Sing For Me by Rachel Schurig

Eva

There’s something going on with Will. His quiet moods seem to be getting longer and longer. More often than not, his face settles into a scowl when he thinks I’m not looking. And more than once, I glance up to find him watching me. But unlike before, when I would find his eyes dark with desire, they now seem to be constantly filled with fear.

I try to get him to open up but every time I bring it up, he insists he’s just tired from work. And he is working like crazy, staying at the shop for long hours. For the first time since Tennessee, he goes back to his apartment some nights after work, instead of coming here. It feels weird in my bed without him, like my body came to rely on his closeness in the few short weeks we’ve been together.

I can’t shake the uneasy feeling that something is wrong. And I hate that he won’t talk about it. I’ve been telling myself to give him time but I’m starting to wonder if that will be enough. What if Will never opens up to me? He seems content enough to just ignore whatever dark shit I see swirling beneath the surface.

One afternoon about two weeks after Tennessee, I get a call that I doubt he’ll be able to ignore. Silas calls me.

“Hey,” he says, sounding nervous. “Sorry to bother you, Eva.”

“It’s no bother,” I assure him, worried by the tone of his voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Um, yeah. Everything’s fine. I just…” he blows out a breath, the sound loud in my ear. “I snuck Rose’s phone to get your number.”

“Okay,” I say slowly. What could he have to talk to me about that badly? “Why didn’t you just ask your brother for my number?”

Another loud breath, this one more annoyed. “Like he’d give it to me. He barely talks to me.”

That stops me short. “Will isn’t talking to you?”

“I mean, he texts.” Silas makes a huffing noise. “Mostly on the group thread. But he’s always too busy to talk for more than a few minutes when I call. And he hasn’t been to the house in weeks.”

“You’re worried about him?” I guess.

“Yeah. I am. I just wanted to see if, you know, he’s doing okay. I asked Rose and River and they both said he’s barely at home. I don’t think he’s talked to either of them any more than he’s talked to me. And that’s not like him.”

I chew on my lip, unsure of what to say. I don’t want to tell him that I’ve had the same worries—that would just scare the kid even more.

“I know he’s been really busy with work,” I offer. “Maybe that’s all it is?”

He’s quiet for a minute. “I know you were there when he fought with dad and our uncles.”

“Um, yeah. That was…pretty intense.”

“He’s been pissed at them for a long time,” Silas says. “But he doesn’t usually keep this much distance. With them, but not with everyone else.”

“I can talk to him,” I offer. “See if he’ll open up about any of it?”

Silas laughs. “Good luck with that. Getting that guy to talk is like pulling teeth.”

“Yeah,” I say drily. “I’ve noticed.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “I just wanted to make sure he’s got someone looking out for him.”

He sounds so concerned, so sad, that it makes unease grow in my belly.

“Your brother is a strong guy,” I tell him. “But I promise I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’ll be around if he needs anything.”

He sounds more relieved when he speaks again. “Thanks, Eva. That makes me feel better.”

But after we hang up, I can’t help but feel like I gave him false hope. I know from bitter experience that you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. And I have a feeling Will is nowhere near wanting my help yet.

He comes home from work late, well after I’ve eaten dinner. Once again, he seems withdrawn, particularly when I mention having spent some time writing earlier in the day. He’s such a moody ass that I finally crack when we’re getting ready for bed.

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

His hands freeze on the pillow he was adjusting. “Nothing is bothering me,” he finally says. “Just working a lot.”

“You know that’s bullshit, right?”

He looks up at me, a flash of anger in his blue eyes. “What do you want me to say, Eva?”

Something. Anything. Just so long as it’s honest.

“Your little brother called me today,” I blurt out and I can see his entire body stiffen.

“Silas called you?”

“He’s worried about you, Will.”

“How in the fuck did he get your number?” he snarls.

“Apparently he got it from Rose’s phone when she wasn’t looking. But that’s not really the point.”

He tosses the pillow to the bed. “You know, my entire life I’ve had my family up my ass about every single thing I do. I really don’t need that shit from you, too.”

I reel back, stung by the bite in his voice. He’s never sounded so angry, not with me.

“I’m not trying to meddle, Will. I’m trying to be there for you.”

“Well I don’t need it,” he snaps. “So just stop.” He finally meets my eyes and I can see regret in his expression when he registers the hurt I’m sure is on my face. “Look.” He releases a shaky breath. “I’m just stressed about work. In fact, I’m going to go knock out some paperwork. It will probably make me feel better if I get it off my plate.”

My head spins with the change of subject. “You’re not coming to bed?”

He’s already half way to the door. “I’ll be in soon. You should get some rest—PT tomorrow, right?”

