The Problem With Heartache (11 page)

First up, let’s get one thing straight: if most of your past employees let you play practical jokes on them, they were idiots. I’m nothing special, Lee. I’m just not gonna let you walk all over me. Gosh, have you met any Australians before? We don’t take crap!

On a more serious note, though, I am sorry about Jay and Lottie. That’s actually seriously not cool of me, and I didn’t even think about it. I should have popped the note under your hotel door instead. Or maybe just taken a Polaroid of Xander doing the deed and left that for you to enjoy more discreetly …

Dad’s okay. Mum sent me an email the other day, letting me know how he was. I just … I haven’t been able to write back yet, you know? I don’t know what to say …

Do you ever find that with your parents?

Kate

Dear Kate,

Do. Not. EVER send me a photo of Xander in any form of compromising position.
The only naked photo you’re allowed to send me …

You can probably still read that, but interpret it as you will.

I actually do know what you mean. It’s—I’ve never been able to kinda say it to anyone else, you know? My folks are separated, and when I go to email Dad it can be kinda hard. How do you say things about your life when you know in comparison, theirs isn’t that great? And then I worry that he’ll get frustrated typing back. That the shakes will become too much, that he’ll feel this obligation when really, I just want him to be happy. I know that in the past, things I’ve done have upset him, and I have no doubt they made his condition worse.

Now, I would give anything to make him healthy, Kate.

Anything.

Lee

I read the letter one more time, then folded it up into a neat little square and stored it in the side compartment of my bag. Somehow, during my first week on the road, Lee-
freaking
-Collins and I had developed this friendship, this strange bond.

It didn’t take away my pain.

It didn’t help me sleep when thoughts of Lachlan danced in my mind, taunting me with their ever-growing elusiveness.

But it did make me feel less lonely, and that made a difference.

It was that little bit of something that made me have faith.

I
RECOGNISED
the pain in her eyes. She wore it every day, a new mask trying to cover the grief that lurked underneath.

The sort of grief that churned in your body.

The sort of grief you couldn’t forget.

That was why, after the first few weeks on the road, I’d decided to make it my personal mission to make this girl smile. I knew it was dangerous; knew I shouldn’t spend too much time with her.

But sometimes, you don’t always do what’s right for you.

And you don’t always do what’s right for other people.

The problem was, the more I saw of her the more I was finding it hard to keep it professional. I felt this connection to her, for some reason. She was different to the usual team of women I saw, who were all too eager to give in to my requests. She fought back. Not only that, but I’d started to share parts of myself with her in those letters, parts I didn’t share with anyone. And given my current circumstance, that wasn’t good at all.

I glanced across the aisle of the bus to her. She was resting her head against the window, her pale skin lit by the setting sun in the distance. We were on our way back to LA again after a stint up the coast in San Francisco.

“Stop looking at me.”

I frowned. “Your eyes are closed. How can you even see?”

Kate’s lids blinked open, and she raised her brows. “You have this kind of penetrating stare thing going on. I can feel it.”

I raised one side of my lips in a smile. Kate was not afraid of me. It was … weird.

“You can penetrate me anytime.” One of the dancers, America, I think her name was, giggled, and I quickly checked the bus to make sure Jay was still down the back with Lottie and hadn’t heard. Sometimes those girls had no thought for others. Still, their attitude was what I was used to. Blatant flirting. Innuendo. Not … indifference. Not like I was getting from Kate.

I stood up and crossed the aisle, setting myself down into the seat next to her. She gave me a lazy smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Silence.

And then …

“Sometimes, until I was about fifteen, Dad would come into my room at night and just stare at me.” Her eyes stay fixed out the window at the passing traffic. “It used to really annoy me—sneaking out was that much harder when your father checked in so often.”

“Is that creepy?” I furrowed my brow.

“No.” Kate’s word wasn’t angry or shocked. It was surprisingly calm. “It was just … it was his thing, you know? And when I asked him why he did it, he’d say it was because sometimes he just couldn’t believe I was real. That he and Mom made me. And that he needed to keep me safe.”

Safety. Family. I shuddered. They were on my mind a lot lately.

“Of course, he doesn’t do that anymore.” Kate gave me a quick glance, and I saw the pain flash in her eyes. “But I can usually tell when people are staring at me, even if my eyes are closed, all the same.”

“Do you miss that side of him?”

“Yes. No. Everything.” She sighed, her head turning to face the window again. Cars sped past, the ocean a glimmer of turquoise in the background. It really was a pretty trip. “He’s still protective, and he still loves me. Sometimes it can just be hard to remember, when you have to protect him.”

I nodded. “Yeah. Not even … not even against physical things. But sometimes protect him against things people say, or do.” I’d sure had a lot of defending my dad from stranger’s looks since Parkinson’s had tightened its ugly hold around my father’s neck.

“Exactly.” Kate smiled again. She rested her head against the windowpane and closed her eyes. “Do you miss things your dad used to do?”

“Sure.” As I spoke the word, a pang hit me in my chest. “I miss talking on the phone, having a really decent conversation, you know?”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she leaned forward. “Yes! And you feel bad, for not being able to fill in the blanks …”

“Or understand each word.” I finished, and we shared a knowing look. I’d never really spoken about Dad like this with anyone. Sharing it with Kate … it just felt so right. “And then you feel bad for feeling bad. Because you know that they would hate to be felt sorry for, that they shouldn’t be a responsibility, someone you feel you have to fill silences in for, but someone you should enjoy silence with.”

Kate puffed out a long breath, and looked at me up from under her eyelashes. “You know, for a rock star, you’re a pretty wise man, Lee Collins.”

This time, my chest didn’t ache. My heart did instead. It burned.

“You can just call me Lee,” I said in a voice so soft, I wasn’t sure if she heard me. She slowly let her eyes drift shut again, and I stood up and walked back to my seat, turning my head to look at the mountains flying past as we cruised along.

Seconds later, my cell phone beeped. I picked it up, seeing Kate’s name on the screen, and turned to look at her. She was smiling, her cell tucked tightly under arm.

Kate:
Your silence is safe with me, Lee.

I knew exactly what she meant, and we spent the rest of the trip quiet, occasionally opening our eyes, occasionally smiling. For the first time in I had no idea how long, I felt as if someone truly understood.

“Lee, open up!” Kate banged on the hotel room door. I smirked, and ruffled Jay’s hair. He gave me a small, shy smile. We’d been running around my suite playing wrestling while Lottie went and got the band some new clothes for a photo shoot we had lined up later that afternoon. It was the first time I’d ever been alone with him, and we’d kind of been having fun, much to my surprise. I was stoked.

Kate probably wasn’t, though. This wasn’t the first time she had knocked.

In fact—I gave a quick glance at my watch—she’d almost been at it for three minutes now. I looked down and shrugged. I wasn’t wearing a shirt, but since seeing her blush that first day, I’d almost made a point of trying to find ways to go shirtless around Kate. Watching her blush was just too much fun.

Punctuating each step with a light pant—seriously, for a small kid, Jay could really run—I walked over to the entranceway. I wrenched open the door and she stood there, clipboard pressed against her chest, looking fresh as a goddamn daisy, as per usual. She looked me up and down, and I wiped my sweaty palms against my jeans before using one to usher her in.