Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
It’s reflexive. It’s instinctual. It’s what happens when you perform with the same four people for seven years and have a formula.
I kick us off with the opening chorus while playing the melody, Harley sings the first verse, and then we back him up with harmonies on the second chorus. Ryder sings the bridge, Denver takes the second verse, and Blake takes lead on the final harmonies.
The song is about loss, about celebrating those no longer with us, and toasting to the memory of loved ones, wishing they were here. I’m relieved I led this and took the opening because as the song goes on, tears sting my eyes, and I don’t trust my voice anymore.
It feels like the perfect goodbye to Cameron, but it also feels like a goodbye to something else.
On the outside, it would’ve looked like this was rehearsed. No one would imagine this was an impromptu performance. It’s why we worked so well as a boy band.
Sure, there were fights. There were hard times. And it wasn’t an instant thing. It took work to get where we were, but if this has shown anything, it’s that our connection hasn’t wavered. We’re still us.
Yet, even so, something is also missing. I want to say it’s Cameron, but my gut tells me it’s more than that.
Over a year ago, I walked away from this life wishing I had another chance.
I missed performing with these guys, and I missed the fans. Hell, I even missed the long hours in a studio.
But ever since I’ve been back, I haven’t been comfortable with signing any deals other than the temporary ones with Fandom. I’m not jumping at the chance to get back in the spotlight.
Something has been holding me back, and I know I asked for a sign, but this one doesn’t make me want to scribble my signature on the dotted line. Cameron’s death makes the idea of going back to a life where I was constantly exhausted pointless. Why do I want to go back to being judged on my image, my voice, and my choices?
I haven’t been sure of why until this moment. This moment where I let it all go.
The resentment toward the industry. The desire to be who everyone wants me to be.
Hollywood isn’t me anymore, and there’s no way I can do it without Cameron.
I think I’m done here.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Denver
Cameron’s wife is hosting a gathering at Cameron’s and her house after the funeral, but the five of us decide to do our own thing and honor him together back at my place.
Both Harley and Ryder offered theirs, but Harley has Brix’s dad living there, and Ryder has Maggie and Kaylee. Blake’s currently living out of a hotel because … reasons. I guess with him working nonstop on location for the last two and a half years, he’s used to it. My house is the logical decision.
We’re all mentally exhausted after the service. I don’t think we’ve muttered more than a couple of words to each other since the end of it. Blake’s lying on the floor in my informal living room, Harley and Ryder are on one couch, and Mason and I are on the other.
It’s just the five of us. Ryder’s and Harley’s partners went home because they wanted to give us all the space we need to mourn together.
“I thought our reunion would be a bit happier than this,” Blake says.
Harley scoffs. “No shit.”
For whatever fucked-up reason, I find that hilarious.
The others do not.
“Okay, Denny clearly had a flask on him this whole time and hasn’t shared,” Ryder says.
Ah, they know me too well. I reach into my suit pocket and pull out the flask, throwing it to Ryder.
Mason’s eyes burn into me, and I don’t want to turn to see whatever expression he has on his face. It’ll either be disappointment or anger, and I can’t deal with either right now.
In my defense—
“Wait.” Ryder lifts it and tries to look in the hole. “This feels full.”
“It is full,” I say. “I had it just in case.” And I only went to reach for it about six times.
It’s the one day I can be thankful for paparazzi and news crews. I’d like to say I refrained from drinking because I was strong enough to hold back, but I can’t be sure that’s the case. Eyes were on us the whole time, that’s all.
Ryder lifts the flask. “Well, cheers.” He takes a large swig, and I glance away.
“Give me that.” It’s Harley’s turn now, and then he caps it and throws it to Mason.
“I’m good.” Mason passes it to Blake on the floor.
“I already told you that you can drink around me,” I murmur.
“What’s happening?” Harley asks.
“Denver gave up drinking,” Mason says. “Well, he had.”
“It was full,” I point out. Now the other four are staring at me. “Go on, guys, make a bigger deal out of this. That won’t have me reaching for the bottle or anything.”