The Sound of Your Heart

by Laura Ward

  “Okay,” I said, wanting to make things right with him.

  “You need to break up with Ben.”

  I was struck silent for a few seconds, his demand coming as a complete surprise.

  “What?” I finally asked, sure I’d heard him wrong.

  “I heard what happened tonight at the Pi Kappa party and I don’t need that kind of shit messing with Ben’s head and screwing this all up.” It sounded like Nate wanted to crush me through the phone line.

  My stomach was sick, my skin crawling with the memory of Phil groping me. “Whatever you heard, it isn’t true,” I finally managed to say.

  My voice caught in my throat and I knew I sounded guilty. In reality, I was queasy—over what had happened and what could still happen. For the first time, I truly cared what people thought about me. I didn’t want to lose Ben. I didn’t want him to think the worst of me.

  “There are pictures and the guys all texted and called me. You went upstairs with Phil and came down looking like you were the party favor of the night,” Nate sneered through the phone line. “We’ve been gone barely a month and you don’t even have the decency to break up with my brother before you’re screwing someone behind his back.”

  “I didn’t.” I swallowed back the lump in my throat. “Phil said he had something for me from Ben. He insisted I follow him upstairs to get it.” Even as I said it, I realized it sounded like a lie. Because it had been.

  “Right.” Nate huffed a laugh. “Look, I don’t care who you screw as long as you aren’t fucking with my brother’s head. And you are. He’s so focused on you that he’s not even enjoying the tour. He’s not going to the events after the gigs because he rushes back to the room to call you. He’s missing out on this experience. Meanwhile, you’re dicking around with the douche bag he hates.”

  I was shaking my head, choking back the tears. “No. I’m not. I didn’t do anything with Phil. And I didn’t ask Ben to...I would never ask him to not enjoy himself. I—”

  “Do us all a favor and break it off with him before he gets any more invested in you. Before he misses out on anything else and you break his heart.”

  “I can’t.” I whimpered. “I won’t—” I was going to say that I wouldn’t break Ben’s heart, but there was a part of me that wasn’t sure I could promise that. My parents had broken my heart. And the truth was that I’d never worried about breaking a guy’s heart before. I wasn’t even sure I should be trusted with one.

  “Fine,” Nate said. “I’m telling him about Phil after the show.”

  “No! Please don’t do that,” I begged.

  God. Not that way. I couldn’t bear the thought of Ben hearing the lies and possibly believing them. Because I knew they were more believable than the truth. Nate was right.

  “If you’re not willing to let him go, then he’ll have to let you go.”

  I bit back my despair, quietly crumbling under the humiliation of the night, bending under Nate’s accusations.

  “I’ll break up with him,” I finally agreed. “Please...don’t tell him the gossip about Phil.”

  Nate released a breath. “Look, I don’t want him to get hurt. Just break it off, clean and gentle.”

  “Okay,” I said in a small voice.

  “It’s the right thing to do, Prescott.” He wasn’t quite kind, but his voice had lost some of the nastiness.

  After Nate hung up, I stared at the phone, trying to convince myself that he was right, that it was the right thing to do. Breaking up with Ben and setting him free would hurt him much less than the idea that I cheated on him. I’d rather be a heartless quitter in his eyes than a dirty cheater.

  I still couldn’t bear to do it while speaking to him. I was too weak, and I’d never be able to follow through.

  My finger trembled as I pressed the button for the voice memo app. I took a deep breath and slid on the armor of old Jules, the one who knew how to shed a guy without a trace of remorse.

  “Hey, Ben. It’s me, Jules.” My heart was thundering against my ribs. “I hope the tour is going great and you’re having a blast.” I felt my voice start to waver and I swallowed, attempting to regain my composure. I clutched the blanket in my fist and steeled myself. “Look, I don’t think this long-distance thing is going to work after all. I’ve got a lot on my plate. You’re busy, I’m busy...three months is a long time to put our lives on hold, you know? I think it’s best if we go our separate ways. Before anyone gets hurt.” I took a deep breath. “Good luck on the tour, you deserve the best. Tell Nate and the guys I said so. Bye, bass boy.”

