It could never be enough: Excerpt from "The Vultures"

Hello, this is an excerpt from my second book, "The Vultures". I've been working on it for about five years. Its a coming-of-age story about a band that goes on tour after graduating high school, centering on two protagonists who struggle with their love for one another despite their differing values.

Its about growing up when you try your hardest not to:

ADAM

        What will become of us?
        She leaves these messages on my voicemail: she says, Hey, it’s Me. Like I don’t know it’s Envy, calling me from Scotty’s phone because she lost her Blackberry when she was drunk. I can’t stop her from over here. I can’t slow her down when she slurs an apology onto a damp Starbucks napkin, I can’t taste her on the envelope she sent my letter in.
        We didn’t stop speaking, but we lost touch. I retrace my steps; I walk backwards through my simple life before Envy like a ghost. Into the hotel lobby where I first held her, trusting her. Outside Hawk’s House where I helped her carry her drum equipment and she invited me into her life.

        What will become of her? Will she become one of those girls she hates, or is she already? One hundred miles, a seven-dollar train ride, but it’s too much for her. We tried, we really tried to spend the rest of our lives together, and we only made it six months.
        What Envy and I shared could not exist outside of the van. It could thrive on the open road, but it could not stand still. Nothing is ever lost, she used to say, it is only somewhere else. We were somewhere else, together, somewhere with seductive palm trees, somewhere with seagulls singing above a marina, somewhere where we didn’t make promises, only cultivated hope. We didn’t tie each other down, we set each other free like a flurry of kites soaring into the sky.

        What will become of me? If I can’t run away with her, then where will I run to? One day I’ll quit the motel for good, and find another job that I don’t hate yet. One day I’ll meet another girl, and maybe she will tell me all her secrets before someone else does. She won’t talk about quitting smoking, she will just quit. But I know whoever she is, she won’t be good enough for a very long time.
        And until then I’ll sit with my back turned to the parking lot outside the snow-frosted window of the truck stop. I’ll listen to Carter’s miserable stories and Miranda’s self-loathing complaints until my ears bleed. I’ll put my guitar up for sale on craigslist but I’ll keep asking too much for it so that if someone is ever going to take it from me, it better be worth letting go.
        One day she will stop sending me letters. Or, one day I will send one of hers back, unopened. Or maybe I will actually respond to one of them. I have so much to say, but it never comes out right, so I bite my tongue and hope that by the time I’m ready to talk, she won’t want to listen anymore.