Wasted Heart (29 page)

“You don’t want to fucking do this here,” he says, jerking his arm away from me.

“Promise me then, no more drugs of any kind. Say it,” I beg, not caring how I sound.

He shakes his head and starts to speak. “Don’t make demands, Syn. You won’t like what I pick, and I’ve already gotten from you what you willingly gave.”

For once, the tears don’t come because I’m honestly too emotionally spent. Jared and Ian finally excuse themselves, done witnessing my pain and dismissal. I look down and glance back to see Tag’s boots in my view. I’m embarrassed, knowing that he has witnessed this.

Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I tell him, “I’ve only ever wanted you to pick me. Over the women, over the drugs, over your own selfish pain.”

Turning, I rush by Tag and hear him call out my name. I run swiftly away, not knowing my destination. I just need to be away from everyone, from Rhye. Finding an exit, I walk outside, glancing up at the clear night sky. I’m so angry at him, at his choices. For the first time in months, I question if this love can make it. If I’m strong enough for him. It’s all confusing inside my head, leaving me with too many unanswered questions.

“You need a ride?”

“Go back to the party, Tag,” I say, not turning around to look at him.

“He doesn’t care about you, Syn,” he says, whispering close behind me. “As soon as you ran out, he went back to talking to someone, like nothing ever happened. He’s not our kind of people.”

Whirling around, I ask him, “What does that mean, Tag?”

“It means, Syn, that this fast way of life is not for you and me. We are meant for slow and simple. It’s what makes us country folk happy. Long walks on green stretches of land, sitting out on the front porch playing our guitars, and high on life instead of whatever shit that boy is on. That’s you, Syn. That’s me.”

My tears finally make an appearance, seeping out of both my eyes, falling straight to the ground. “No. I love him.”

I hear him take a deep breath before blowing it out heavily. “It doesn’t mean anything if he doesn’t love you back.”

Staring at the ground, I watch his boots come to stand in front of me, and he reaches for my trembling hands, capturing them with his. In a low voice, he speaks to me. “I know I messed up, and I know now that you probably will never forgive me, but I can’t stand the thought that you let him hurt you. Cut your losses, Syn. He’s going to lead you on a chase, possibly ruining your career, while he gets high, not caring what it does to you. What happened to that feisty country girl that I met? She would never have put up with this horse crap from me. Where is that girl?”

Glancing up at him, I can’t hide the tears running rivets down my face and the uncontrollable sobs shaking my frame. “She fell in love with a broken boy.”

He grabs me to him, shielding me from everything but myself, my worst enemy.

“Let me take you away from here. I promise we will only go somewhere to talk. Give you some time to think things through.”

I need to leave. I need to get far away, so I can digest everything clearly. Nodding my head, I say, “Yes.”

Tag drives me to a diner at a rundown truck stop miles out of town. Sliding into a booth, we both order coffee. At first, we don’t speak, but as the night turns to morning, I start to tell him everything. All of my worries of never being what Rhye needs and praying that he will love me enough one day to change. Tag stares out the window, at first not responding, but then, he turns to me shaking his head.

“Then you can’t give up on the bastard. But damn, Syn. You really need to decide if all of this pain you are obviously feeling is worth it. You need to realize that you can’t change him. So you better be able to love him like the jackass he is.”

I nod and turn to stare out at the rising sun. Tears fall freely at the words of the boy I first loved. I question if Rhye’s actions can ever corrupt what I’m feeling for him? Do I want to walk away now, before everything becomes blackened by his inability to love himself? Part of me says yes, but then the other part, the one that knows he’s the one for me, whispers to hold on and fight. I have to make a decision now and never look back.

“Where the fuck is she?” my voice booms at her manager for the hundredth time. In only twenty minutes, we are supposed to go on stage at the Staples Center for the Grammys, and no one has heard from her since last night. “Goddamn it to hell,” I say to the wall as I slam my balled fist into it. FUCK! My fingers throb from the impact, but the pain doesn’t come close to this knee-dropping agony aching in my chest.

“Rhye, I don’t have a clue where she is, and I’m really worried. This isn’t like Syn. Maybe you can explain to me what really happened last night?” her manager, Trina somebody, says.

What happened? Shaking out my hurt hand, I turn away, running my good hand through my hair. Fuck! Things were going great between us yesterday. More than great, fucking amazing. She gave herself to me, and for the first time, I knew what making love was, but it also scared the fuck out of me. I’ve never not put a rubber on, and the scariest thing was that it never entered my mind until afterwards. That’s what she does to me. She gets under my skin, seeing everything that no one ever should.

I got caught up in her, and it freaked me the fuck out. For the past several weeks, the nicotine hasn’t been cutting it to help with my jitteriness, so I’ve been smoking a joint or two to get by. Nothing serious, but damn, everyone was making a big goddamn deal out of it. Yesterday, when I got the chance, I went out to burn off some of the freaked out shit in my mind. No big deal.

Last night at the party, things were going great until I majorly fucked up. I knew where all the good shit would be, and after using the restroom, I told myself I was just going to drop by to take a toke to get me through the night. You name it, and I could have easily scored it, but I only took a hit off a joint that this girl had burning and was heading directly back to Syn when Jared and Ian spotted me, and I got cornered to listen to their bullshit.

Syn must have seen that chick come by, right before she came over to me. What was I supposed to do? She was just being friendly, and I honestly didn’t even get a hard-on at her offer to give me some head. Then, Syn came storming in, blowing things up, and I was just pissed. I don’t need a momma, and I sure as shit don’t need her threatening me with her love.

When she ran out, I was going to run after her, but one of the record label suits saw what happened and was giving me a lecture on keeping our bullshit private. I watched that fucking bastard, Tag, go after her. I guess she left with him because they both seemed to disappear after the party. I went straight home, and Josh and I tried to track her down.

