Tracing Holland (NSB Book 2) (14 page)

Baltimore, Maryland

September
22

“Thanks for returning my call,” Dr. Flynn says, and I squint
at a building across the street as I settle on the bench I’d found a block from
the venue.

It’s a surprisingly chilly morning and
I wish I’d brought my jacket. But that would have required planning and
foresight which
we all know I avoid at all costs. I grimace.

“I almost didn’t, then realized, you
might be the only person in existence I can talk to about this. You know, since
I literally pay you to keep my secrets.”

She’s quiet at first. I’m pretty sure
it’s my “secret” comment. “What kind of secrets are you talking about, Luke?” she
asks, confirming I’m way too good at this.

“The truth about those pictures
everyone’s talking about. I didn’t actually slip up in Charlotte. Those
pictures are old. I leaked them to take the spotlight off Callie. The media was
going after her about her past and I didn’t want them talking about her anymore.”

This new silence is because she’s
processing, and I almost roll my eyes but manage to stop myself. I’m the one
who called her after all. Not to mention, it’s a pretty big bombshell for eight
in the morning.

“So you saw your friend in trouble and
stepped in to help her by turning the negative attention on yourself.”

I sigh. “Yep, pretty much. But of
course, as usual, it totally backfired and now everyone hates me, including
Callie, and thinks I’m a total fuck up. Which I guess I am by definition.”

“You consider yourself a ‘fuck up’
right now?”

“I’m pretty much the poster boy, I
think.”

“Really. And what’s your definition of
a ‘fuck up’?”

“Come on, Doc. I see what you’re doing.
But let’s be honest, even you have to admit I’ve written the book on this.
Every time I make a choice, try to do anything, even for the right reasons, it
turns to shit.”

She’s thinking again, and I wait. It’s
gonna
be bad, but there’s nothing
I can do about it now. “Luke, can I take you up on that offer? To be honest
with you?”

“I pay you a fortune for that,” I joke.

I can almost hear her smile into the
phone. She’s a good person. We’ve always connected well. I had to try three
before I found the right fit.

“You’re a very intelligent young man.
Your self-awareness and ability to self-reflect is astounding in a lot of ways,
which is why I feel comfortable asking you to step into that role for a moment
and listen to an outside perspective.”

I brace myself. Her comfort with a
topic rarely translates into the same for me.

“Go ahead. Shoot,” I say anyway.
Time to get my money’s worth.

“If I’m understanding correctly, you
are perceiving this latest challenge as a case of good intentions gone awry.”

“Yeah. I just wanted to help Callie.”

“Luke, that’s not what I see.”

I suck in my breath. Of course it’s
not. “No?”

“No. From my perspective, I see a long pattern
of self-sabotage, disguised as altruism.”

I nearly choke as her words slam into
me.

“You still with me?”

I swallow. “Yeah.”

Her voice softens as she continues. “I
know that may be hard to hear, but I think it might help you make sense of your
frustrations at your tendency toward destructive choices. You use altruistic
reasoning to justify decisions that isolate and punish you. You believe you
need to protect others from yourself because the depression still has you
convinced that you’re not worthy of
love, that
they’re
better off without you. Deep down, part of you still doesn’t believe you deserve
happiness. You still believe you should be punished.”

I can barely breathe. She’s right. Dammit,
I hate when she’s right because it’s usually devastating.

I don’t respond for a long time and
just stare into the distance, her words ricocheting like blinding neon signs in
the darkness of my head. I think back over my life, over every relationship
I’ve had that’s important to me. When have I ever let someone get close? When
have I ever let myself be happy? The second a spark starts to ignite I do
something to snuff it out. Elena, Casey, Callie, and now Holland. I surround
myself with shallow and destroy anything that slips beneath the surface and
threatens to go deep.

“But Callie. I really did want to help
her,” I mutter finally, feeling like I need to put up some defense.

She sighs. “I know you did. I know you
believe that, but let’s look at the other side for a minute. There are many ways
a friend can help another friend in need. In this particular situation, you
could have stood by her and supported her through the challenge, provided a
compassionate ear, a shoulder to lean on,
encouragement
from your own experience. Instead, your instinct led you to try to ‘help’ her
by lying to her and damaging your relationship at a time when she needed it
stronger than ever. You removed yourself from her instead of drawing closer.”

That one hurts.
Maybe
even more than the other.
I close my eyes, wanting desperately to argue.
That can’t be right, but isn’t that exactly what happened? Isn’t that why
I’m here, talking to Dr. Flynn, shunned by everyone else on that
bus
? Hell, isn’t that exactly what I admire about all of them? Casey’s
unflinching loyalty to those he loves, even in the heat of battle. Callie’s
compassion, even when she has no reason to love.
Holland’s
inexplicable faith in people.
Then
there’s
me
who shows love by lying, rejecting, and destroying all of that. That’s not
love. Oh god, that’s what
Flynn
is saying. That’s not
love! It’s something else.
Something dark, something
poisonous.

“How are you processing this, Luke? You
still there?”

I don’t know how to respond. I’m
processing it way too well, I think. “You’ve given me a lot to think about,” I
mumble after a long pause.

She doesn’t respond at first, and I
know she recognizes my signal that I’m done with this conversation. She’s just going
to have to hope she’s gotten through. And she has. For the love of all things
holy in psychiatrist land, she has. I feel ready to puke.

“I should probably go,” I say.

