by Abby Jimenez
It was a punch to my heart. My chin started to quiver. “Jason…”
He put his forehead to mine. “Sloan, I haven’t been taking very good care of you and I’m sorry. I’m going to do better.”
I sniffed. “This isn’t your fault, Jason.”
“It’s all my fault.” His eyes held mine. “There’s nothing that I want more than for you to be happy. Do you understand? I would do anything to make you happy.”
“I am happy.”
But his eyes told me he didn’t believe it.
* * *
Two hours later the doctor had come and gone. I had bronchitis and a double ear infection. When the doctor announced it, Jason looked like someone had kicked his dog. I think he felt guilty that I hadn’t seen someone sooner, but it wasn’t his fault. I could have gone to urgent care while he did what he had to do, but I’d just thought I’d get over it on my own.
The doctor gave me antibiotics, a shot of vitamins, prescription cough medicine, and a breathing treatment. And after that, Jason and I stayed in bed. God, we needed it. It was amazing that even though we were almost never apart, it was like we hadn’t seen each other in months. Nothing we did out here was quality time.
We lay there talking about everything but Jaxon. I was so tired of Jaxon—and I think he was too.
It felt like another person was in our relationship. One who was demanding and required our constant attention. Our entire life was spent in the pursuit of Jaxon’s needs, and now for the first time in months we were finally taking time for us. It felt good.
Maybe this was the trick. The thing I had to chase. And maybe if we slept in the bus, our waking hours would be more like this and less like what it had been so far.
But even as draining as the touring had been, there was good in it too. I’d fallen so much more in love with Jason over the last three months. I’d always been in awe of him—even before I knew who he was. But now I loved him for a hundred more reasons.
I’d learned he was kind and polite to everyone, from the people who checked us into our hotels to the cashiers at the gas stations. I learned he’d stay until every single person who wanted to meet him got the chance, no matter how tired he was. He was generous. He tipped well and took care of the people around him. He always helped bring in his gear, even though his crew was supposed to do it. I knew he carried around spare guitar picks to give to little kids who wanted autographs. And most of all, I knew he cherished me. I felt like the center of his gravity. Like wherever I was, he was orbiting me. It was an honor to be loved by him and it made all of this worth it, even though it was hard.
We were lying there with our heads on the same pillow, looking at each other. He reached out and brushed my hair behind my ear as I studied him. I’d memorized every freckle in his eyes. Every line. “I could paint your face from memory, you know that?” I said quietly. “You are burned into me, Jason.”
He smiled gently. “Sloan, I did something for you.”
I bit my lip. “What?”
He let out a breath. “You can say no if you want to, but I put a lot of thought into it and really think you should do it.”
“I put a lot of thought into something too,” I said. “I think we should try sleeping on the bus again. You’re right, it’s more practical. I’m just going to have to get used to—”
“I want you to go to Ely and stay a few months with my family.”
I bolted up straight. “What?!”
He sat up and put out a hand. “Hear me out, okay? It’s not as crazy as it sounds. I want you to do that commission,” he said. “And I think my parents’ house would be the perfect place to do it. You could paint by the bay window overlooking the lake. You could take Tucker with you and he’d have all that space to run after being cooped up with us for so many months. My mom’s freezer is full of wild game and you could cook and maybe start updating your blog again. Mom loves you and she wants to get to know you better. Minnesota is central, so no matter where I am in the US, you could fly out to see me and be there within three hours and the time differences won’t be that bad. And I called Kristen. Her and Oliver are going to come and stay with you there for two weeks.”
I blinked at him. “You…you called Kristen?”
His blue eyes held mine. “Yes, I did. You could go to California for Thanksgiving and see your parents. And if you leave now, you’ll be done with the painting in time to join me in Paris for Christmas. The timing is perfect.”
I was speechless.
“Jason, I don’t want to leave you…”
He shook his head. “Look, we have to figure out how to make this work for both of us. It’s not going to end anytime soon. You need to have something that’s for you.” He looked me in the eye. “I want you to go. I want you to do this.”
We stared at each other, my chest rising and falling a little too quickly and him looking levelly back at me. It was so thoughtful and sweet. Really, it was. But I couldn’t…could I?
After losing Brandon, I’d found joy in nothing. Everything stopped for me. My world was a bleeding watercolor in the rain. And now it was a stark white canvas, begging for me to paint on it—and my hands were tied behind my back.
I was in an in-between again. I’d set up a new shrine without even realizing I was doing it, only this one wasn’t for Brandon or Jason. It was for Jaxon.
I wanted to do that commission so badly it was a physical craving. I had to go somewhere else to paint it. That was the simple truth of it. There was no other choice.
And Jason was right. I needed a break.
If I went overseas like this, I was going to fall apart. I was physically exhausted, and the UK leg was even longer than this one and I’d be jet-lagged on top of it. If I was worn down now, how would I be then without a chance to recover first? I could come back, reset, and be ready to take all this on again, and we’d try the bus thing and maybe it would be a game changer.