Josh told me about her knowing I was smoking pot. He reminded me that, sometimes, when you love something or someone, the best choice is to let them go. Putting them through hell, day after day, isn’t fair. Maybe, after I get my shit together, we can make it work.

I laid in bed all night, the same bed that still smelled like her, the same bed where she made me part of her forever. I love her and need to let her go. I sat up in the bed and grabbed my guitar. Josh’s words reminded of a song I heard recently called “Let Her Go,” and by memory, I tried to play it. The lyrics came to me as I strummed the guitar, and the words connected to the heart that Syn found inside of me.

All night, I stayed awake, waiting for her so that I could tell her that she needs to go before I destroy her. I knew she would fight me, and I was ready for it, but the hours passed, and Syn didn’t return. Suddenly, I started to realize that maybe I needed to talk to Syn about what she wanted, make sure that she truly wanted me out of her life, because I don’t want to hurt her. I need to tell her how much I love her. I fucking love her. What would I do without that crazy girl in my life?

This morning, I woke Josh up, pounding my fist on his bedroom door. When he opened it, the fucker only had boxers on, which was a scary image, but I did what I came to do and handed him my pound of weed. He didn’t say anything, just patted my shoulder and closed the door in my face. He was proud of me. I could tell. It’s how we are.

Nobody has heard from her today. Not me, not Josh, not her manager, and not even her band. Our performance is supposed to be an acoustic version of our song. Both of us will be playing our guitars while sitting and facing each other on stage. I can’t see her missing it, but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I finally pushed her away for good. I have to live with that. Fuck, I love her, and now I have to let her go without it being what I want. “Damn, Rhye. Good job fucker,” I quietly murmur to myself. I’ve never wanted to cry so fucking bad, but I guess it’s never too late to develop a sensitive side because, right now, I want to bawl like a baby.

“Rhye, we are going to have to let them know to cancel your duet. We can’t hold off any longer,” Jimmy, my manager, says to me.

Jimmy has also been proud of me. I know this because he tells me every damn day. He wouldn’t be so proud if he knew the truth would he? But, it’s in the past now. I restarted my sobriety again today, and I can do it this time. It’s all about not giving up, starting over until it takes. That’s what Josh says anyway.

“Give her a couple of more minutes, Jimmy. Please,” I plead with him. I can’t miss the surprise on his face at my request. It’s not the Rhye that he remembers. He nods his head and walks away to speak with her manager, still on the phone trying to find her.

I see a commotion at the door, and my stomach sinks, knowing they’re coming to get us, and now I’ll have to cancel. Instead, a beautiful blonde walks through, an angel to my rescue. Her fancy dress and matching makeup make her look fucking gorgeous, but again, it’s what’s on the inside of Syn that shines. The only non-perfect thing about her are the pink eyes she sports. You can tell she’s been crying. She glances around at everyone until she finds me.

With one single solitary action, she brings me to my knees. She smiles. And I smile back. I watch her take a step towards me when they call us to the stage. Everything happens fast. Her manager grabs her by the waist and says how worried we’ve been. So many people start ushering us to the stage at the same time. I grab my guitar and watch her pick hers up by the door she just walked in.

After they go through all the directions, I try to make my way to her, but before I can speak, we enter a silent zone where a television camera could easily pick up any backstage conversation. We stand in hushed tension then follow the ushers, holding small flashlights, as they guide us to the blacked out stage. I sit down on the chair they have set up, and Syn takes a seat diagonally across from me.

At first, we both stare at each other through the semi-darkness, and I see her open her mouth to speak, but before she can, we hear a thunderous applause as huge curtains move to reveal us on the stage. The lighting is hundreds of lit candles in the background to set the scene. She looks at me and begins to play, my cue to join in.

We play the first few music lines of “Wasted Heart” before Syn’s pure country voice starts in. She looks at me and sings, “When I say that I love you, boy. And you still walk away. I’m not sure what to do. Or even what to say. Do you know how much I care? How can you possibly know? You take me to my highest high. And bring me to my lowest low.”

I watch the tears gather in her eyes, and my heart skips a beat, knowing that she means every single line. She is speaking directly to me when one tear falls, but her voice never halters.

“I don’t know how to revive the ceaseless beating. Or even a way to make it start. I’m lost trying to find my way, inside your wasted heart.”

For a second, I forget my words, and then I’m afraid they’ll come out in a squeak when I do remember them. The emotions that she brings forth in me run too deep, making our lyrics heartfelt apologies and promises. I glance into her eyes and sing straight from my heart. “There is nothing you can say. When I can’t hear your words. Especially when my heart no longer feels the rhythm or the chords. My eyes don’t see the beauty or the wonder you possess. When everything within me is devoured in this emptiness.”

By the time I reach the chorus, she joins me. Our voices blend, melding together in harmony, and I know that our lives would do the same if we would just let them.

When the bridge starts, I sing only for her, “If I could have relinquished this fear, it would have been for you. Given my demons up, if I only knew how to find my way to you.” I play my guitar riffs and then glance into her beautiful eyes to finish. “And I don’t know how you revived the ceaseless beating. And made it restart. I want you to stay, inside this once wasted heart.”

She stops playing when she hears the altered lyrics at the end. I finish the last chord and look into the eyes that have changed my life forever. “I love you,” I say to her, leaning in until our lips touch. The sound of everyone cheering for our performance is deafening, but we don’t let it bother us. Syn lets her guitar drop to the ground and rushes to sit on my lap, deepening the kiss.

Pulling away, she whispers over the crowd and into my ear, “I love you, and I’m going to fight for us. It doesn’t mean I’m going to let you get away with your crap. I’m going to call you on it, and we are going to fight, fix it, and get over it. Agreed?”