“Of course it was.”
“I haven’t done the best job healing from that. I have a lot of nightmares, and I barely ever sleep and… I drink way too much so I don’t have to think about it. And sometimes…” I sigh. “You saw what happened in Glasgow. I freak out. I remember seeing him in the crowd, before everything got so bad, when he was just a normal fan, and I freak. I panic and I can’t deal. I ruined our last tour, nearly ruined the band. The label is giving us one last chance, so we’re pretty much on our last legs here. And it’s all because I’m fucked up, and I can’t seem to get better.”
We’re both still facing the painting, not looking at each other, but Lennon squeezes my hand, and I feel like I can picture exactly what his face would look like right now. Calm and still, those eyes of his understanding and unflinching, holding my gaze. “I’m not saying I understand what you went through,” I continue, my voice stronger. “Or what you’re going through now. But I do understand feeling fucked up. Like you’re broken and you can’t figure out how to just get over it. I get that. So you don’t ever have to be ashamed of that, okay? Not around me.”
He releases a huge breath, and it’s my turn to squeeze his hand. “I’ve done things to, uh, hurt myself,” he mutters, and despite what I said, the shame is palpable in his voice. “Over the years, a few times. I just get… really overwhelmed by certain things, by this shit in my brain and I…” He swallows a few times. “I want to turn it off. That’s the best way I can describe it. And I told my brothers this accident was the same way. That I wasn’t consciously trying to do anything except to turn that shit off.”
“It was more than that though,” I guess.
From the corner of my eye, I see him nod. “This time I wanted everything to stop. I wanted to stop.”
“But you didn’t.” Thank God, I think.
“Because I got lucky.”
“What about now, Lennon? Do you still want to… stop?”
“No.” His voice is fierce. “I don’t.”
“And you have people helping you?”
He nods. “I was in a hospital, and I talk to my doctor every day.”
We both stand there, letting the quiet build back up around us. A part of me feels faint with fear at the thought of him acting on those feelings. But the other part, a bigger part, is strangely calm. Like now that the words have been spoken, they won’t have the same power. For either of us.
One thing is for sure—out of anyone else in this world, Lennon Ransome is the one person who might actually understand what it feels like in my head. Our experiences haven’t been the same—I have no idea what could have driven him to feel like he needed to end things. But we both understand being broken. And we both understand what it’s like to desperately want to be fixed.
“Okay,” I finally say, breaking the silence.
Only then does he turn to me. “Okay?”
I nod, meeting his eyes. Just like I thought, they’re unblinking. Calm. Whatever horrible things exist in his head, they’re not controlling him now.
“Just okay?” he presses.
I shrug. “It seems to cover it.”
And then he laughs, and I’m pretty sure it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. Because he can still laugh, even after telling me all of that. “Okay then,” he says.
“I want to show you something.” I pull on his hand, and he follows me back down the wall to that first Van Gogh painting that caught my eye. “Look at this church. Isn’t that the most gorgeous blue you’ve ever seen?”
He nods, but when I look up at him, his gaze is on my face, not the painting. The pain of the last few minutes doesn’t disappear; I know as well as anyone that life doesn’t work like that. But it does lessen a little bit. And that’s something.
“Okay, your turn,” I say. “You have to find something gorgeous for me now.”
He grins. “Challenge accepted.”
We wander through the gallery for another hour. Eventually his brothers, Levi, and the girls come upstairs, and we pass them, sometimes stopping to admire the same painting. But I never let go of his hand, not even when Reed’s eyes narrow when he sees us.
He shows me Monet’s water lilies, and I show him the Renoir paintings I’d found before. He shows me the garden party one he mentioned, and I decide I like that even better. We look at Degas’s dancers and Seurat and Matisse. So many amazing paintings, and like Lennon said, it doesn’t matter that I don’t know what I’m looking at. All that matters is that they make me feel something. And what I feel, standing there next to Lennon, my hand in his, looking at the most beautiful paintings I’ll ever see in my life, is hopeful. For the first time in ages, I feel hopeful.
When the docent tells us our time is almost up, Lennon takes me over to a clock that dominates an entire wall. “This is the back of the clock you can see from down on the street,” he says as we peer through the glass at the lights of Paris below us. The city stretches on and on as far as I can see. “What’s that?” I ask, pointing at a white church way off in the distance. Even though it’s tiny from here, I can see that it looks almost like a wedding cake.
“That’s Sacre Coeur. It’s up in Montmartre. I’m sure Paige is planning an afternoon up there.”
“Good.”
We stand there for a few more minutes, looking out at the city, and that feeling of hopefulness grows in my chest. “Hey, Lennon?” I finally say.
“Yeah?”
“You know what I said about us being friends?” He turns away from the city to look at me, and all I can think is that he’s once again showing me something amazing. “I think I was wrong,” I whisper. “I think we should be a lot more than that.”
When the grin breaks over his face, I know that I’m taking the most beautiful thing in this museum back with me.
Chapter Thirteen
Lennon
“I gotta tell you, Len, I never thought you had it in you.”
I continue clearing our gear off the stage after rehearsal, refusing to acknowledge Cash and wishing, for the millionth time in my life, that there was a way to mute my older brother.