And there was something else too.
If I said no, if I didn’t take him up on this offer, he’d feel worse than he already did. He needed this solution as much as I did so he wouldn’t feel helpless to make things better for me. I couldn’t let him carry that guilt.
I licked my lips. “When were you thinking I’d go?”
“Tonight.”
I blanched. “Tonight? As in a few hours?”
“If it’s too fast or you’re not up to it, you can stay here for a few days and rest. But there’s a flight to Duluth at seven thirty. And if you left today I could even go with you to the airport. I already talked to Dad about picking you up.”
I shook my head at him. “Why is every trip to your parents’ house pitched to me with less than twelve hours’ notice?”
He smiled gently at me and waited for my answer.
I held his eyes. God, but two whole weeks with Kristen and Oliver! And the luxury of unpacking, sleeping in the same bed until I was ready to wake up, no alarms going off or flights to catch. No more bus or endless Taco Bell. Painting.
“Say yes, Sloan.”
I let out a breath. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
I nodded.
He looked almost relieved. His face went soft and he ran a thumb along my cheek.
There was something so tender in the way he touched me it made me forget to breathe. He looked at me like I was the most beautiful woman in the world. I was sick and gross, but he didn’t care. I was everything to him and he made me know it, every single day.
And now he was going to be without me for weeks. Maybe even months. And he was doing it all for me. I was his sacrifice. Just like he was mine.
I pulled down his hand and looked at it, holding it between us, touching the calluses on his fingertips. “I love your hands.” His instrument. His talented, capable, loving hands.
“Have them. They’re yours,” he said.
I smiled. “You’re giving me your hands?”
“My hands, my voice. My back to do your heavy lifting, my arms t
o carry you to bed when you’ve had too much tequila. My money, my time, my heart. It’s all yours, Sloan.”
I could feel the love in his words. It was so earnest, it made my heart ache so much, tears pricked my eyes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sing love songs for a living.”
He shook his head. “It’s just how I feel. I’m yours. All of me. I think I always belonged to you. Even when you belonged to someone else.” His eyes moved back and forth between mine. “Tucker knew it. He took one look and he saw the other half of me inside of you and he brought you home.”
Two hours later we said goodbye at the airport. And I watched him pretend not to be sad.
Chapter 38
Jason
♪ Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea | Missio
Five weeks later
I was playing in Vegas. I was sitting on a cold metal folding chair backstage drinking my second Red Bull of the night when Sloan called. It was loud. Grayscale was almost done with their set.
It had been five weeks since I’d last seen her. I missed her so much it made me physically ill. I couldn’t sleep and I was getting headaches. Probably grinding my teeth, who the fuck knew.
This whole thing with Sloan was a complete and total transfer of energy. She was happy and light and rested, and now I was a mess. Saying goodbye to her had fucking wrecked me.
“Hey, babe. What’s up?” I said, rubbing my forehead.
“Did you get the cookies?”
I could hear the smile in her voice. She was always smiling now. I tried not to dwell too much on what it meant that she was so much happier not being here.
“Yeah. Thank you.”
“Your mom gave me the recipe,” she sang.
I arched an eyebrow. “Did she?” I set the empty can down and waved at Zane, pointing at it for another one.
“Yup. I can make them for you now whenever you want.”
I actually smiled a little, despite the throbbing in my head. “She must really like you. She doesn’t give that to anyone.”
She laughed. “Well, I had to barter for it. I let her post her favorite grouse recipe on The Huntsman’s Wife in exchange.”
“So she can be bought.” I chuckled dryly.
Mom loved her. Everyone did. Dad raved about my girlfriend every time I called home. But I’d actually been regretting sending her there instead of an Airbnb on the beach or something because my parents, though well intentioned, were a distraction.
Sloan wasn’t getting her work done.
I missed her. Every time I talked to her, all I wanted to ask was, “How long?” How much longer until she came back?
Her paintings took months. I knew that. And I didn’t want to rush her. She needed to focus, and me constantly asking when she’d be done with it wasn’t going to help things. So I never poked her. It was my number one rule. I inquired about how it was going, if it was coming out the way she wanted. But I never asked how long.
And then last night she’d sent me a picture.
It wasn’t even half-finished.
My heart had crashed and burned in my chest.
I don’t think she even started until Kristen left, so that was two weeks of zero progress. Mom was taking her antique shopping and to meat raffles. Dad was bringing her on hikes and having her over to the outfitter. I’d been right about the cooking thing—Sloan had started updating her blog again. But she and Mom together were a dangerous combination. They could be in the kitchen all day long if left to their own devices—which they were.
Under normal circumstances, I’d be thrilled that my family had embraced her. But these weren’t normal circumstances. I wanted her back.
I’d rather Sloan get two hours of painting done and come home to me two hours sooner than I get a delivery of Grandma’s cookies to my hotel room—even if they were my favorite.
“You want to hear something funny?” Sloan said. “Your mom says the next time we’re here together, we can share a room.” She sounded triumphant.