  Before I could change my mind, my fingers tapped across the screen, and the phone made a whooshing sound as the voicemail was sent.

  I blocked Ben’s number and deleted his contact information.

  If I was going to make the break, I had to make it as permanent as possible.

  As I silenced my phone and tossed it across the room, I buried myself in the blankets, wishing they could hold me together.

  My relationship with Ben wasn’t the only thing that was broken.

  And it was all my fault. I’d given myself a bad reputation. I convinced Ben to go on tour. I went upstairs with Phil.

  I’d willingly done this to myself.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ben

  One of the things I hated about being on tour was that every night was different. I couldn’t go where I wanted, whenever I wanted like I could back home. Despite priding myself on being self-reliant, on tour I had to rely on someone’s arm to lead me. The other guys were having a blast, but my world had lost its definition. I often felt as if I was trying to walk in quicksand, never getting anywhere, slowly sinking into obscurity. Everything I knew was miles and miles away.

  Darkness was my norm. It was all I’d ever known, so learning and memorizing the world around me by touch and sound and muscle memory was the way it had always been. But now that the world around me changed nightly, I never had the chance to learn it before it was something new again. I was adrift.

  Even the music wasn’t enough to keep me from feeling lost. The concerts were amazing, but they didn’t have the stage or the crowd I was used to. The audience loved our music and they cheered, but I missed the familiarity of The Shell. We were out on tour, exploring new places and things, and I’d never felt so trapped by my disability.

  My only link to normalcy, the only time I felt grounded, was when I could talk to Julie at the end of the day.

  I missed her. I knew I would, but the shock of how much was almost crippling. It was amazing how quickly she made an impression on my heart, and how acutely it ached without her within arm’s reach.

  “I’m here man,” Leo said, bumping his elbow against mine.

  With the barest touch, I gripped his elbow as he led me off stage. The crowd was cheering, and I knew somewhere beyond the darkness of my eyes, stagehands were scurrying about to switch out our instruments for those of Excess Wreckage as they reset the stage.

  “You kicked ass,” Jed said, patting me on my shoulder as we walked by. “When are you boys adding that new song to the playlist?”

  “When it’s perfect,” I shot back, forcing a smile. He was a decent guy. Not at all the asshole rocker I expected. He could have ignored us and treated us like the clueless kids we were, but he went out of his way to take us under his wing, giving us advice, and making us feel like an integral part of the tour.

  “Nothing is ever perfect, kid,” he growled in a voice that spoke to his years of singing, drinking, and smoking. It wasn’t so much that his voice sounded abused, but lived in. “Let the people hear it, man. They’re gonna love it.”

  “That’s what I keep telling him.” Nate slung an arm around my shoulder as he took over the conversation for me. I loved my brother, but he never missed the opportunity to kiss ass and rub elbows with Jed and his bandmates.

  If I was being truthful with myself, I didn’t write that song for the crowd. I didn’t even write it for the band. I wrote it for
Jules.

  “See?” Nate held onto my shoulder. “I told you it was time to put it in the set. The experts agree.”

  I grunted noncommittally.

  “See you boys after the show,” Jed hollered as the intro for Excess Wreckage started and the crowd worked itself into a frenzy.

  “Come on.” Nate guided me toward the dressing room, pulling me along the winding paths backstage that I hadn’t managed to commit to memory.

  Once inside, I asked him to find my phone for me.

  “Dude, give it a rest.” He released me and walked away, I assumed to find something to drink. Being under the lights was like a hardcore workout. We all left the stage drenched and exhausted.

  I stumbled my way across the room, finding a couch and a duffle bag. I rummaged through the bag, not sure if it was mine or not, and not giving a fuck whose shit I might be tossing. If my asshole of a brother refused to help me out, I’d do it myself and he could clean up the mess later. I was tired of feeling helpless.

