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Mack chuckles and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you kidding me? This has bullshit written all over it, kid, but that’s what I’m here to help you with.”
That stress I had got to put in the back of mind while I was in Arizona rushes right back to the surface and I clear my throat before looking at my best friends. “I’m quitting the band.”
It was a tough decision to make, but in the long run, I care more about Wren than I do about continuing a career that will only tear her down and hurt my mental state.
“Woah, woah, hold on now, kid,” Macks says gently, much different than the tone he’s been using with me. “We don’t have to do something so drastic.”
“I’m done, and you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore,” I snap at him, then I look at the guys sitting in front of me with a frown. “You guys are my best friends, but this is what I need to do – what I want to do. It’s time for me to take a real break and figure my life out without the fame getting in my way.”
When Mack leaves, I’ll explain my issues with Mack to them, and they can decide what to do next. Hopefully, they'll make the right decision.
Brent stares at me for a moment, likely trying to think of a way to change my mind but realizes after studying me long enough that there’s no point – I’ve made it up.
… and I’m going to get my girl back.
22
Wren
You’d think after a month, everything would be okay; I’d move on from the idea of Ryker and smile at the bright sun on any other day. That’s not the case. My stomach rolls with the need to puke for the third time this week as I swing my legs over my bed.
The fuzzy carpet beneath my seat does nothing to stop the sickness inside of me, and I quickly reach over, snagging the small trash can next to my bed in front of me, just in time for everything I ate last night to come out.
I groan loudly and throw myself back, running a hand over my aching stomach in the process while a small headache builds in the middle of my skull. Just like the puking, my headaches have been happening a lot more lately – it always starts when I wake up, then gradually increases throughout the day.
My phone rings from my nightstand, forcing me to lift from the comfortable spot on my bed and snag the device before flopping back down. “Hello?” I didn’t even bother looking to see who it was, but I no longer hope that it’s Ryker’s voice on the other end.
That is long gone and never coming back.
“Sweetie,” my mother says softly. “I was hoping we could get lunch together, if you’re feeling up to it today.”
This is the second day in a row she’s asked me to join her, each with me letting her know I’m not feeling well, and I’d hate to hurt her feelings by stating the same thing again. At first, when I was staying in the comfort of my house so I could cry over the loss of Ryker, I was simply saying no because I didn’t want to move.
How could everything ache from simply lacking the presence of another person? I’m not sure, but that’s what was happening to me.
Who am I kidding? It’s still happening, just not as often – I guess I can be happy about that.
Elias has tried getting me to talk about Ryker, but I’ve refused and made sure to block everything about him from my feed. I don’t want to know anything going on.
Maybe today will be a good day to spend some time with my mother. I clear my throat and sigh. “Sure, Mom, I’d love to.”
“Great! I’ll pick you up at eleven, unless you want to go later?”
I pull the phone away from my ear, glance at the time – which tells me it’s close to ten now – then shake my head against the device. “No, eleven will be fine. I’ll start getting ready now.”
After we hang up, I do my best not to stare too long at the sun pouring through my open window and slowly make my way into the bathroom. Thankfully there’s not as much light in here, which is a relief for my head, and I turn the water on before shedding last night’s clothes from my body.
The steam sticks to my skin uncomfortably, and an image of Ryker walking in to join me threatens to push itself to the front of my brain. It happens every time, with little things I do around the house, but this is where it happens the most.
That’s why my showers never last long.
Once I’ve gotten my hair rinsed of shampoo, I quickly scrub soap over the parts of my body that matter most for the day and step out before the images of Ryker take over. A good look at my reflection and I can tell there’s still exhaustion deep in my bones, but I can’t bring myself to worry about that right now.
My mother deserves to have a day of lunch with her daughter, she shouldn’t have to worry that I’ll continuously reject her invitation.
When I get into my room, I roam lazily through my closet until I find something that is somewhat presentable. I pull the thin blouse from the hanger, throw it haphazardly onto my bed, then walk over to my dresser and grab the first pair of jeans I lay eyes on.
I eye my red curls in the mirror, debating on if I should mess with them or not, and shake my head before moving over to my vanity. There’s dark circles under my eyes that my mother will notice almost instantly, so I grab my concealer to cover them up and add a small dab of lip gloss to my chapped lips.
