Page 41 of Three Months Yesterday

“It was clear when we left the venue, but we drove right into it, and just outside the town limits a driver coming in the opposite direction veered into our lane forcing us off the road. I hit a patch of ice and everything…” I swallow, feeling the emotion building in my throat and cutting my words short. “The world flipped and then went black.”

It’s truly a miracle anyone walked away from that accident. I remember seeing the pictures weeks later and questioning how I was lying in the hospital room surrounded by so many people.

My team was much smaller back then, but they were all worried about how the accident would impact my career.

Whenever Ryan gets on me about needing to find a new team, the way Aaron handled everything after my accident is the prime example Ryan uses. But Ryan didn’t get the one-on-one time with Aaron like I did. He didn’t see how Aaron supported me through every tortuous moment the same way Ryan did.

Aaron made some stupid decisions, putting the things I could do for him and his career before what was best for me, but he was also one of the very few people who took the brunt of my anger, letting me rage against the world in every imaginable way. He was one of the few people who was there for me every step of my recovery, supporting me in all the ways that mattered most.

“The next thing I remember is the sound of my mother pleading for someone to answer her. I couldn’t speak and I was pinned to the steering wheel, unable to move. Not to see where she was or what happened with my father. Not to reach over and reassure her I was okay. The only sound was her sobs.”

“Beckett.” The word is choked, and it’s me squeezing her hand in comfort this time.

Needing to get it all out, I push forward. “It was hours before anyone found us and the whole time all I could do was listen to my mother’s sobs getting quieter and quieter until they stopped all together.”

It’s the silence that descended after that haunts me most.

“By the time help arrived it was too late. She was gone and my dad never had a chance. He died on impact.”

I take a deep breath and finish as quickly as I can. “I found out in the hospital that I broke my larynx, which is why I couldn’t speak or make any sounds.” A pained laugh slips from my lips before I force myself to continue. “Being pinned to the steering wheel actually saved me in the end. One slight move and I could’ve paralyzed myself or worse.”

“That’s…what…how…” Madison’s words are stilted and she never quite forms a question, but I’ve got a good idea what she’s trying to ask.

Fourteen albums in twenty years, plus a broken larynx—even more proof of love for my career, or an obsession with needing to control something.

“A very strict recovery process that included three months of absolutely no use of my voice and another nine months of rehabilitation. My parents never would have wanted me to give up my music, and I couldn’t fathom letting them down after losing them like that.”

“Beckett,” she whispers, her hand still wrapped up in mine. “I don’t know your parents, but knowing the man they raised you to be, I can imagine they would’ve supported whatever decision you made.”

“You’re right, they would have supported me, but music got me through all the awkward, cringey, and tough moments of my life. I knew it could get me through losing the two most important people. So, I put all my focus on getting back to where I was before the accident, and then I put all my focus on making my career better than I ever could’ve imagined.”

Madison’s eyes bounce between mine. I don’t know what she sees when she looks at me, but given the fact she’s the only person I’ve told the complete story to, I don’t try to hide anything else from her. There’s no point.

“I want to say something profound, but I’ve got nothing.” She shakes her head, her eyes falling to her lap for a moment before lifting to meet mine again. “I don’t know what you’ve accomplished in your life, but to have the recognition and respect of so many people, there’s no doubt your accomplishments are plenty. And to do that while surviving something so…” Her words trail off and I don’t blame her.

There are so many words that could finish that sentence. I’ve never quite figured out which one fits best.

Traumatic.

Horrible.

Devastating.

Agonizing.

All of the above.

None of it really matters. I may have accomplished a lot, but that doesn’t negate the fact that I’ve fucked up plenty as well.

“I’ve done some terrible things too,” I murmur. “Things I wish I could take back,” I add just as softly.

“Who hasn’t done terrible things in their life?” Madison’s words are as gentle as mine, as if she knows how big everything I’m sharing with her truly is.

“When drugs and alcohol are involved, those terrible things tend to escalate tenfold.”

Part of it was just bad timing and part of it was the fame.

It didn’t help that the accident happened during a time when doctors swore opioids weren’t addictive and it was as simple as saying I was in pain to get the prescription refilled or the dosage upped.