Page 27 of Rock On

“For each other and the millions of people who look up to us, listen to our music, and consider us role models.”

“I never signed up to be a role model.”

“Maybe not, but that’s what you are. Kids look up to us, men want to be us, and women want to be with us… it can be a hell of a burden. But the alternative is walking away, and we already know we aren’t prepared to do that.”

“I was ready,” I said. “When Carter died, I was ready to walk away.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Because you fuckers talked me into staying, into keeping on.”

“Are you sorry?”

I shrugged.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that sometimes it’s a lot.”

“It’s always been a lot.” He paused. “But you had Harley back then.”

“And Carter.”

He nodded. “Yeah. And now that all of us are in relationships, you’re floundering.”

Leave it to Kellan to hit the nail on the fucking head.

He hit it hard too.

“If you’re not happy with the status quo, you’re the only one who can change it,” he continued when I didn’t respond. “Only you have the power to do things differently going forward. You can’t tell me there are no decent ladies out there. I found one. You can too. Or, if you’re not ready, just have fun and let it happen organically. But nothing good is going to happen if you keep trying to punish yourself for not being able to save him.”

He paused, looking at me, but I felt like a weird combination of a surly toddler and a professional boxer, alternately wanting to stomp my feet and punch Kellan in the mouth. I opted to keep my mouth shut instead, on the off chance I did either of those things.

“Fine. You don’t want to talk to me, you don’t have to, but you need to talk to someone. Therapist, priest, your dad… hell, go sit at the cemetery and yell at Carter.”

Ha.

Joke was on him since I’d tried that, and it hadn’t gone according to plan.

“I know you want to help,” I said finally. “But I have to figure this out on my own.”

“Well, you’ve got about nine weeks to do it,” he said quietly. “Don’t waste this unplanned time off. Go somewhere, find a therapist, do what you have to do, but I don’t think you’ll last on tour if you don’t fix whatever it is that’s eating at you. I heard about this wellness center called Harmony Place. It’s up in Santa Barbara, right on the water. High-end, expensive as fuck, and they’re known for working on a multitude of issues. Maybe you should check them out. It can’t hurt to look it up, see if it’s something you might want to do.”

He was right, the fucker.

“I’ll think about it,” was all I said.

But that was a lie because I already knew what I had to do.

Seeing the bruises on Harley had been the nudge I needed.

Hurting myself wasn’t even on my radar, but I’d never left those kinds of bruises before, and hurting her like that wasn’t acceptable.

Now that I had the name of a facility, first thing tomorrow, I was going to make some calls.

TEN

Harley

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