Chapter 37
Sloan
♪ Keep Your Head Up | Ben Howard
Zane brought DayQuil and NyQuil. I took the NyQuil. I needed to sleep. I needed to not think about what Jason had just told me. It was too enormous and far-reaching to even comprehend in my current state.
A decade.
This would be our life for the next decade.
I wouldn’t see Oliver grow up. I wouldn’t paint. I wouldn’t even have a home. What would be the point? We’d never be there for more than a few months.
And there was no other choice. I wouldn’t ever leave him. That was the most final thing of all. Our fates were bound—what happened to him happened to me.
The way my body cried for sleep after this news scared me because it felt like before, when I used to sleep through my depression. Only this time I hadn’t lost anyone but myself, swallowed whole by Jason’s career.
I waited until it was 6:00 a.m. in California, and I called Kristen.
“God, you sound like you have the black lung,” she said, when I launched into a coughing fit instead of saying hello.
“I know. I’ve been super sick.” I wiped my nose with a tissue. Tucker pushed his face under my arm on the bed like he knew I needed it.
She snickered. “Did Jason offer you the penis-cillin yet?”
“Uh, what?”
“Men think their penis is the cure for everything. I swear to God, I could have some terminal disease and Josh would be over here bouncing his eyebrows like, ‘Gurl, I know what you need.’”
My snort of laughter thrust me into another coughing fit.
“So how’s the groupie life?” she asked once I’d recovered.
I gave her the recap of the last week since I’d talked to her and told her what had happened this morning.
“Damn,” she said. “That sucks. What are you gonna do?”
“Nothing. What can I do? It’s his job.”
“The guy’s like a nomad. You’re just going to walk the Earth with him for the next ten years?”
“It won’t be the whole time,” I said defensively. “We’ll get breaks.”
“I should have known when you told me the dude lived in a trailer that this wasn’t a put-roots-down kind of guy.” Oliver fussed in the background. “You do not travel well either. Remember in the ninth grade when Mom took us to Coronado and your nose bled the whole time?”
I snorted. “And she kept saying, ‘This is truly unacceptable, Sloan,’ like I was doing it on purpose?”
We fell into laughter again and my mood lifted a bit.
“Look,” she said. “If this was Josh, then I’d go full nomad too. If you love him, do what you gotta do. But try and take better care of yourself.”
“I don’t even know how to take care of myself out here.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “And I miss you guys.”
She paused for a long moment. “We miss you too.”
We talked for a few more minutes and then the NyQuil kicked in. When I hung up with her, I did feel a little better.
Maybe she was right. Maybe Zane was right too. I had to figure this out. I needed more sleep. I needed to exercise and eat better.
Ernie had really pushed for driving at night instead of the day and sleeping in the bunks on the bus. Jason thought it was a good idea too, but we’d tried it a few times and I couldn’t get used to it. My mind couldn’t relax knowing I was in my pajamas on a freeway somewhere. It was just weird. And I could feel the braking and turning into parking lots and I kept waking up.
But if we did that instead of staying in a hotel every night, we’d have the days free of travel to actually do things. We’d wake up in our city instead of running out of hotel rooms at 5:00 a.m. and driving all day to get there. Maybe we could even sightsee now and then, go to restaurants. Then we’d eat better and I could get moving again.
I let out a sigh as I climbed under the covers and bunched the pillow under my head. I’d tell him when he came back that I wanted to give sleeping on the bus another try. I couldn’t keep doing the same things and expecting different results.
I fell into one of those cold-medicine slumbers. The kind where you float through the black and don’t dream.
When I woke up, Jason was there sleeping next to me, an arm draped over my waist.
It took me a few moments to blink away the confusion. The room was pitch-dark, but I could see the sunlight etching the sides of the curtains. He was supposed to be gone until tonight, running around doing media and then at his sound check.
I sat up on my elbows. The clock said noon. I’d slept five hours.
Jason stirred and opened his eyes. “Hey, you’re up. How are you feeling?”
“Groggy. What are you doing here?”
He brushed the hair off my forehead and kissed it. “I canceled my day.”
“You canceled your day?” Ugh. His publicist was going to be so pissed. “Jason…”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t cancel my concert. But we’re staying in today. We’re going to lie in bed and watch crime shows. Zane’s picking up food from the highest-rated restaurant in Memphis, and I have a doctor coming to see you in an hour.”
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 to 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.