“Luke, this was a very difficult
conversation, but we’re having it because there are people in your life who
love you and whom you love. This wouldn’t hurt so much otherwise. You are very
close to letting them in. We just made a huge leap. In your language, an ‘epic’
one, I believe.” I actually do crack a smile at that. “So please, just do me
one last favor. Put our conversation into action. Test it. Test
me and my perspective
. Just try telling one of your friends
what you told me. Tell them the truth about the photos. Let them in, truly in,
and see what happens. Stop showing love by punishing yourself and see what
happens to these relationships, to you and your life, when you accept real love
and return it in kind.”

I let out a dry laugh. I’m sorry, but
that sounds insane. There was nothing funny about this conversation until now. “That’s
it, huh? Just rewire my entire approach to relationships, the very concept of
Love embedded in my soul. Just undo twenty-eight years of betrayal, fear, and
pain. Yep, that’s it? All fixed?”

“Luke, I’m not asking you to do any of
that. I’m asking you to take a small step.”

“It sounds like a giant, fucking rocket
launch to me.”

“That’s because you’re projecting way
beyond what I’m actually asking. You’re skipping to the end when all I’ve asked
is for you to open the book. All I want is for you to pick one person and tell
them the truth about the photos.
A simple, tangible,
measurable action.
Tell them it was a
lie, that
you didn’t go out partying. You were trying to protect Callie. Then just see
what happens next. That’s it.”

“That’s it? And when they laugh in my
face or explode on me?”

“You can call me back and say ‘I told
you so,’ and rub it in all you want.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. But Luke?”

“What?”

“It’s not going to happen.”

∞∞∞

Eli sends me a text to meet him in catering for lunch. I do
think it’s strange, but since he’s one of the few still talking to me, I make
the effort to show up. I’m surprised to find everything looking completely
normal. Jesse, Parker, and Reece are seated at a table with Eli who waves me
over.

“Hey, Luke! Grab some food,” Eli calls.
I nod a greeting and pick up a plate. I fill it while they continue their conversation
about getting a new front-of-house console.

“What’s up, guys?” I say, taking the
empty seat across from Eli.

“Hey,” they answer.

“I meant to ask, what’d you think of
Charlotte? Do you like playing the outdoor venues?” I ask Jesse.

He smiles and shrugs. “Yeah, it was
pretty sweet. Fucking hot, though.”

I laugh. “Yeah, Charlotte in early
September can be a bitch. But you guys sounded great.”

“Really?” Jesse asks, and I like that
he seems sincere in his appreciation of my praise. Maybe he’s starting to
forgive me, too.

“Really. You seriously do have a sick
sound. I love the vibe. Your vocals are killer, Jess, and rocked that venue.”

He’s beaming now, and I can feel my cloud
start to lift.

“Thanks, Luke. That means a lot,” he
says.

“Did you get a chance to sign the
pallet?”

“The pallet?”

“Yeah, above the fireplace in the green
room. You saw that, right? With your warehouse background I figured you’d be
all over that.”

“Wait, the one with all the burnt
signatures?”

I nod. “We signed it at our first show
there.”

“Aw, damn, no. But that Coke fountain
was…”

His response is cut off by the sudden
shouts of Derrick, their bass player.

“It’s gone!” he cries, bursting into
the room.

“What’s gone?” Jesse asks.

“The bus!” Derrick continues.

We all just stare at him.

“Huh?” Jesse says. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s gone!
I went to get something just now and
it’s missing! The NSB bus is there. Tracing Holland, the crew bus, they’re all
there, but ours is gone!”

“That doesn’t make sense! How could it
be gone?”

“I don’t know! But I’m telling you it’s
not there!”

They look to us, and we just shrug.

“Maybe Rob noticed an issue and took it
in to get it checked out,” Eli suggests.

They consider that, but seem skeptical.
“Wouldn’t they tell us they’re taking our bus? I mean, all our shit’s on
there!” Parker argues.

Eli shakes his head. “I don’t know,
dude. That’s weird.”

“This is…shit! What do we do?” Derrick
cries, as the other three pale.

“I don’t know. I mean, are you
absolutely sure it’s gone? It’s not just hidden behind a tree or something?”
Eli asks, totally serious. At least, he looks totally serious. I’m about to
lose it.

Just then, Sweeny comes racing in as
well.

“Oh good! There you are! Guys, I don’t
know how to tell you this, but did you leave your bus unlocked or something?”

They all shake their heads, eyes wide.
Parker looks ready to pass out.

“Ok, because I just saw some dude pulling
around the front of the building in your bus and it definitely was not your
driver. You don’t leave the keys in the drawer, do you?”

“Wait, by the fridge?” Derrick asks,
past pale and nearly transparent at this point.

Sweeny curses. “You idiots!”

I can’t move. I can’t speak. I can’t
even look at Sweeny and Eli. Oh. My. God. I stare at my plate, focusing on
taking deep breaths. In. Out.

“What are you still doing here? Go!”
Sweeny cries. “Go chase that criminal down before he gets too far!”

“We need to call the cops!” Reece
yells, bolting to his feet. “Our manager!”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of that.
You just see if you can catch him. It’s probably just some psycho fan taking a
joyride. I doubt they’ll even leave the parking lot.”

“That happens?” Derrick asks in horror.

Eli shrugs again. “Only if you leave
your keys in the drawer. Hope you guys have insurance.”

The panic is all over their faces as
they rush from the room in a flurry of frantic anger.

We’re quiet for a moment after they
leave,
silently processing what just happened, then exchange
a look before exploding into laughter.

“Are you serious? You moved their bus?”
I cry
,
laughing so hard tears sting my eyes.