He bumps my shoulder with his. “I mean, really, dude. She’s pretty hot.”
“She is quite attractive,” Daltrey adds, joining us by the amps to help us roll some cords. “What’s she doing hanging out with you?”
“She’s also a lot cooler than you. I mean, she’s a proper rock star. Adventurous. Fun. Not some lame-o book-reading dork.”
“Do you try to sound like a Neanderthal, or does it happen naturally?”
Cash snickers, and I finally give in to the urge to glare at him. “Hey now.” He holds up his hands as if in self-defense. “Give us a little leeway here, Len. You never tell us about the girls you’re into.”
“He’s right,” Daltrey says. “We never get the chance to mess with you about this shit. We’re overdue.”
“Which is why I never tell you about the girls I’m into,” I say.
“Hmm.” Cash rubs his chin. “Good point. But it’s too late now. I saw the two of you sucking face in the elevator last night.”
“Not to mention how you spent all your time in the museum alone together.” Daltrey waggles his eyebrows at me. “Doing God knows what upstairs where no one could see you.”
“This is a banner day for you, Dalt,” I say as I stand, finished with the cords. “I actually want to punch your face more than Cash’s.”
He grins. “I’m honored.”
“What’s going on?” Levi asks, joining us. “Why am I loading all your instruments for you?”
“Because it’s your job?” Cash earns himself a jab in the ribs from our tour manager for that.
“We’re just giving Lennon a hard time,” Daltrey says. “You know. Because he has a girlfriend.” He uses an exaggerated whisper on the last word.
“Because they’re so mature,” I add.
“I don’t know, Len,” Levi says, resting his elbow on Cash’s shoulder as he appraise
s me. “You never really give us a chance to mess with you about this stuff.”
“That’s exactly what I said!” Cash agrees excitedly.
“So maybe it’s kind of your turn.”
As annoying as they all are, the truth is, I’m having trouble making myself care too much. It’s hard to get worked up about people teasing me for the thing that’s making me happier than I’ve been in ages.
“You too, Levi?” I ask, shaking my head in disappointment. “I expected more.”
“Daltrey!” Reed barks from the other side of the stage. “What the hell is your guitar doing on my stand?”
Dalt rolls his eyes at us. “You think he’s ever going to get the stick out of his ass?”
“What are you guys doing?” Reed yells. “Why is no one working?”
“I doubt it,” Cash says to Daltrey. “Come on, better get the rest of this cleared before he loses his shit.” They cross the stage to help Reed while I bend to put my bass back in its case.
“You okay with that?” Levi asks, kneeling next to me. He answers my questioning look by gesturing at the retreating backs of my brothers. “The teasing, I mean. I know they can be kind of annoying—”
“They? You’re leaving yourself out of this?”
He shrugs sheepishly. “I just kind of figured it was better than them worrying, you know? Treating you like normal.”
“Messing with each other is pretty normal Ransom behavior,” I agree. “You have a point. I would take that crap over the incessant worrying any day.”
“You about done here?” Reed asks, coming up behind us.
“Just about.” I stand and dust off the knees of my jeans. “We heading back to the hotel?”
Levi glances at his watch. “You guys have two interviews this afternoon,” he says. “The reporters are coming here.”
I groan. The last thing I feel like doing today is sitting in a room with my brothers answering questions. We only have three more days in Paris, and I want to spend them out in the city. Preferably with Haylee.
Her face flashes through my mind, the way she looked when I left her room this morning. She was laughing as I went in for one last kiss before the door closed, dressed in nothing but one of my old band shirts, her hair loose around her face. On second thought, maybe we didn’t need to spend time out in the city after all. Her room would suffice. Or mine.
“Sorry,” Levi says sympathetically. “We’ll try to get them out of here pretty quick. And I’ll order some lunch so you’re not starving while you wait.”
“Thanks, Levi.” He pulls out his phone and walks away, presumably arranging our meal, leaving me standing with Reed on the side of the stage.
“How’s it going?” he asks, voice careful.
I suppress a sigh. “It’s going really good, Reed. How about you?”
He doesn’t answer, his eyes on my face. “I heard about you and Haylee.”
“Yeah?” If he detects the warning in my voice, he ignores it.
“Yeah. You, uh, sure that’s what you want to be doing right now?”
“I’m sure it’s none of your business.”
He sighs, running his hands through his hair. “I’m just—”
“Worried? How shocking.”
“Lennon, come on.”
“No, Reed. I’m so fucking tired of this.” I realize that I’m clenching my fists, and I force myself to relax. “I’m happier about this than I’ve been about anything in a really long time. If you think that’s a problem, something to worry about, well, you can keep it to yourself, okay?”
“Lennon—”
Rescue comes from an unlikely place. “I think that’s enough, Reed,” my dad says, coming up behind us. “Why don’t you head back to the dressing room. I want to talk to your brother.”
Awesome. So now he’ll lecture me instead of Reed. But, to my surprise, he smiles once Reed has left the stage. “You look good, son. You’ve been getting some rest?”
Caught off guard, I nod. “Yeah. The schedule has been pretty great. Especially this week. Uh, thanks for that.”
