EPIC (Book 1 of the Soundcrush series)

Chapter 28: Rock Stars Give Good Gifts

Kat

Trace makes up for dinner with a room service spread for breakfast. Omelets, praline bacon, some kind of cajun skillet with sausage, peppers and potatoes, fresh fruit, beignets. Incredible coffee. For once, I pile my plate to eat with abandon, promising myself to skip lunch, since I'm sure our date entails dinner plans.

We sit on the balcony, which overlooks a private courtyard, and talk easily for more than an hour—part reminiscence, part catching up, part plans. I agree to spend the next two weeks on tour, and see how it goes from there. He tells me we are headed to Jacksonville, Miami, and then back up through the Carolina's—Charleston, and then Charlotte. From there, Soundcrush heads up the Eastern Seaboard, and then hits Europe in mid September. The tour ends early next year, and then Soundcrush is on hiatus except for Hollywood-type appearances until they reconvene in the fall to start writing for their new album. He mentions the hiatus and travel again, but this time he tempers it with the option of us traveling next summer, between my freshmen and sophomore years of college. He tells me I'm in the driver's seat with an open invitation, and that I can come and go on the Soundcrush tour as I please, that he wants me with him as much as I can and want to be there.

I don't know what to do with that kind of offer. I thought he was joking around, showing off, last night. But the way he's mapping things out, explaining to me my options—it's kind of freaking me out. I've been thinking all this time, that Trace is still the nineteen year old kid I knew when we parted ways, except that the rock star lifestyle had made him more impulsive and reckless. The party-hard, only-live-once attitude is definitely a part of Trace, but he also has a more mature side now that I'm getting a view of here, over breakfast.

I realize with a shock that my boyfriend is not a kid anymore. He's not even a college student that's following a safe, set pattern in between being a kid and a grown-up. Trace left all that behind years ago. He's a man who has traveled the world, makes all his own decisions, and has the means to execute virtually any decision he makes. He has a hundred times my experience—and I'm not just talking about it bed.

Suddenly I feel extremely insecure. Why does he even want me? Shouldn't he want someone more sophisticated, someone more on his level? And how can I keep up with him? I'm just barely an adult, and I certainly don't feel like a grown woman. I feel like a lucky, well-off girl, a college student with a perfectly safe and unremarkable plan for my future, guided by my parents. As soon as my parents hit port and get my email, enough shit is going to hit the fan. I can't imagine telling them I am not going to Duke, but around the world with Trace.

They hold him responsible for Ashlynn's accident. I don't—I hold myself responsible. But they need somebody to blame, and Trace is the obvious choice. He took me to the party where I got wasted. He called Ashlynn for help. Ashlynn got hurt in his house. He called 911.

They don't know what I know. How he helped her. How he's still trying to help her.

I wonder if I should tell him, that I heard what really happened that night. How he and his dad argued, and then the sounds of blows and crashing against walls and Ashlynn yelling. And then her crying out, and the thud, and the shocked silence. The frantic argument in which Trace stood up to his dad.

Should I tell him that I know he saved Ashlynn's life that night?

Looking back, I still can't believe that I didn't rush down the stairs to my sister. I knew she was hurt, but I couldn't move. The sounds that had awoken me were so violent and scary—I pushed them away, paralyzed with drink and fright. I just lay there listening, with my heart pounding, hoping I would wake from the nightmare. I didn't move at all, until the responders were treating Ashlynn and Trace came to wake me. I pretended to be asleep. I hid under the covers like a terrified child, and I will never forget how that felt. I wonder how many times Trace did the exact same thing...