OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

one-hundred-fourteen.

She was certain that if she was to forgive him, the next time he went on tour, let alone anywhere where she wasn't present, would be harrowing for her. She wouldn't be able to sleep knowing that just maybe, he was capable of cheating on her again.

Whenever Reagan had happened to feel a flash of anger as she'd processed what Dave had done, it'd always been centered around his sheer choice in timing.

For nine straight years, he had toured with two different bands, exposing himself to countless women who would have been more than happy to sleep with him. He'd had every opportunity to cheat on her in the past, but he'd picked that year, the worst year of all, to do it whilst knowing that it couldn't have come at a more horrible time.

It was true that she'd been cold, perhaps cold enough to push him to do it, but not once had he taken into account what she'd been through before he'd made his choice. He'd cheated on her with the full knowledge that she was in pain, even if she hadn't made a show of it. She'd never assumed that a monologue was needed for Dave to know that inside, she'd been dying.

Sometimes she asked herself why he hadn't just walked out on her instead. She could have lived with that. If he'd come to the conclusion that she wasn't making him happy, he could have at least spared her the pain of being betrayed.

She couldn't figure out what the point of it all was anymore. She'd been wounded by Dave's busy life on the road before, a component of his dedication to being in a band, and it would only be worse now that he'd dismantled her trust to microscopic pieces.

Nothing would ever be the same again, not when she couldn't fathom the idea that if things were to get bad again in the future, he'd cheat on her as a source of reprieve. He'd effectively demonstrated that when the going got rough between them, there would always be another woman for him to fall into.

It had been horrible to watch him try to make amends. Whether it was covering her in blankets when she fell asleep on the couch, too uncomfortable to join him in bed, or holding her hand as means of affection when she neglected to touch him any more than that, Dave had silently fought for her.

He'd realized early on that words alone wouldn't make up for what he'd done. Without use of them, he'd quietly done everything he could to win Reagan back. Getting up early in the mornings to brew her coffee. Going above and beyond to keep the house clean, even she'd already finished the job of wiping every room down. Leaving notes scattered everywhere, scrawled onto torn sheets of notebook paper, proclaiming in them that he loved her.

She'd even heard him on the phone one day, talking to Lisa as he confessed to her what he'd done. Telling by the desperate angle that the conversation had taken, Lisa had made her brother keenly aware of how far below the belt he'd hit.

Reagan wanted it all to click. She wanted his efforts to piece her heart back together, to mend the direct split down the middle that he'd caused.

It just wouldn't.

To distract herself, she'd started drumming whenever he wasn't at home. She would sit behind her kit and pound out every and any rhythm that she could think of for hours until sweat prickled on the back of her neck and gathered around her eyes. It had been a long time since she'd poured that much energy into the drums and just as it had when she'd been a teenager, it was therapeutic. It was the perfect form of escapism, even if just for an evening.

While everything around them failed, the only thing Reagan was sure they'd still excelled at was being parents to Gracie. She hadn't picked up on anything amiss with her parents, remaining bubbly and content as the weeks had droned on. In Reagan's reluctant opinion, she and Dave were playing roles, assuming a new talent as actors as they tried to play it normal for their daughter. Whatever they'd so far done, it was working.