Chapter Sixteen
Jake
2014
The fourth morning Jake woke up without Molly beside him—without her warm body inches from his fingertips or the sight of her messy blond hair strewn across the pillow—he climbed out of bed with a fire in the pit of his stomach. He put on a pot of coffee and grabbed his notebook and sat down on the floor in front of the table where he liked to do his writing.
And all day, Jake wrote. And rewrote. And crossed out sections and crumpled up pages and strummed lightly on the guitar in between, until he was sure the new song was nothing short of perfect. Then he called Sam.
“You okay, Danner?” Sam sounded concerned. “We haven’t heard from you. We have a show tomorrow, remember.”
Jake rubbed the nape of his neck, realizing he hadn’t bothered to brush his teeth all day, or change out of his sweats. He hadn’t eaten anything except a couple of pieces of toast around noon.
“Molly left,” he told his oldest friend. “We had a fight the night we got back from tour. She left and hasn’t answered my calls since. I’ve sent texts, emails … but nothing.”
“Oh, Danner.” Sam’s voice was heavy, empathetic. He was in a long-term relationship with a girl named Caroline. Jake knew that Sam, more than Hale, would be able to understand. “What happened?”
Jake sighed, considering the question. He thought of Molly’s words the night she left—This is about more than just the picture, Jake. It’s not what you did, it’s what you didn’t do.
It shouldn’t have taken Jake until now to realize what she meant—he knew that he was emotionally stunted in this way—but the truth was, he’d needed a few days to process, to let it all land. Jake had never loved a girl the way he loved Molly. Sisi was his only other serious relationship, but what he’d had with her didn’t compare. He’d had an especially weird taste in his mouth regarding Sisi ever since she turned up at the show in West Palm Beach and came on to him at the club. He couldn’t shake his vague suspicion that Sisi had had something to do with the photograph Molly received in her email—the one of him being aggressively kissed by that random girl. But that was insane, Jake told the more rational half of his mind. Sisi might’ve been drunk that night, but she wasn’t crazy. At least not that crazy.
And even if a subliminal part of Jake suspected her involvement, it was best to keep that theory to himself, he reasoned. The last thing he wanted to do was make Molly think there was a jealous ex in the picture—let alone a jealous ex who lived in New York.
If Molly ever spoke to him again, that was. If he’d fucked it up for good, he knew he’d never forgive himself.
“I was just … I was a total dick to her when we were away,” Jake told Sam. He decided not to mention the photograph. “And I didn’t even realize it. I was just thinking about myself and the band and getting caught up in the allure of it all. I stopped prioritizing her. I didn’t call her when I said I would—I fell off the face of the earth. I made and then broke all these promises. And I don’t know why. There’s something wrong with me, Sam.”
His friend was quiet for a moment, and Jake sensed that Sam knew exactly what he was thinking. What if I’m turning into my father? Jake also knew that Sam would never treat Caroline this way, and he suddenly felt so acutely awful—a sharp, intense pang of self-loathing—that he almost couldn’t bear it.
“Well, tour was a shit show,” Sam said eventually. “We drank too much. I don’t think any of us knew it would be like that.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“It’s not like you cheated on her. And that crazy chick who tried to rape you on the dance floor in West Palm does not count.”
“It’s not about that.” Jake picked up the bottle of beer he was drinking—his third of the afternoon—and tipped what was left down his throat. “Was Caroline mad at you?”
“No, but I’m a better communicator than you are. You’re shit with your phone.”
“I know.”
“So if you know, you have to be aware of it, and you have to try to be better about it. It’s not that hard.”
“Don’t make me feel worse, Sam,” Jake said, though part of the reason he’d called Sam, not Hale, was for precisely this reason. Sam’s morals were solid, and he liked it that way. He liked playing the role of big brother to Jake and Hale—he always had, ever since they were kids. Jake needed that right now.