Can't Look Away(78)
“You know what?” Molly swiped the tears from her cheeks. “Just because you’re having a shitty stretch doesn’t mean you can act like a total dick in front of other people. You humiliated me tonight. In so many ways I can’t even list them all. And you don’t even give a shit that I’m upset.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Molly. I’m sorry I humiliated you in front of your boyfriend Hunter.”
“Why are you suddenly pretending to be jealous of Hunter? I know you’re not actually—you don’t give a shit that I spend time with him. You don’t actually notice a single thing that I do!” Molly was so angry, she was shaking. She steadied her hands on the counter.
“Did you ever think that maybe I do notice? That maybe I am jealous you’ve gotten so close with him and that you clearly care a whole fucking lot what he thinks about you?”
“Hunter is my friend, Jake. Don’t make this about him. This is about us. This is about you acting like a bitter, entitled ass who doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”
“You think I don’t care about you?” Jake’s eyes narrowed, blazing blue. “How can you even imply that?”
“I think you used to care about me. Now, I’m not so sure. Now it seems like all you care about is the band. And if things aren’t right with the band, things aren’t right anywhere else, and certainly not with us. Tonight was the first time in weeks you’ve asked me how editing is going and only because Blair brought it up.”
Jake was silent for several moments, staring down the neck of his beer bottle. Finally, his gaze lifted, landing on hers. “I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere for the first time all night. “I feel like I’m under so much pressure—it drives me mad. I love Danner Lane so much that sometimes I feel like I’m going out of my mind. Sam and Hale, they’re my family. And this is our shot, and if we screw it up, if I lose them … I’ll lose my whole foundation, the only solid thing I come from. But, Moll, what I’m trying to say is that as much as I love the band, I love you even more. Please, please know this. Even if I’ve been a shit lately. You’re my heart.” Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes, his bottom lip quivered. Molly saw it then, lucidly. How broken he was. Jake was broken and maybe he always had been, and it didn’t have anything to do with her.
His phone rang then, buzzing in the back pocket of his jeans. He pulled it out, looked at the screen. “It’s Sam. I should—”
“It’s fine. Take it.”
Molly filled a glass with tap water and brought it to the bedroom. She changed into boxers and an NYU T-shirt, and while she brushed her teeth and washed her face, she thought back to Danner Lane’s cover of “Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters,” the first night she ever saw Jake. It was such a beautiful, beautiful cover. Why didn’t they play it anymore?
She popped in headphones and found the song on Spotify, nestling against the pillows.
And now I know
Spanish Harlem are not just pretty words to say
Molly played the track over and over again. She saw Jake’s face with vivid clarity at the Broken Mule, the way he’d found her eyes in the crowd and held on to them through the entire show. There had been something so genuine in his expression, something that filled her heart with hope that night and had ever since. Maybe it was the hope of them that had always been enough, that had allowed them to come this far.
She listened to the song until her pillow was damp with tears, until Jake came into the room and pulled the headphones out of her ears and kissed her deeply. It was a kiss that almost made her forget they’d been fighting.
“What did Sam say?” she whispered in the dark.
“There’s good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”
“I don’t care, Jake. Just tell me.”
He exhaled, sinking down onto the bed. “Jerry talked to Ron. Precipice is having more success in Europe, so they’re extending our European tour. That’s the good news. But … it’s long. We’ll be on the road for a while. A few months, maybe. And it could be more time overseas; if the tour goes well, they might have us play in a few of the top festivals over there next summer. We might even get to headline one.”
“Jesus. That’s huge, but … I’m guessing that’s also the bad news.”
“It’s a crazy long time to be away, I know.”
“When do you leave?”
Jake shook his head. “Not sure yet. They need to confirm dates. But it’s looking like later this fall. Maybe November.”
“Wow. That’s kind of soon.” Molly was suddenly bone weary—from dinner, from another blowout fight with Jake, from the constant strain on their relationship that didn’t seem to be going away. Her eyelids drooped, and all she wanted was to close them.
“I know.” Jake smoothed a lock of hair off her face, which was sticky with dried tears. “I’m gonna see if they’ll fly you over for a bit. It’s the tour manager I need to check with, not Dixon. But I really will ask this time. I promise.”
“We’ll figure it out,” she mumbled sleepily.
“Moll?”
“Mm?”
“I’m sorry I was a jerk tonight. I really do love you.”
“I know.”