  My hand closed around the familiar bulk of my phone and relief washed through my veins as I pulled it out. I dropped onto the couch and my fingers fumbled across the glass, the screen reader calling out the apps and icons as I touched them. Once I found the phone button, I pressed it twice and navigated to the contacts with the help of the robotic voice.

  The pop and clatter of beer tops behind me indicated that Marty, Leo, and Nate were digging into the alcohol already. I tugged on the front of my shirt, peeling the wet fabric from my chest, eager to get back to the hotel so I could shower.

  I called Jules and waited, the weight of my phone in my hand and the possibility of talking to my girl, finally bringing me some calm. The phone rang once and abruptly went to voice mail.

  I frowned, wondering if she’d gone to bed early and turned off her phone. I never got a single ring before getting her voicemail. She always answered. I remembered that she was sober sister at a party tonight. Maybe she was just too busy to pick up the phone?

  “Hey, Jules,” I said after the beep sounded, inviting me to leave a message. “Just wanted to say goodnight. I...” For weeks, the notion of saying those four little letters had been knocking around in my head, but I never did manage to get them out. And the first time I said it wasn’t going to be over the phone. Or in front of the band. I’d say it to her and her alone. “I miss you,” I finally said. “Call me back.”

  I hung up and the couch rocked as someone collapsed on the other side of it.

  “Thirsty?” Leo asked.

  I lifted my chin in a half nod and held out my hand. “Yeah, all right.”

  I didn’t usually drink much, but tonight I was in the mood to indulge a little. At least until Julie called me back. Something cold brushed against my knuckles and I accepted the beer bottle that Leo handed me.

  Behind me, the chorus of electronic clicking sounds was evidence that Nate and Marty were typing away on their phones. Probably checking messages and fooling around on social media about how great the show had been. The real party didn’t start until the concert was over, so they usually wasted time on their phones and raided the liquor until Excess Wreckage was done.

  “What chewed you up and spit you back out?” Leo asked. “That was a kick ass show and you look like someone kicked your grandma.”

  I took a sip and shook my head. “Jules didn’t answer. She always answers.”

  He released a long breath and I waited for the lecture one of them was always giving me. They wanted me to stop holding on to home so much and enjoy the ride. What they didn’t realize was that if I let go, I might go tumbling off the side of the road and get left in the dust. They couldn’t seem to understand that the constant travel and the dependence on others was wearing me thin.

  “Didn’t she have a party tonight?” he asked. “Maybe she left you a message knowing she might not be around when you called.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. Pressing the home button on my phone and swiping my thumb across the screen to wake it, I navigated to the messages, my screen reader giving everyone a play by play of my actions. That was the shitty thing about my phone. There wasn’t much privacy when everyone could hear what I was doing. But it was better than the alternative...asking for help.

  Sure enough, there was a message from Jules. My heart lifted for a fraction of a second until she started speaking.

  “Hey, Ben. It’s me, Jules.” Her voice was sad, beaten down. “I hope the tour is going great and you’re having a blast.” There was a pause before she spoke again, and I knew the next words she was going to say weren’t going to be the sweet goodnight I’d been expecting. “Look, I don’t think this long-distance thing is going to work after all. I’ve got a lot on my plate. You’re busy, I’m busy...three months is a long time to put our lives on hold, you know? I think it’s best if we go our separate ways. Before anyone gets hurt.” She took a breath. The rest of her message tumbled out quickly, like the words were burning her tongue. “Good luck on the tour, you deserve the best. Tell Nate and the guys I said so. Bye, bass boy.”

  The room had gone silent and I realized everyone had heard the message.

  “What the actual fuck was that?” I growled. My fingers had a stranglehold on the phone in my hand.

  “Dude, I told you—” Nate started.

  “Shut up, Nate. Shut the fuck up right now.” I pushed up from the couch and started grabbing things—a duffle bag, a jacket, a beer, whatever was within reach—only half concerned if they were mine or not.

  “What are you doing?” Leo asked.

  “Going back to the room.” I needed to talk to Jules and no way was I going to have that conversation in front of my band. They didn’t understand. They had never even tried.