He waves his hands dismissively. “I want you boys to enjoy this experience. Besides, what’s the point of all that hard work all these years if we never get to enjoy the fruits of our labor?”
Wow, is this really my dad? I study his face, noticing that he seems better rested as well. The worry lines, so prominent since my accident, have faded a bit, the dark circles under his eyes gone.
“So. Haylee Hunt.”
I don’t think I’ve ever discussed girls, any girl, with my dad before. He’s avoided any hint of emotional stuff for as long as I can remember. “Uh, yeah,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets to keep from fidgeting. “She’s, you know. Pretty great.”
“I’m sure she is.” His slightly strained voice betrays his words a bit. He’s never been very good at letting women into our circle, though he’s done a better job at hiding his displeasure since Daisy and Paige decided to stick around. “Does she… does she know what happened?”
I can’t meet his eyes. “Yeah. I told her.”
He nods. “I’m glad. That you can talk to her, I mean. I think that’s important.”
My head snaps up to look at him, but he’s looking away now. “Yeah?”
“I do,” he says. “I don’t want you to bottle things up so much. And I know your brothers aren’t always the easiest to talk to.”
I can’t help sniggering at that, and he grins, the awkwardness disappearing. “None of us has ever done emotional maturity very well,” he says wryly. “I’m sure you have me to thank for that.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. We could always get better.”
The grin slips from his face as his expression becomes more serious. He watches me for a long moment before nodding. “Yeah. We could definitely get better.” He shakes his head, and I can tell he’s uncomfortable with the double meaning of his words. Emotional maturity indeed. “All right, you should get back there. I’ll be in for the first interview.”
“Thanks, Dad.” But as I turn to go, he reaches out and grasps my shoulder.
“Lennon… you know you can talk to me too, right?”
I turn back to face him. “Sure, Dad.”
“I mean that. I know I might not seem like the best person to confide in—”
“You’re fine, Dad. You’ve always been fine.” I take a deep breath. “I mean, that’s why I asked you for help before, right? Because I knew I could trust you.”
He draws in a ragged breath, and I realize, not for the first time, how much it must have hurt him, to have my brothers turn on him so fiercely. He’s been keeping a low profile on this tour, barely around when we hang out in the venues or out in the cities. I assumed he was trying to make it easier for them. But maybe it’s easier for him too.
He swallows a few times, and I get the distinct impression he’s finding it difficult to talk.
“I’m gonna head back,” I tell him, my voice soft. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
He nods, eyes on the floor. If we were different people, I would hug him. But when it comes to family stuff, my emotional maturity is about as stunted as my brothers’. Luckily my phone rings, saving both of us from any more embarrassing displays of emotion. “Gotta get this,” I say quickly. “See you.”
“See you,” he says, his voice a lot more steady now as I head to the wings.
A quick glance at the screen tells me it’s Haylee. I’m grinning when I bring the phone to my ear. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Just the slightly raspy sound of her voice makes my heart rate pick up. “Whatcha doing?”
“Heading to a lame interview,” I say. “Which means hanging out with my brothers for the foreseeable future. Aren’t I lucky?”
“Damn,” she says. “I was hoping you’d be free. We just finished our rehearsal.”
Something about her calling me right after rehearsal makes me grin like an idiot, and I lean against the wall, feeling stupid and happy at the same t
ime. “I’ll definitely try to hurry,” I say. “We still on for dinner?”
“Yeah.” A pause. “But that’s ages away.”
If I thought I was grinning like a fool before…
“I’ll get out of here as soon as I can,” I say. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”
“Okay. Talk to you soon.”
I slip my phone back into my pocket and turn in the direction of the dressing room, practically jumping out of my skin when I see Cash leaning against the same wall just a few feet away. “Oh, man, it’s worse than I thought,” he says, shaking his head. “You should see the soppy look on your face right now.”
“Whatever,” I say, way too happy to care.
He grins back. “Why don’t you get out of here?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just go. Hang out with your girl. We can handle a couple interviews without you.”
“I don’t think—”
“Dude, you’re just the bass player.” He smirks. “No one gives a shit about the bass player.”
“Thanks,” I say, but I’m laughing.
“I mean it. You should go see Haylee.”
It’s tempting, definitely tempting. But I’m also not really in the mood to deal with Reed right now. “What do you think our drummer would have to say about this plan?”
He rolls his eyes. “I’ll handle Reed. I’ll tell him you’re sick or something.”
“You know, now that you mention it, my head has been bugging me.”
He laughs. “Which is totally understandable, considering you’ve been listening to all of our shit today, right?”
“Right.”
He takes a step toward me. “Seriously, Len. Just go. What I said about her being more adventurous than you?”
“Yeah?”
“I think that’s really good for you, to be with someone like that. I think she’s good for you. So go have fun.” He shakes his head. “God knows you deserve it.”
Wow. I’m actually a little touched by that. “And you’ll take the heat for me?”
He shrugs. “I figure I owe you one.”
“For what?”
He thinks for a moment before grinning. “I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ve bailed me out more than once.”
Rescue (Ransom Book 5) Page 17
