Founded on Goodbye by Kat Singleton
Six Months Later
I wipe my clammy hands on the denim of my jeans for what feels like the hundredth time. Sitting on the hood of my rental car, the sun beats down on the exposed skin at the nape of my neck. I spent at least an hour perfecting my hair into beachy waves this morning, but after waiting in the parking lot for thirty minutes, I had to put my hair up in fear I’d sweat right through the outfit I spent hours picking out.
When ordering the rental, I got the news that I only had two choices for a vehicle. I could take a mammoth sized truck or a minivan. I opted for the minivan. About two minutes into the drive, I began to wonder if I should’ve gone with the truck when I realized the air conditioning was only blowing hot air. The circulating Arizona air did nothing to help cool me the hour drive it took me to get here. I hadn’t thought about what I’d do when I reached my destination. After getting off the phone with Monica, I booked a red-eye flight and ended up in the middle of nowhere, Arizona.
I’ve been sitting on the hood of the minivan for hours, where I’m currently listening to my sister rattle on about a new friend she made at a Zumba class, when the large gates of the facility open.
“Len, it’s happening,” I say, panicked.
“Do you see him?” she asks from the other line.
“I can’t do this,” I tell her, sliding off the car.
“You’ve got this, Nora,” she says. “Call later with updates!” The line goes dead, and I’m left watching Nash get closer and closer to where I stand.
I’ve pictured this exact moment in my head for almost a year, but now with Nash standing in front of me, I’m utterly speechless. The last time I saw him in person, he was walking out of my hotel room. I had stayed in bed, so many things running through my mind. I wanted to apologize, to beg for his forgiveness, to tell my side, but I knew all of it would be futile. What I did was something we couldn’t come back from. If there was any chance of hope that Nash would look at me again and not see betrayal, I had to give him space first. So even though it broke my heart to stay quiet, even as he kissed my forehead, whispering that he’d always love me, I’d done it. For him. Because I didn’t deserve him then. I know I don’t deserve him now. But there’s been enough time and space between us now, that I just want to be able to tell him how sorry I am for everything.
It takes him a moment to notice me. He’s too busy thumbing through his phone to really pay attention to the world surrounding him. A nurse in a pair of sage green scrubs captures the rest of his attention. They speak and it seems friendly, an easy conversation being held between the two of them. I miss when the conversations between me and him were easy. Now, they’re filled with angst and regret. I absentmindedly wonder if anything has transpired between the two of them in the six months he’s been at this facility, but I soon realize that’s none of my business.
He’s in the middle of saying something to her when he looks up, his eyes crashing with mine.
Oh my god. I forgot what it was like to have his attention on me. Those blue eyes are relentless, tracing a line from the top of my head and all the way down my body. He doesn’t look surprised to see me. In fact, he shows no emotion at all. I’m desperately trying to read his face, his body language, to gauge his reaction to me being here, but I can’t get any kind of read on him.
Whispering something to the nurse, and to my jealous disappointment, he gives her a hug. The hug looks strictly platonic, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt just a little, watching him wrap those arms around somebody else.
She retreats toward the brown building, the gates closing shortly after her.
Nash takes a deep breath before walking my way and stopping in front of me. “It seems my countless hours of therapy are being put to the test before I even leave the property,” he says, putting both his hands in his pockets. His hair is shorter than the last time I saw him. It’s cropped closer to his head, his hair at the top barely long enough to be able to curl.
Taking a deep breath, I try to gain my composure, the apology I rehearsed in my head the whole way here completely forgotten now that he’s in front of me.
He rocks back on his heels, looking around the parking lot. “Tell me, Nora, was there no one else available to pick me up from rehab?”
“Wellness Center,” I correct, thinking of all the tabloid headlines about Nash in the last six months. To put it lightly, he had a very bad spiral after everything transpired between us. He performed every show clearly under the influence until one day he fell off the stage completely, landing himself in the emergency room with a concussion. He was able to finish the last couple of shows he had left, but the second the tour ended, there were reports of him checking himself into an unknown treatment center somewhere.
I tried calling Monica for months, trying to figure out where he was so I could send a letter, but she was tight lipped. Eventually I annoyed her enough to convince her to tell me when he’d be leaving a center, that way I could apologize then.
Which leads to this moment right now.
Nash is about to speak, but I cut him off, needing to get these words off my chest before I lose my nerve.
“Nash, I’m sorry,” I say. My heart now hammers against my chest and I can feel the sweat gathering on my neck. “What I did to you, there will never be enough words to describe how incredibly sorry I am for it. I got lost in the appeal of finally following the dream I had for myself, for my sister, that I lost all sense of my morals. And I hate it. I hate what I did to you so much, because you didn’t deserve it. You needed someone to show you all the good in this industry and instead, I showed you every dirty, ugly thing about it. And I’m sorry. So. Freaking. Sorry.” My voice cracks even though I’m trying like hell to keep it together.