“Will—”

“Goodnight, honey.” He doesn’t come over to kiss me. Doesn’t even meet my eye. Just stalks from my room, leaving me standing next to an empty bed.

* * *

I wake up with a gasp,heart pounding, fear clutching me, making it hard to breathe. It’s a long, terrifying moment before I realize where I am.

You’re in your room,I tell myself, sucking in sharp breaths of air. It’s just dark. You’re not back there. You’re safe.

I dreamt of the fire. It’s been so long since I’ve had one of these nightmares, I almost forgot how real they feel. How I can smell the smoke, feel the hands on me and—

I sit up in bed, needing to get out of this dark room. I look over to see Will on his side, breathing even. Still asleep. Something about that feels off to me, but I can’t put my finger on it.

I climb out of bed and grab my phone to use as a light as I make my way out to the kitchen. I pour myself a glass of water then grab a throw from the couch as I head outside, needing the sharp bite of nighttime air to fully bring me back to myself.

It’s not until I’m cuddled up in one of the deck lounge chairs that I realize what feels so off. Will slept through my nightmare. Which must mean that I didn’t cry out.

I glance down at my phone. It’s nearly four, making it way too early to call anyone, even Marissa. But Luke is in New York this week, meeting with potential producers for the new show he’s writing. And if I know Luke, there’s a good chance he’s awake right now, hunched over his keyboard, completely lost to the world.

I text him first. You up?

The phone rings in my hand. “Why are you up?” he asks in lieu of a hello. “Isn’t it the middle of the night?”

I let out a breath, comforted by the sound of his familiar voice. “Bad dream.”

“I thought that might be it when I saw your text.”

“What about you? It’s not even seven there.”

“Writing,” he says, just like I expected. Luke has a hard time shutting his brain down when he’s working on something new.

“Is it going well?”

He sighs. “I love everything I’m writing right now. Which probably means it’s terrible.”

I snort. “That’s the spirit.”

“So. You want to tell me about the dream?”

I take a deep breath. “It was pretty much the same as always. Except…”

“Except,” he presses, when I don’t continue.

“I didn’t wake up Will.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, the crashing waves below the only sound in the cold night. “Well. That’s pretty unusual.”

I snort. “You can say that again.”

One of the worst things about my nightmares is how difficult it always was to wake myself up. If I didn’t have anyone else around, I could just be stuck in the flashback for hours. Luckily, I always woke other people up. I would end up crying, or talking, or even screaming. I would stay trapped in the dream no matter how loud I got, but as long as there was someone else nearby, my noise would alert them to what was happening so they could come wake me.

I wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that it hadn’t happened tonight.

“When’s the last time you had a nightmare?” he asks.

I think back. “It’s been a while. I’ve never had one with him here.”

“Hmm.” He’s quiet again, thinking it over.

“It’s weird, right? That I didn’t make any noise.”

“It’s definitely unusual,” he agrees.

I sigh. “Maybe my subconscious is so desperate for him to not see me as this huge mess that it overruled the scared part in my brain.”

Luke snorts. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just, you know, improving.”

I frown out at the dark waves. “What do you mean?”

“You said yourself it’s been a long time since you’ve even had a nightmare. And now you have one that didn’t make you cry and scream? One that you were able to wake up from on your own? That never would have happened six months ago.”

He has a point. Six months ago, I still needed someone sleeping on my couch most nights just to get some decent rest.

“There are other things, too, Eva,” he continues. “We’ve all noticed it.”

“What other things?”

“Signs you’re doing better. You’re not half as skittish as you used to be. You handle crowds much better. All that stuff with the paparazzi? I figured that would send you into a spiral but you did just fine.”

“Because I had Will,” I argue.

Luke scoffs. “Don’t give him all the credit. Hell, just the fact that you feel comfortable being with Will says a lot about your mental state, you know?”

He’s quiet for a beat while his words sink in. “You seem stronger these days,” he finally says. “Stronger and calmer and happier. All of your friends think so. And it’s been really nice to see.”

A lump lodges in my throat. “You think so?”

“I really do, Eva. And you know what? None of this happened by accident. You worked hard to get better. We’re all so proud of you.”

“Well now I’m going to cry.”

He laughs. “How about you go inside and cuddle up to that guy you’re so smitten with and let me get back to my music.”

The little bubble of happiness his words had set free in my heart wilts a little bit as I remember what had happened with Will before bed. But I force that out of my head, wanting to focus on everything Luke just said to me.

“Thank you,” I tell him, voice husky with emotion.

“Anytime, girl.”

After we hang up, I sit and watch the waves for a while more, my mind spinning with our conversation, with the idea that I might be really improving. Eventually, the night air starts to feel too chilly and I gather up my blanket and head inside.

I very nearly scream when I step through the sliding door because there’s a person sitting in the living room, in the dark. “Will,” I gasp, dropping the blanket to place a hand over my racing heart. “What are you doing?”

