Page 7 of Contrition

Your flight has been altered and rerouted to the following locations.

Cleveland, Ohio—Harlem, Ohio

Departing Date: Sunday, March 30th, 2025

Flight Time: 2:15 p.m.

Arrival Time: 3:00 p.m.

This flight is a one-way destination.

Baggage, rental car, and hotel accommodations can be foundhere.

Enjoy your trip!

I stared at my laptop for what felt like hours as I tried to process the information in front of me. My eyes bounced back and forth between the two threads enough times that I was sure I was going to go cross-eyed after so long. Finally, and in an extremely reckless, dumb decision, I moved forward to grab my phone again and texted the only individual I knew was within drinking distance of me.

Me

Hey. Are you still in town? Do you want to get another round of drinks?

Derek

Is this your way of asking for round five?

Me

This is my way of telling you that I’m about to see my husband for the first time in eight years, and I need tequila. ASAP.

Derek

Once again, you truly know how to ruin a mood.

Give me thirty. I need to find another babysitter for Maribel.

You have some explaining to do, missy. Text me the address of your hotel.

three

ZACK

“You have to befuckingkidding me,” I exclaimed on a panicked breath as I scrolled through the forwarded email that our media producer, Sophie, had sent all of us mere moments ago. “You havegotto be fucking kidding me.”

Theo’s head popped out of the bathroom of our shared suite, steam wafting out slowly. “What? Is the Queen coming to the music festival or something?” The top of his hair was wet from his recent shower, buzzed at the sides to show off his skull tattoos, and his jaw was clean shaved. We could have been twins in resemblance—somehow getting our mother’s favor in genetics—if it weren’t for our facial hair, haircuts, and the slighter, more round curve to my own jawline.

My jaw clicked as I stared at him.

In the last eight years, there were many moments where I wanted to pummel him into the ground. Though, in the last two—once we had finally reached a resolve and resolution—my anger towards him had improved greatly.

Yet, it took seeing her photo on my phone, paired with the knowledge of her arrival, to bring that anger back. And I wanted nothing more than to smash his tattooed head into the glass of our shower doors.

Even if it would land me a few years of jail time.

He took a deep breath as he caught the rage coating my face. It took every ounce of strength to not click my teeth at him next.Justto be an asshole. “Okay. Not the Queen. What’s going on, man? You haven’t looked this pissed off in years. Let alone directed at me. Did something happen?”

I couldn’t even find the words as I all but chucked my phone in his direction.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen her in years. I wasn’t shocked to see her beautiful face, nor her split colored hair or golden complexion. I had stalked my wife more than any fan could have ever stalked anyone in our band—watching her age, change hair colors, get more tattoos, and experience life. I often fell asleep in my bed, a hotel bed, or a tour bus staring at her. Her photos.

---