You'd Be Mine(44)

“Vaguely. She emailed me last year, but we were on tour.”

Fitz clears his throat. “She checked with me this year. Emailed a few months back to let her know once we got our tour schedule. Wanted to make sure you could make it this time.”

My stomach clenches painfully like a punch in the gut. My hands sweat, and I stand up to grab a bottle out of the cabinet.

“I can’t go back there, Fitz.” My voice cracks, and I feel thirteen all over again.

“It’s been two years, Clay. They need to see you.”

“If I’m there, it turns into a publicity stunt. Danny’d hate that. He died honorably, and I’d make it a joke.”

Fitz shakes his head, disbelief widening his eyes. “Why on earth would you think that? He would be crazy proud of everything you’ve accomplished. He loved listening to you play. He’d get such a kick out of your fame.”

“He’d get a kick out of Annie’s fame. He’d tolerate mine.”

Fitz throws his bottle in the trash with a loud clang. “What the hell, man? What’s wrong with you?”

I surge to my feet, feeling miserable and wanting more than anything to let everyone know. And by everyone, I mean Fitz. Because let’s face it, he’s the only person who will listen. “What’s wrong with me? I’m a washout at eighteen, Fitz. I know booze and girls. I sing songs people drink to. I’m being overshadowed in my own tour. I’m borderline alcoholic with barely enough talent to scrape by.”

Fitz holds his hand up. “You know what? Fine. I’m not going to sit here and blow smoke up your butt. Those drinking songs have made you wealthy enough to retire by twenty. Those girls deserve better. And Annie works her ass off and is the most unpretentious, talented person I’ve ever met in this industry. She overshadows ever-loving Garth Brooks. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Fitz moves forward, his face inches from my own, lowering his voice. “And if you’re crying out for help, then I’m here for you. We can walk away today. I’ll get you in a rehab program and hold your hand and whatever else you need. If. Because all I hear is a bratty show business kid feeling sorry for himself. If I believed for one millisecond you wanted to get dry, I would drive you myself.”

I don’t say anything, and he backs up with a humorless chuckle. “That’s what I thought. We have sound check in thirty. I’ll tell Mags we’ll be there.”



* * *



The following afternoon, Fitz finds me propped against the white marble headstone that marks Danny’s resting place.

“I thought we were coming together.”

“I needed to talk to my big brother alone.”

Fitz reaches down and picks up the empty glass bottle at my feet.

“We argued,” I say by way of explanation. “Said some things we didn’t mean.”

Fitz sighs heavily and drops down next to me, picking up the little American flag presumably stuck in my brother’s plot over the holiday. “I shouldn’t have said what I did yesterday. If you want to get clean, you know I’m here for it.”

I lean my head back against the hard, smooth stone, the hot sun a giant, glaring spot in the sky. “No, you were right. I’m not ready to face this sober.”

“Danny wouldn’t even ask. He’d have dragged you to a clinic months ago.” Fitz’s voice has lost its lightness. He sounds as defeated as I feel. “I’m fucking this up.”

“Yeah, well, Danny chose his way to die. Maybe I’m choosing mine.”

Fitz laughs, shaking his head. “Christ, you’re melodramatic.”

The longer we sit here, the more I need to sleep. Stay here in the sun forever. I’d lied when I’d told Fitz I’d argued with my brother. More like I’d told him about Annie, and then that voice in the back of my mind that has the exact timbre of my brother’s told me I was a selfish prick and to quit considering whatever it was that I was considering.

There was no back-and-forth. There never was with Danny. It’s what made him such a powerful soldier. His bullet always struck true. He never wavered. His faith was honed at my grandfather’s knee, and it’s as though God himself whispered in his ear. Our parents were never really together. Dad left after I was born, and he never came back. Mom worked three jobs until the cancer leached every last bit of her spirit. We had the exact same upbringing, but somehow the adversity made Danny decisive and solid and … good. He was so damn good all the time. Even to me, his mess of a kid brother.

“I should have died, not him,” I say.

“He’d disagree. He’d say you have a purpose that keeps you on this earth.”

Music. Danny called music my purpose. My service. You make people feel things, Jefferson. He’d come to hear me play at Taps the night before he left for the desert. It was the only thing I could give my brother. We weren’t affectionate growing up. Instead, I dedicated a song to him and paid for his beer.

I grunt as I clamber to my feet, using the stone to steady myself. “Did you drive?”

Fitz shakes his head. “Kacey dropped me off. I figured I’d hitch a ride.”

Or he’d assumed I wouldn’t be able to drive myself home. This isn’t our first rodeo. I don’t ask, just toss him my keys and turn for the long walk to my truck, giving him privacy. I lost my brother, but in all honesty, Fitz and Danny were closer than we were.