“I hope you get it together, Cole. Because you’re damn close to ruining everything.”

And then she was gone.

Like she had never been there.

What the f**k?

I picked up my phone, a brand new iPhone I had picked up from the airport. Jose had called half a dozen times over the last day and a half. I thought about listening to the messages I knew he had left, but I decided against it.

Vivian was right. I needed to get my head together. And listening to anything Jose had to say wouldn’t help.

I went back to my bedroom and looked at the mussed sheets, still able to smell Vivian’s lingering scent.

I grabbed the only clean pair of jeans I had left and a ripped T-shirt and headed for the shower. My stomach rumbled. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten.

So after I was clean, I found my wallet and keys on the table where Vivian must have left them and I headed into Bakersville. I had been purposefully avoiding the town since I had gotten back on Sunday. I hadn’t wanted to run into anyone and have to explain what I was doing back.

And I definitely hadn’t wanted to run into Jordan, Mitch, or Garrett.

But I was done hiding. It was time for me to, as Vivian had said, figure what I wanted.

I got some breakfast at the only decent diner in town and then got into my car and started driving. I knew where I was headed as I started to follow curved country roads I had known my entire life.

I pulled up in front of an old Victorian. It had at one time been yellow with white shutters. At some point in the last five years, it had been painted a pale blue and the wooden shutters had been replaced with ones made of maroon vinyl.

What was I doing here? Was I actually going to go and knock on the door? What would I say?

I got out of my car and stared up at the house that had been my home for the first eighteen years of my life.

I didn’t recognize the cars in the driveway. The place was a lot nicer than I remembered. The battered wooden lattice had been replaced and the shed out back looked to have been taken down and replaced with a swing set.

Wait. A swing set?

I walked up the now sturdy steps to the front door and knocked.

A few seconds later I was greeted with a petite woman with red hair that was definitely not my mother.

“Can I help you?” she asked, smiling.

“Uh, I was actually looking for Kenneth and Joan Brandt. They used to live here,” I said, peering behind her into the foyer I remembered but that was now completely different.

The woman chuckled. “Oh, we bought the house from them two years ago.”

I throat felt uncomfortably tight.

“Two years ago?” I clarified, my voice cracking.

The woman looked at me strangely, taking in my tattoos, lip ring, and messy hair.

“Yes,” she said shortly, obviously ready to close the door in my face.

My parents had moved out of our house. They had sold it and moved and never told me.

I had no idea where they were.

“Do you know where” my voice gave out and I had to work like hell to pull myself together.

“Do you know where they went?” I asked and I hated the softening on the small woman’s face. It’s like she knew the pain I was feeling.

She shook her head. “I don’t. I’m sorry.”

My hand shook as I pushed hair out of my eyes. I needed to get out of there.

“Thanks. I’m sorry to bother you,” I said quickly, hurrying off the porch and back to my car.

I threw the gear into drive and squealed my tires in my rush to get away from the house I had lived most of my life in.

My parents had moved.

They were gone.

And they had never told me.

I hastily wiped away the betraying wetness that appeared to be leaking out of my eyes.

Fuck this shit. This is why I never wanted to come back to Bakersville. There was nothing for me here.

My parents had made sure of that.

Vivian had made sure of that.

I had no friends. No band. No family.

All I had was the career Jose said I could have.

So I kept driving and driving. Hoping when I stopped I could make the decision I needed to.

“What are you doing here?”

I sat in my car, outside a rundown brick building in an old industrial park on the far side of town. My head was definitely somewhere else today.

Otherwise, why would I have driven to Generation Rejects’ rehearsal space?

Garrett looked down at me from my open window.

I shook my head, gripping my steering wheel. “I don’t really know,” was all I said.

Garrett stared at me for a long time. I was losing my shit. That’s the only excuse for what I was doing there.

After a while he tapped his hand on the roof of my car and nodded his head toward the building. “Well, while you’re here, come help me load up some stuff.”

And then he walked off.

I should go. I sure as shit didn’t want to be anywhere near Garrett f**king Bellows and his judgey condemnation.

So why did I find myself climbing out of my car and following him inside.

The place had been gutted. We had cleaned out most of our equipment when we went on the road. The only thing left was an extra drum kit, an ancient half stack and a few mic stands. Garrett had already stacked up some chairs and pushed the nasty couch off to the side.

I was relieved to see that he was alone.

“What are you doing?” I asked, watching as he started to wind up old cables and put them on top of the half stack.

“I’ve got a dude coming by to clear out everything and bring it back to the house. No sense paying rent for a space we never use.”