This drunk, with my mind full of Kalli, I don’t think about all the promises I’d made to myself to let go of the music. I’d made a choice when we I came back to Austin, cutting short the band’s tour last summer. The gang had all been really cool about it. No one threw a fit that I’d ruined our summer plans. Rook went back to the tattoo parlor early. Owen took the opportunity to catch up on partying. And Bridget … well, that’s when things had started with us. In the beginning, I tried to juggle it all. We played a few local gigs, bars where we’d gotten our start a few years prior. But there was a reason we had organized the summer tour. We were bored with playing the same old places, tired of feeling like we weren’t going anywhere.
Then things got busy. I was jumping through hoops to get into the business program last minute. Mom needed help. There was all the shit with the lawyers and getting ready for Dad’s trial. I had to skip a gig here and there, and though Owen and Bridget could both sing, they weren’t used to singing lead, and neither of them really cared for it. Then they weren’t so cool about it (not that I blame them). A few blow up fights later, and I decided that I had to cut myself off. It wasn’t possible to keep the music and become the man I needed to be for Mom and Gwen. I’d come home. I’d made the decision to be here, and I had to see it through.
So, I quit the band completely. That was around the time that Bridget got particularly difficult, too, so I welcomed the break. But I learned fast that quitting the band in name only wasn’t enough. When I wrote in my spare time or played the guitar for Gwen, I could feel the bitterness creeping in, whispering that I’d given up too much.
By the time Dad was convicted, I’d forced myself to make a clean break. I am no longer Wilder the musician. I’m the Wilder who goes to school and works part-time at an accounting firm. I’m the Wilder who’s going to get a good, well-paying job and take care of his family. I’m the Wilder who’s determined to prove that I have more integrity than my father.
I can’t be the Wilder who writes music anymore, even if that music is about the most fascinating girl I’ve ever met.
But still, my finger taps on. And I let it.
Finally, it’s Kalli’s turn to pick her present, and I have an excuse to watch her, to drink her in. She bends to choose the last remaining gift, and her curves are burned into my brain. Lush and round, I know what it feels like to have my hands on her thighs, her ass, but that doesn’t make the itch to touch her any less maddening.
She settles back onto floor, and just as she’s about to tear away the wrapping paper, my phone starts ringing. The song is a familiar tune, heavy on the drums. The kind of alternative rock I used to enjoy playing myself. I drag my hands over my pockets, but I don’t feel my cell. Confused, I stand, searching again as the song carries on.
“Try your jacket.” It’s Kalli who says it, and when I look over at her, the phone goes quiet. My phone had been in my jacket pocket that night downtown. She’d been wearing my jacket, and she’d looked so damn good in it.
My phone starts ringing again, snapping me into action, and I grab my jacket, fumbling clumsily through the pockets until I get lucky.
Vibrating in my hand, the phone reads Mom, and my stomach sinks. As I hit answer, I step over piles of used wrapping paper, weave drunkenly around the coffee table, and head for the kitchen. “Mom?”
I plug my other ear with my finger to block out the noise of the TV as I step out of the room. I can only pray I don’t sound too drunk as I ask, “Mom, is everything okay?”
There’s a beat of silence on the other end, and I start to panic.
“I’m sorry to do this, honey. I know I told you to go to the party and have fun with your friends, but …”
“What’s the matter? Did something happen?”
“Everything is fine. But the hospital called. They had two nurses call in sick, and they asked me to come in. I would say no, but because it’s the holiday, it’s time and a half.”
Shit. I nod for a few seconds before it occurs to me that she can’t actually hear that. “Sure. Of course. You should do it. I’ll —” What will I do? She can’t go unless I can stay with Gwen, but I can’t drive home. Not like this. I’ll just have to call a cab. I’ll figure out how to get my car back tomorrow. “I’ll get there as soon as I can, okay?”
There’s another extended silence before Mom answers, “I’m sorry, Wilder. I really am.”
“Don’t be. I was getting ready to call it a night anyway.” Not entirely true. But I’m probably better off this way anyway. No sense torturing myself being so close to Kalli and being unable to actually have her. I’ve been enough of a masochist for one night. “See you in a bit.”
I hang up the phone, and shake my head. I take a deep breath and try to gauge how drunk I am. The room seems to move slower than the shaking of my head, and yep. Definitely drunk.
I sigh and walk back into the living room.
“What’s up, Dazzler?” Lennox asks.
I hold up my phone and say, “I’ve got to go actually.” I glance at the time; it’s just after midnight. I wonder how long it will take for a cab to get here once I call.
“What happened?” Kalli asks, and my stomach tightens at her interest. Our eyes meet, and I have to struggle to remember that she’s the one who keeps pulling back.
“My mom got called into work and needs me to watch my little sister.”