Loving a Man Who Forgot Me Novel Chapter 69
I shrugged. “At this point I don’t even care. Let them sue me.
Gabe will stand with me on this. We both want out. Gio and Lowell have slowly been killing the band for a while.
They’re constantly late for rehearsals and we’ve been fined for missing studio sessions so many times it’s not funny because of those two.
It’s all about the party and getting high with them.
Gabe and I have been talking about either dropping them or getting out ourselves as soon as our contract allowed.”
“Then the only advice I can give you is, decide what outcome you can live with and see it through.
Your agent and lawyer will be there, but if you and Gabe are serious, you should probably talk to someone who isn’t representing the whole band. The label will do what they feel they need to, and you do the same.
Thanks.”
Mom and Dad hung around through dinner to make sure I was going to be alright before they headed to their hotel.
Using an old phone of Addie’s, I talked to Gabe as well as the band’s agent and lawyer, and then I called my dad’s lawyer per his suggestion to get some outside representation on our side.
Gabe and I agreed that no matter the consequences we weren’t doing this tour with Gio and Lowell. Rebel Cry was done. It was both devastating and a relief. Almost eight years we’d been a band. The first couple had been good, hell, better than good.
They were amazing, but Lowell and Gio changed along the way. We all did, but those two were on a downward spiral and I wasn’t letting them take me along for the ride. Addie said goodnight and went to bed not long after my parents left. She had an early morning flight.
I was left to my own devices on her uncomfortable, but expensive ass couch. Gabe and I texted for a little while, and I let Nash and Jesse know what was going on. Aiden must have talked to my parents at some point, because he texted to check up on me too.
I thought about calling Kat, but everything was still too raw for me to be as patient as I needed to be to get through a conversation with her. When the phone finally went dark and silent, no more texts buzzing in, I just lay there, staring at it.
I don’t know what I was thinking when I turned the screen on and scrolled through the contacts. Or maybe I wasn’t thinking and that was why I pulled up Abbi’s number. It was eleven o’clock on a Friday night.
A game night, so she was probably with her coach, and calling was a bad idea, but still I hit the call button, driven by the simple need to hear her voice. It rang and rang, and I didn’t think she was going to pick up, but then she did. “Hello?” “Hey, Abbi,” I breathed and closed my eyes.
“Uh, hey.” The line grew quiet when I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. Hadn’t thought that far past her picking up. “What’s going on, Abel? Why are you calling?” “I don’t really know,” I exhaled, and then said, “Do you remember the first concert we ever went to?
My Dad and the guys took us to that music festival, and there were all those huge bands there, but we slipped away to one of the smaller stages to watch that chick, I can’t even remember her name, do you remember it?” “Abel, I can’t . . . this isn’t a good idea.”
“Her name’s not important,” I continued, because I had to. “She was just some local girl with a guitar, but she played that one song, about her brother who died in the army, and the whole crowd was just in awe. People were wiping away tears.
You held me so tight while even you cried a tear or two. I remember it gave me goosebumps the way her song made me feel, and I told you I didn’t think I’d ever be able to write a song that good. You looked at me and you told me that I was going to change the world with my music.
That I was going to move people and make them feel my music the same way that girl did. You told me that the world needed my voice, that what I had to say mattered. You told me that my music mattered.” “What’s the point of this story?”
“She lost the baby.” The pain of saying it out loud hadn’t lessened any in the hours since I found out. The words still tore at my insides as I forced them out. “Katya lost the baby and now I’m so fucking lost, Abbi.” Her words turned to a gasp, “Oh, God.” “I wasn’t ready to be a dad.
It wasn’t what I wanted, but now that I’m not . . . I don’t know that anything has ever felt worse than this.” Several seconds of silence passed and then, “I’m so sorry, Abel. I wish I knew what to say right now, but I don’t.” “You don’t have to say anything.”
That was the beauty of it. “Just talking to you helps. It always did.” “Abel,” she said weakly. I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I’m not—this isn’t about us. It’s just that no matter how bad shit gets, how lost or turned upside down I feel, everything is right for a minute when I hear your voice.
It’s like, if you’re still there, then the whole world can’t be wrong. And it’s enough. It’s enough to have you as a friend, Abbi. It’s enough for you to be a voice on the other line.” “Always.” I blew out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “You don’t know how much I needed to hear that.”