I look up from my shoes, meeting his eyes once again. “There were countless times I wanted to come clean and tell you, but honestly, I was scared to. I was a chicken. I didn’t want to lose the way you looked at me. For the first time in so long, I felt safe with a man, and to my shock, I was falling for someone. I was falling for you.”
My eyes roam his face, taking in what’s familiar and what’s changed. I take a second to gather my words, not knowing how long he’ll give me to explain myself. “I got lost in the lie, and in the process, I began lying to myself. I’d pretend I got on your tour the way everyone else did, by talent, and that by some miracle, you’d developed feelings for me. I got so lost in my feelings for you that by the time I remembered all the deception it took to get me there; I was too afraid of losing you. I know that isn’t any excuse, and I’m not even trying to make an excuse for myself. There is none. What I did to you was such a shitty thing to do and I’m so sorry for it. If I could take it back, I would. Even though it would mean that I wouldn’t have met you or loved you, I’d take it back because knowing that I knowingly hurt you, it’s awful.”
He shakes his head, his eyes scanning over me. I’d give anything to know what he was thinking, to know what comes to mind when he looks at me. He runs a finger over his lip. “You came all this way to say that?”
I laugh nervously, realizing how crazy it seems. I push a few stray hairs out of my face, making sure I can see him. “Yes. I didn’t know if I’d ever get another chance. I jumped on a red-eye plane to apologize again. I just needed you to know that I’m so sorry for hurting you, and that even though I hurt you, I did have feelings for you. I fell for you so hard that I became selfish. I couldn’t lose you and, in those feelings, I didn’t come clean. I’d do anything to take it back, to be with you again. But in the time we’ve been apart, I’ve realized that sometimes no matter how much you love someone; it doesn’t make you right for them. I understand that, so I know our ship has sailed. I just needed you to know everything was real—and that I’m sorry for what I did.”
Nash looks like he’s about to say something, but the scraping of tires on asphalt has us both turning our heads. A large black SUV pulls up, Sebastian opening the door of the passenger side.
“Sorry, boss. We were supposed to be early but there was traffic. I tried calling you but—” Sebastian’s words cut off when his eyes land on me. “Oh,” he says, moving his head up and down. Matt opens the door to the driver’s side, slightly narrowing his eyes when he sees me.
“Yeah, I was getting ready to give you a call,” Nash says to Sebastian. He looks away from me, stepping around me to go say something to Sebastian I can’t hear. Both Matt and Sebastian get busy loading bags I didn’t know had been brought out. I must’ve been too busy trying to profess my love and apologize to Nash to notice.
While the two of them load the car, Nash comes to stop in front of me once again. This time, our bodies are closer. We’re so close I can see both the blue and green in his eyes. I can see the slight tic of his clenched jaw. It’s the closest I’ve been to him since our last night together. I want to reach out and touch him so bad, but I don’t think that’s something I’m allowed to do anymore.
“Thank you for coming, Rose.” One of his knuckles brushes over my cheek, slightly caressing my neck. “It’s so fucking painful to see you, to look at you, but I’m now in a better place. I can deal with the pain. It’s actually good to see you.”
“Ready, Nash?” Matt says from a few feet away from us. It’s clear that Matt is aware of what I did to Nash, and he’s not Team Nora.
I nod my head slowly, knowing that is my hint to get lost. I’ve said what I came here to say, now I need to let him go—for good.
Trying not to let any tears fall, I swallow slowly. I look up at him one last time, memorizing every single detail of him. The unruly hair, now a little more tame than it used to be, the eyes that look more blue or green depending on his surroundings, the cleft on his chin, a place I’d kissed many times. I commit every single thing to memory, thankful that if only for a moment in time, I got to know this man, to love this man.
My hand caresses over his prominent cheekbones, savoring his skin against mine one last time. “I hope you get everything you ever want, Nash Pierce. You deserve it. You deserve it all.” I turn around and run back to my car, not brave enough to look at him again. I wish I could drive away in something cooler, but my life has come to using a minivan as a getaway car.
The backs of my thighs stick to the hot leather as soon as I try and slide into the car. I fumble with turning the car on as fast as possible, the dash in front of me going blurry with unshed tears. I thought I was done crying over Nash, but I don’t know if I’ll ever get to a point where I don’t shed a tear when I think of him.
He was my great love—my rain show. A love that comes once in a lifetime, but not the kind I could keep forever.
Speeding away from the rehab facility, I hope that last exchange was closure enough for the both of us. The end of me and Nash was sad enough to write a breakup song about.
He once told me I could keep the memories, that he didn’t want them anymore. I wanted to tell him that was fine. I’ll take the memories and the heartbreak—they’re the only two reminders I have anymore to prove that at one point in time, we were us.