“Robbie’s grave.”
Trent glances at Kasen, his gaze filled with worry and those creases between his eyebrows furrowing.“Is he okay?”
I shake my head.“He blames himself.”
I didn’t think it was possible for Trent’s frown to get any deeper, but it does.“Shit, I was worried about this.”
I slap his back.“Put that worry in the backseat for now, brother.He’s here.He’s sober.We can worry tomorrow.”
He nods, but I can tell by the way he watches Kasen and chews on the inside of his cheek that he’s still worrying.
We eat our tacos, and Becka—bless her heart—guides the conversation with plenty of safe topics.We’ve all had our fair share of food when Kasen changes the subject.He shifts in his chair and drops his gaze to where his hands fidget with his napkin on the table.
“I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I’d really like to stay in the band.”
Silence descends on the table while we all stare at Kasen.
Trent clears his throat, then leans forward, his hands clasped on the table in front of him and his blue gaze that’s so similar to mine locked on Kasen’s.“We let you down.”
Kasen opens his mouth to speak, but Trent holds his hand up to stop him.
“We did.I don’t care what you say.Yes, you’re responsible for your choices and you chose drugs, but we made choices too.We chose to keep our distance and play defense when we should’ve been there for you, gotten you into treatment again sooner.We should’ve—”
“Stop,” Kasen interrupts.“You couldn’t have done anything different.Idid this.I put us here.I…” His voice cracks and his eyes fill with unshed tears.His voice is strained when he speaks.“I…I’m responsible for myself and my actions, and the impact those actions had on others.”
“Robbie’s death wasn’t your fault,” Trent says.
Kasen’s head drops, and only the drop of a tear staining his shirt gives away the emotion he’s trying to hide.
After a long moment of silence, he looks back at Trent.“It’s going to take a long time for me to believe that.”
Trent reaches across the table and places his hand on Kasen’s.“We’ll still be here for when you finally do.”
“So I’m back in the band?”
“You were never out,” Trent says.
Kasen looks to me for confirmation, and I give him a nod, then take a sip of my water in a weak attempt to wash down my own emotions this conversation has brought to the surface.
It might not be much, but having Kasen back feels like it starts to heal the cracks which have permeated our existence—as individuals and as a band—since Robbie died.
It gives me hope that maybe someday we will feel whole again.