  “Before you go...” Marty’s hand was on my arm, holding me still with a firm grip.

  “What?” I half yelled, spinning to face him.

  “I was on snapchat, man. There are pictures of the Pi Kappa party. Pictures from tonight.” He was quiet. I wondered if he was looking at me with pity or avoiding looking at me entirely. “It doesn’t look good.”

  “What?” I ground out. “What doesn’t look good? Tell me.” I loathed the fact that I had to ask him, that I couldn’t see it for myself.

  “Jules. With Phil. Heading upstairs with him. Coming down looking like she was fucked sideways. Man, there are so many pictures. It looks bad.”

  My fingers immediately found his shirt, twisting in the fabric as I pushed him backward. The sound of his t-shirt ripping was accompanied by his protests as his back hit something solid and I held on tightly.

  “No. You’re lying,” I spit out. I couldn’t demand to see the photos because what fucking good would that do? And even if I could see them, would I want to if he was telling the truth?

  “Let me see,” Leo demanded coming up alongside us. There was a slight shuffle of noise as Marty handed over the evidence. Leo made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded an awful lot like disgust. His hand went to mine, forcing me to release my grip on Marty. “Come on. I’ll take you back to the hotel,” he told me.

  Those words gutted me. He could have said it wasn’t true, or that it was a misunderstanding. His silence on the matter was confirmation of Marty’s accusations.

  “You guys can’t leave,” Nate argued. “Jed and the rest of the band are expecting us to be at the after party.”

  “Don’t be a dick,” Leo countered. “Ben needs to sort some shit out and he doesn’t need an audience for it. I’m taking him back to the hotel. If he feels like meeting up later, we’ll call you.” I was led out the door and down unfamiliar hallways as the sound of Excess Wreckage hummed all around us.

  Leo found one of the cars waiting to take band members and stagehands back to the hotel and tucked me inside.

  “I can get the rest of the way on my own,” I told him.

  He shoved my shoulder, pushing me across the back seat and slid in beside me. “I know you can, dickhead, but I’m going wi
th you anyway.”

  After he shut the door, the car pulled away from the curb and we sat in silence for a few minutes.

  “Was he right?” I asked, my voice calm despite the anger simmering in my veins.

  Leo sighed. “I don’t know, man. The pictures look shady as fuck. And that message?” He paused. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but maybe she made the right decision.”

  I didn’t bother to respond. I wasn’t ready to admit any of them were right. Not until I talked to Jules.

  When we got back to the hotel, there were a few Excess Wreckage fans loitering outside who called our names, but Leo steered me clear of them. Usually, my senses were on high alert—sounds and smells vivid, the number of steps to get from point A to point B on a constant loop in my brain, my mind recording everything to tell me what my eyes couldn’t. But tonight, everything was muffled and fleeting. The only thing my mind could hold on to was what Marty had said.

  Jules going upstairs with Phil.

  She looked like she was fucked sideways.

  My girl with that asshole.

  No. I refused to believe it.

  We got up to the suite and I went to my room, slamming the door behind me. I sat down on the edge of the bed, dialed Julie’s number again, and proceeded to leave her three more messages. I didn’t even care if it seemed desperate or clingy. I was pissed, and I wanted answers.

  When Leo opened the door a while later, I was still sitting on the bed, phone in hand. Waiting.

  “I ordered Deadpool through OnDemand. Come out and help me kill this pizza while Ryan Reynolds slays the bad guys with sarcasm.” He didn’t try to make excuses or attempt to make me feel better. He was giving me an out, a way out of the shithole mood I’d buried myself in. Maybe it was only for a few hours, but I was willing to take it.

  I got up and crossed the room, entering the main area of the suite where Salt-N-Pepa’s “Shoop” was blaring from the television. The smell of hot, gooey cheese assaulted me. Leo pressed a cold bottle into my hand.

  I sat down on the couch and felt the edge of the pizza box nudge into my chest as Leo offered me a slice. I took a piece. “I don’t think she’s going to call me back.”