed with me, too tired to do anything but strip and sleep. I held her close, unable to drift off. I then packed my stuff, which didn’t take long, since I kept my belongings neat and tidy. I had a flight back to New York in a few hours, and I had no intention of missing it.

It was after three in the afternoon and I’d just moved my belongings to her living room when she walked in wearing one of my shirts, wiping sleep from her eyes. I was fully dressed and wearing shoes. She frowned. “What are you doing? Our flight to New York isn’t until tomorrow.”

“I waited all night to talk to you, but you were too sleepy. I didn’t want to just up and go without a word. You deserve more than my ghosting you, so I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

“You’re leaving?” she squeaked.

“Yeah. I need some space.” I folded my arms. “What did you use last night?

“I… I…” Her hands fell by her side. “I won’t use anything again. This isn’t a line or a plea. On that stage, I had an epiphany that the music was enough. That having you was enough to cope with whatever strikes. It’s the truth.”

“And the last time wasn’t the truth?”

She moved to me. “Last night was so different.”

“Yes, it was. You involved my friends. You asked Cedrick to give you drugs like I wasn’t there. Then you lied to my face. Everyone did. I thought you managed to do the show without anything until the after-party, when I could tell you took something. You were too mellow and avoided me. What did you take?” Something compelled me to ask, though I didn’t know if it would affect my decision to leave or not.

Janae touched my arms, and my resistance wavered. “Xanax. Just a stronger dose than what doctors prescribe. You know I haven’t been able to sleep. I was determined not to use anything. I finally had control over my nerves until my mother messed me up all over again.” Her voice broke. “I wanted to hurt myself…”

She sat on the sofa, lifting the hem of the oversized T-shirt she loved to sleep in. Spreading her legs slightly, she pointed to her inner thigh. “These are my old scars, the ones I covered with my sunburst tattoo.”

My breath caught as she traced the ink with her fingers, her expression distant, lost in a place I couldn’t reach.

“Yesterday, I grabbed scissors.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I wanted to cut myself.” She inhaled sharply. “I didn’t… because I knew you’d ask about it. I knew you’d notice.” Her eyes met mine, glassy with unshed tears. “Almost all of my tattoos hide scars.”

The confession hit me like a blow to the chest.

“The pain was so bad after my mother left my dressing room,” she continued. “I thought I needed something to get on that stage.”

Her words hung between us, heavy and raw. I clenched my fists, overwhelmed by the depth of what she had just admitted, by the pain she had carried alone.

As I tried to digest all that, she moved to me and said, “Go check on your mother and meet me in Austin next week, please. Dr. K warned me that I would need a break after the tour… that I needed nature. Just come see me and let me love on you, and I can explain the ugly of me.”

I shook my head. “You already showed me your ugly side. I poured my heart out to you in front of everyone, and you shattered it in pieces like I didn’t matter. My parents made me feel that way. Other people have made me feel that way. I hate myself for forgetting what I already knew, that you wouldn’t need me sooner or later. I hate myself for getting caught up in your web. I believed you would never make me feel that way.”

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