The Rocker's Muse

“I have no idea.”

“You never tried to look her up?”

“No.” I shook my head. “For a while, I didn’t want to know, but now it doesn’t matter. So much time has passed. But the closest I’ve ever come to feeling something for someone like that has been with Emily. Being on this rollercoaster of a career has numbed my feelings for a long time. It’s hard to meet the right people when you’re surrounded by mostly the wrong people. It’s rare to meet someone you connect with. And when you do? You remember what it feels like to be human again.”

“Why are you so sure it’s over between you and her?”

“She made it clear she doesn’t want to pursue anything further. The reason isn’t as clear. But it doesn’t matter. I need to back off. And today is day one of that. So you don’t need to worry about me getting in over my head anymore.” I sighed, hardly trusting my own assurances. “Now, what you do need to worry about is my fucking voice. I won’t get to see the doctor until we’re in L.A. I’m gonna need to go quiet again today.”

“All I can do is pray, man. I don’t have the right answers, nor do I understand all of the medical articles Ronan has been sending me.”

“He has?”

He nodded. “Dude’s been researching all these ways to help you. But it’s kind of hard to make herbal tinctures on tour.” He laughed. “I told him he needs to stick his tincture up his sphincter.”

I let out a guttural laugh. “You gotta love that guy for trying. More than you do for me, asshole.”

“Ronan’s a better man. That’s for sure. All I’ve been doing is complaining.” He came over to pat me on the back. “Anyway, I’m glad we had this talk, even if it started with me chastising you.”

“That’s how all our talks start, don’t they?”

His face showed a rare sincerity. “I know I can be rigid sometimes. But I don’t want you to think I don’t care about your happiness. If some girl makes you happy, makes you remember who you are and all that shit, more power to you—as long as you don’t lose all the other parts of you in the process. You’ve worked too hard to lose your damn mind, you know?”

“Too late for that, man.” I chuckled.

“You wanna head out for a smoke?”

I shook my head. “Nah. I slipped yesterday and had one, but I’m trying to be good.”

“Well, good on you, then.” Atticus gave me the finger before he left.

Once again alone with my thoughts, I specifically stopped myself from texting Emily. I didn’t want to be that guy who couldn’t take a hint when someone needed space. It didn’t matter how much I wanted to see her, how much she calmed me. I needed to do what was best for her—and that was listening to what she’d told me she wanted.

I needed to get everything off my chest, though. If I wasn’t going to call her, writing a letter would be my way of communicating. Texting seemed too informal for this, and I didn’t want her to feel like she needed to respond. Writing a letter would make it impossible to cross the line or do anything stupid. Stephen could deliver it for me. I would say what I needed to say, then focus on getting my head back into the tour. Maybe I could put this damn angst to good use and write some fucking music again. Now, there was an idea…

Grabbing a notepad and paper, I tried not to overthink it.

Dear Emily,

You’re probably wondering why the hell I’m writing you this letter when I could just walk across the lot and talk to you. But you clearly want space. Even if I don’t understand your apprehension about me, I need to respect it. I’m not the kind of guy who pushes himself on someone who wants to be left alone. I can take a damn hint. In the spirit of respecting your privacy, I’m writing this letter instead of coming to see you. I want to reiterate that I only want what’s best for you. And I might even agree that what’s best for you is distancing yourself from me.

At the same time, we will inevitably run into each other. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable in those moments. But I won’t instigate extra time with you beyond a professional, friendly relationship. No more ridiculous delivery requests; although, I’m gonna miss those.

You know how much I respect you. I could say a lot more about my feelings, but I don’t want to make this harder than it already is. Just know that spending time with you has been the best. Even if it was temporary, I appreciated every second of it.

No hard feelings, okay? I’ll always be here if you need me.

xo Tristan

I expelled some air and looked down at the words I’d written. This sucked, but I needed closure if I had any chance in hell of concentrating on my performances again. After folding the letter, I realized I didn’t have a damn envelope. I couldn’t just hand Stephen an unsealed letter. The irony wasn’t lost on me that the person who would be tasked with running out to buy me damn envelopes would be Emily. So, I decided the best course of action would be to grow some balls, walk my ass down to her bus, and deliver the letter myself. I wouldn’t stay. I’d just hand it to her and leave. Any extra time with her would defeat the purpose of writing down what I wanted to say.

I grabbed a hat, and just as I stepped off the bus, Stephen approached. He was holding…an envelope? What the heck? Had he read my freaking mind?

I looked down at it. “What’s that?”

“It’s a letter for you…from Emily.”

What the fuck? “She gave it to you?”