There’s a rattle of ice cubes and I realize that he’s holding a drink. I reach for the nearest lamp and he blinks at me in the sudden light, a glass of what looks like whiskey in his hand, a flat expression on his face.

“Who were you talking to?” he asks, his voice strange.

“Luke. What are you doing sitting out here in the dark.”

“I woke up and you were gone. I came out to check on you, but I guess you had it covered.”

He sounds so strange. Almost…accusatory. “Are you pissed about something?”

He doesn’t answer, just takes another long pull of his drink. “What did Luke have to say so late at night?”

I cross my arms over my chest, annoyance rising inside me. He’s acting like a jealous asshole and I don’t like it.

“I had a nightmare,” I snap. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“So you called Luke at four a.m.”

“He’s in New York,” I snap. “Where it’s already morning. And I knew he’d be awake because he’s writing music for his new show, and he never sleeps when he’s writing.”

Will doesn’t say anything, just watches me with that same flat expression. Eventually, his hand flexes against the side table and I see what it’s resting on—my date book. “Were you going to tell me about this?”

I don’t even need to ask what he’s talking about. The calendar is open to tomorrow’s date, information about my appointment with the new doctor circled at the top. “I was going to tell you about it after I went.”

“Did you talk to Marissa?”

“Yes.” She hadn’t been any happier about the idea than Will or my sister had been. But Dennis called me a few more times, really pressing it, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to at least meet the doctor.

“Did you tell Luke about it just now?”

I glare at him. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I just think it’s interesting.” His tone is most definitely not merely interested. “You don’t tell me about this appointment. You have a nightmare in the middle of the night, in bed with me, and instead of talking to me about it, you call another man.”

“I called my friend.”

“Because you can’t talk to me.”

I throw my arms up in the air. “Seriously, Will?”

“You dated Luke, right?” The low, sharp edge to his voice makes me want to scream. “Pretty sure he mentioned that at your party.”

I gape at him. “I dated Luke for about three seconds before we both realized we were better off as friends. We never even kissed! And it was years ago. He’s married.”

He doesn’t say anything, just watches me, eyes cold, and I feel my annoyance sharpen.

“You want to know why I called Luke?” I spit out. “I called him because after the fire, I used to have nightmares every single night. Multiple times a night. I stopped sleeping all together, Will. I had to be hospitalized again, because I was so terrified to sleep.” His jaw clenches. “My friends are the ones who took care of me. They made sure I was never alone at night. They all took turns sleeping here.” I point at the couch he’s sitting on. “Or having me at their house. And that’s the only way I ever got any rest at all. For months.”

When he doesn’t respond, I go on, voice getting louder as my temper stretches. “So, yeah, I wanted to talk to Luke tonight. Someone who has experiences with these dreams. Someone who would talk back when I shared things with him.”

He ignores my last jab, taking another sip of whiskey. It’s almost empty now, the ice cubes rattling at the bottom, and I wonder how long he’s been sitting out here in the dark while I was on the phone. “I just find it very telling,” he finally says. “It’s pretty obvious you don’t trust me.”

Silence rings in my ears as I gape at him. He did not just say that. Will, who blew up at his family in front of me then kept me in the dark for the last two weeks while he’s gotten steadily more withdrawn and irritated, retreating farther and farther into his own dark mood, did not just accuse me of not trusting him.

“I don’t trust you?” I whisper, and I wonder if he can hear the warning in my voice. He should be terrified of me right now—I’m pissed. “I don’t trust you.”

When he doesn’t say anything, I stomp over to stand in front of his chair. “You know what my nightmares are about, Will? Every single time it’s the same damn dream. I go back to those moments at the club, right after the fire started, when everyone was trying to escape.” I swallow. Do not cry in front of him. “In a stampede like that, people aren’t rational. They don’t know what they’re doing.”

His eyes narrow and he looks like he wants to say something, but he clenches his jaw instead.

“We were all trying to get through the same door backstage. It was so crowded and…” Fuck. I hate him, a little, for making me do this. For sitting there so still and cold while I relive those moments. “There was a guy, a really big guy. I think he was trying to get up onto this stack of amps to get out of the throng. And he grabbed me and…” Will’s hands clench, like he’s trying not to reach for me.

“He pulled me down. Used my body as leverage. He was panicking, totally out of his mind. And I…I was pinned under him while everyone was rushing around. More people stepped on me. Then the scaffolding came down.”

I take in a deep shuddering breath. “I told you once that being physically close to people can trigger my flashbacks. I didn’t tell you how much worse it is when it’s men. Men who are bigger than me.” I gesture at his huge form on the couch. “It was months before I could hug Luke or Caleb or even Geoff—Geoff, who I’ve known my entire life!”