“Wow, that is big,” I mumbled. The bass from the stage vibrated from the floor to my brain and I squeezed my eyes shut.
“I think she’s hoping you’ll get me pregnant so she can keep me.”
I snorted. “Sounds like a good enough reason to me,” I said tiredly. “Let’s do it. Stop taking your pill.”
She laughed. “Wow, your tour has officially made you insane.”
“What?” I pinched my temples. “You want to raise kids with Kristen, don’t you? Let’s knock you up.”
She giggled. “How romantic. But pregnant? And then with a baby? On tour? That’s crazy.”
I squinted out at the curtains. “How is that crazy?”
She snorted. “Are you kidding?”
“Why would I be kidding?” I frowned.
“Pregnancy is hard, Jason. Look how run-down you’ve been, and you’re not carrying a baby. We can’t do that on tour.”
I shook my head. “Sloan, there’s always going to be a tour. We know that already. We can’t let that stop us from living our lives.”
“Jason, we don’t need to have kids right now. We can wait until it’s better.”
I shook my head again. “It’s not going to be better. We have to work with what we have.”
“Uh, by doing something nuts like dragging myself around the globe pregnant? And then what? Breastfeeding behind stage? A crib in the dressing room?” She sounded amused.
“Yeah, why not?”
“Are you serious?” She laughed. “Have you ever actually met a baby? You do realize that they require a routine, right?”
My jaw flexed. “Sloan, I’m not joking about this. If we want to have kids, we should have kids.”
There was a beat of silence. “You don’t even get days off, Jason.” The humor had suddenly left her tone.
“So?”
“So I get pregnant and then what? Deal with morning sickness and jet lag? When would I go to the doctor? And would you even be there with the way they’re running you? What if I needed to be on bed rest? What if I went into labor on the road in a foreign country? What if the baby got sick or—”
“I would make sure you’re taken care of,” I said slowly. “You know that.”
“You can’t even take care of yourself out there. You’ve been having headaches for weeks, you’re not sleeping. And we both know how I do on the road.”
I tried to steady my breathing. “So you’re just what? Not going to have kids with me?”
“I didn’t say that,” she said carefully. “I just said I wouldn’t do it right now. It’s not practical.”
“Sloan, this is the best I can do. I can’t change it.”
“I know. But that means you have to be realistic about what you can have—what we can have—until this situation improves. Lots of couples put off having kids while they focus on their careers. It’s fine.”
But it wasn’t fine. Not to me and not to her either, no matter what the hell she said to try to make me feel better about it.
The background music from the opening band came to an end. We both heard it. Zane handed me my Red Bull and held up a hand, letting me know I was on in three minutes.
Sloan’s voice softened. “Look, you have to go on. Let’s talk about this later, okay? You don’t need to be worked up about this before your show.”
I put my fingers on my temples. “Sloan—”
“Call me tonight, Jason. I love you.”
The line went dead.
I set my phone on my leg and put palms to my eyelids.
This separation was killing me. I was fucking unraveling out here. I couldn’t keep doing this.
It was nothing like it had been when we met. Talking on the phone wasn’t enough anymore, and at the rate she was going with her work, I doubted she’d even be able to meet me in Paris. And now this? How many more things was she going to have to give up?
I dragged myself onstage and went through the motions, but I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversa
tion.
I took a quick break halfway through my set and called her.
“Hey,” she said, picking up.
“I need to know you’ll do whatever it takes for us to have a life together,” I said without preamble.
“You want me to tell you I’ll be pregnant and dragging after you like a groupie while you go be a rock star?” she said, finally irritated with me. “Really? Why are you so dead set on arguing about this?”
“Why are you so dead set on making sure this won’t work? I’m a musician, Sloan. You knew this was what you were signing up for.”
“I signed up for touring with you. Me. Not babies who will grow up in hotel rooms. Not little children who won’t even be able to play unless it’s in a bus. It’s not fair to them. I wouldn’t even bring a puppy into this. Not until you have some balance.”
“I would have balance if you were here,” I said through gritted teeth.
“I can’t be your balance, Jason. I’m not doing it, I’m not further reducing the quality of my life just so you can check something off your list,” she snapped.
“Sloan—”
She let out a shaky breath. “Jason, I have to go.”
She hung up on me.
I hurled my phone against the wall.
Zane, who stood by the emergency exit texting, got pelted with shrapnel. “You know I’m not going to be able to replace that until tomorrow, right?” she said calmly.
“Fuuuuck!”
I clawed my fingers down my face and then turned my wrath on the nearest inanimate object and kicked over a fog machine. “No more goddamn motherfucking fog!”
My backup band milled around the water fountain, waiting for me, and they looked at me now like I’d lost my damn mind.
Maybe I had.
I yanked out my in-ear monitor and stormed off to the bathroom to splash water on my face. I leaned on the sink, trying to catch my breath.
So now what? The price for being with me had gone even higher? She had to trail after me for years on end, sick and exhausted, missing her friends and family, not painting, and now I was taking motherhood from her too?
