Page 63 of Between Never and Forever
“Oh my gosh thank you! Thank you. Oh my gosh.”
“You’re welcome,” I say with a laugh. “Is it okay if I hug you?”
She doesn’t answer. She just launches herself at me, knocking me back so I have to catch myself with one hand before I can wrap my other arm around her.
“Thank you,” she says again, crying onto my shoulder. I rub her back and squeeze her tightly.
“Thankyoufor being such a wonderful fan.”
She squeezes me tighter. “Please don’t be done,” she whispers into my ear. “Please don’t. I’ll miss you.”
I clamp my eyes shut against the sting, forcing back tears. I take a deep breath. She smells like baby lotion and sugar. What do I even say? Sorry kid, but I can’t do this anymore? I have to save myself? I swallow down the lump in my throat and tighten my hug.
“I’ll miss you, too, Jessica.”
It’s as honest as I can be for both of us.
She releases me, and I stand. Her father shakes my hand, thanking me for ‘making Jessica’s whole year.’
“Of course,” I tell him honestly. “On your way out, stop by a merch booth, okay? It’s on us.”
Red escorts me to the suite the Garden put me up in. The band used to share one, but we haven’t for a while now.
“It was a good show, Savannah,” Red says as I grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge. “One that’ll go down in history.”
I roll my eyes.
“We’re not Fleetwood Mac, Red. We’re not the Stones.” I drop myself down on the couch and tilt my head back on the cushions. I need to shower, but I need to breathe first. “In a few years, The Hometown Heartless will only exist in the occasional Where Are They Now internet search.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, kid.”
Red’s told me this before, but I still listen respectfully. He might be my personal security, but he’s become something more like a dad over the last eight months. Bringing him on as my personal security after my last rehab stay was one of the best decisions I’ve made since getting out. Adopting Ziggs was another.
“You’ve created something big. You built something amazing from nothing. That little girl out there? Everyone in that audience tonight? You gave them a show they will never forget.”
I roll my head toward him and watch as he picks through my fruit tray, popping a few grapes in his mouth. I hate grapes. The only reason I ask for them is because Red loves them.
“You think I’m making the wrong decision?”
He furrows his brow in thought, but he doesn’t look at me when he speaks.
“I think six albums and six world tours in six years is a lot for anyone,” he says slowly. “I think your body needs the break...But to make it permanent?” He pauses and shrugs. “I don’t know, kid. Only you can be sure of that.”
I sigh and close my eyes again.
That’s the problem. I don’t know that I’m sure of anything anymore.
Six albums, six world tours, six years. I don’t even know how it all happened. It’s a blur. We were “discovered” at the end of the summer after our makeshift tour up the coast. We spent the next year or so playing smaller gigs and opening for larger artists. Writing and recording. But then it just blew up and never slowed down.
We’re quiet for a few minutes. Long enough that I could probably fall asleep if I let myself, but there’s a knock on the door followed by an unwanted guest that has me groaning.
“What do you want, Hammond?”
“Just seeing if you’ve come to your senses yet,” he grumbles. Hammond’s been pissed at me since Atlanta. They all have.
“Not changing my mind. I told you that already.”
He taps something out on his phone and doesn’t say anything right away. The way he does this—makes you wait for a response—used to make me nervous, but after a while, I came to see it for what it was: plain old manipulation.