I gulp in a breath, chest tight. “But you—I let you hold me, Will. I lay in a bed with you. I lay underneath you, let you inside of me. Do you have any idea how many times the scared voice in my head warns me to run? But I force myself not to listen because a louder part of my brain knows that I’m safe with you.”

I’m close to tears, angry enough to break something. “Don’t you ever fucking tell me that I don’t trust you. Every minute of every day I spend with you requires me to trust you in a way you can’t even understand.”

He just stares at me for a long, silent moment. I can see the battle in his eyes, the desire to take me in his arms to comfort me warring with something else. Something I don’t understand. Something he refuses to tell me about.

So I barrel on. “Let’s talk about trust, Will,” I say, my voice low and tight. “Let’s talk about being open with each other.”

Whatever war he was fighting in his head seems to come to an abrupt end and he stands, stalking away from me. I follow him into the kitchen, where he reaches for more whiskey.

“You don’t talk to me.”

“That’s bullshit,” he mutters, back to me.

“Yeah? Then tell me why you’re so mad at your father? Why you’re so mad at your uncles?”

His broad shoulders tense, but he doesn’t turn around. And he doesn’t say a word.

“Why didn’t I know you can play guitar like that? Why do you get so tense whenever I talk about going back to work? Why did it piss you off so much that your brother wants to be in a band—”

He finally spins around, his eyes flashing. “Because I’ve seen what that shit does,” he snarls. “That industry destroys people, Eva. And I’ve had a front row seat to the aftermath.”

I blink up at him, surprised by the sudden outburst after so much cold silence. “When?”

He runs his hands through his hair, eyes squeezed tightly shut. “I can’t do this,” he finally mutters.

“Can’t do what? Can’t talk to me?”

He just stands there, eyes closed, face like marble, and something deep inside me seems to fall from my chest into my stomach, leaden and sharp. “I’m being open with you,” I say, voice shaking. “I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone. But you have no plans to reciprocate, do you? You’re never going to tell me what’s going on in your head. You’re never going to let me in.”

He finally opens his eyes and I wish he hadn’t. I hate what I see there—so much pain and anger and something that looks a lot like hopelessness. It scares me.

“Maybe this was a mistake.”

I take a step back, more shocked than if he would have screamed at me. “What?”

He gestures between the two of us. “This was a bad idea. I’m obviously not cut out for this kind of thing.”

“For a relationship?” I ask, aghast. How could he possibly think that? Doesn’t he see all the ways he’s helped me? How much stronger I am since I met him? Doesn’t he see the way all of his cousins and siblings rely on him? How much they all adore him? Those are all relationships—and he excels at them.

“Eventually, you’re going to go back to work.” He casts a glance to the living room and the date book he left open there. “Maybe sooner than I thought. You won’t have time for me.”

“That’s bullshit,” I shoot back. “Don’t you dare blame my schedule—which isn’t even a factor yet—for you wanting out of this.”

He clenches his jaw. “You’re right. I can…I can just see how this is going to go, Eva. And I know it won’t work.”

“You mean you won’t work,” I yell, wiping at the hot tears that have only just started to fall. I don’t care anymore that he sees them. He’s breaking my heart and I want him to know it. “You won’t work on the things that scare you—talking and being vulnerable.”

He looks away, hands tightening to fists at his sides. “It comes down to the same thing, doesn’t it? This relationship was a bad idea from the start.”

I just stare at him while I silently cry, unable to believe he’s actually saying these things.

“Will,” I finally whisper, needing him to look at me, needing to see his eyes so I can try to figure out what’s going on. But he doesn’t turn, doesn’t give me his eyes. He’s closed off, checked out. Almost like he’s already gone.

“If you really think that,” I choke out, feeling my heart start to crack down the middle, “then you should go.”

He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t apologize for ripping me apart. Doesn’t kiss me goodbye. Just walks silently into the bedroom. I hear the soft noises of clothing being pulled on and a moment later, he’s returned, fully dressed.

“I’m sorry, Eva,” he mutters, still not looking at me. “I never should have pushed you into this.”

“You didn’t push me,” I shoot back, trying to instill every bit of anger and pain into my voice, needing him to know exactly what he’s doing here. “I wanted to be with you. Wanted this badly enough to battle through a hell of a lot of personal demons. Wanted this badly enough to fight for it.” I swallow back a sob. “I just wish you’d been willing to fight a little bit, too.”

He stands there for a moment and I wonder if maybe he’ll take it all back. If maybe he’ll pull me into his arms and promise we can get through whatever it is that’s holding him back.

But this isn’t one of my sappy love songs. This is real life. And in real life, Will Ransome looks up at me one last time, his blue eyes so heartbreakingly sad I can’t even breathe, and says goodbye.