Page 73 of Electric Touch

Dylan had plenty to say about it. We’d almost come to blows at one point. He’d called me desperate and weak, worrying about someone who walked all over me. And he’d had plenty to say about Adrestia. How I hadn’t seen her or arranged another guitar lesson. She didn’t contact me to set it up either. Could I blame her for that? I left no doubt in her mind where I stood the other night. And it’s been driving me insane.

When we thought things were getting back on track, Riley gets blitzed and makes an idiot of herself. Throwing everything back into turmoil. Jack is pissed with her and he is one of her few allies. I’m not sure where Alessa stands anymore. She took care of her, regardless of acting as if it was a hardship. Alessa understands more than most how this is for me.

I’ve been so lost in my head, Declan dragged me out of New York. It’s only for the weekend, but an exec at the label has a house in Montauk. So he’s forced me here. No phone, no internet, just three days to get my shit straight. Whether I want to admit it or not, I’m a fucking mess. I’ve spent the last few months convincing myself I’m fine, but I’m not.

When I saw the place we were staying, my jaw almost hit the floor. The house sits at the end of a cul-de-sac, nestled amongst trees. There is a private path down to the beach at the back, with views over Gardiners Island. It has five bedrooms and seven bathrooms, over five thousand square feet, on three levels. And there is a detached garage for six cars. There is an open and covered porch, a jacuzzi, outdoor shower and swimming pool. The pool house is the size of our family home in North Carolina. It blew my mind when we drove up on Friday night. Most of the walls on the ground-floor are made up of windows.

Everything inside is pale ash or painted white wood, including the walls, ceiling and floors. Despite its size, there are a lot of narrow corridors and hallways, and small nooks or rooms. An attempt to make it seem less huge maybe, more intimate. Either way, I was going to enjoy being here.

“Here,” Declan comes out on to the back deck carrying two bottles of beer. He doesn’t have his cane, but he isn’t walking far. He drops into the lounger beside me and stares over the pool, out to the water. “I could get used to this,” he shifts to get comfortable.

It’s warm today. Fall is coming, but it’s hot enough to sit out in shorts. Declan has a t-shirt on to hide the worst of his scars. The one on his thigh is visible when he sits and his shorts ride up, but I don’t stare at it.

“I bet it sits empty for about seven months of the year.”

“How much do you think it costs?” he asks, pulling his sunglasses over his eyes.

“I’m too scared to guess. Fifteen mil?”

“And then some,” he remarks, sipping his beer.

We ate out at a small seafood place after we got here last night. There was no talk about Riley or any band stuff. Or anything to do with Dec’s issues. We just had a pleasant meal, making small talk, then went our separate ways back at the house. Declan took a downstairs bedroom. I didn’t want to take the master. It’s like a fucking ballroom.

Instead, I chose one of the smaller guestrooms. There are wrap around windows and two balconies on a narrow walkway, which runs all around the second floor, overlooking the water. I’d slept with the doors open last night, something I can’t do in New York, if I want to sleep.

I’d had breakfast before Declan appeared from his room this morning. He is sleep rumpled and more casual than I’ve seen in ages. Maybe he needs this too. This seems too drastic for everything to be peachy in Declan’s world.

“Has anyone taken Riley off for a decompress?” I ask.

Declan taps his beer bottle but doesn’t face me. “They’re talking about therapy, to be honest.”

“Therapy? That’s a little drastic. She got drunk and made a fool of herself.”

“Bliss made an investment in you guys. They’ve seen it all, Nash. Look what’s going on with Patrick from Dirty Crew. He’s been gone for six months. They’ve had nothing from the band that whole time.”

“They’re still making money off of them. It’s not like they’re losing income.”

“No, but it’s a business. Regardless of how much they bring in daily, or that they have places like this just sat empty. They know how quickly things can turn bad. Riley is making them antsy.”

“It’s not that bad,” I repeat. “She’s just having a crisis of conscience.”

Declan’s head twists and he regards me.

“Did you know that more often than not, the person who cheats tries to get back with their ex? And most of them end up separating from the people they cheated with?”

“Case study right here,” he huffs out a laugh.

“I’m not trying to dig at you.”

He holds up a hand. “No, I get it. I’m sure there are a lot of people who take back the cheater too. There is also a certain level of respect involved, you know. I was a shit to Waverley. She’d been gone a few weeks when I fucked up. I don’t blame her for telling me to get lost. After I apologised, I knew she would not take me back. Or forgive me,” he shrugs. “Maybe she did, but I’ll never know. She’s happy now.” He looks at his hands.

I swipe at a trickle of sweat on my throat. He’d been drunk when he went off with that groupie at one of our gigs. It’s no excuse. Their relationship wasn’t meant to be if he could cheat so easily. I could say the same for mine and Riley’s. It is just hard to let go.

“I know someone who could quote how often that shit works out. Getting back together, I mean.”

“The professor?” he queries.

Declan didn’t meet Adrestia. He’d seen the video and someone filled him in on how I was spending time with her. Probably my big-mouthed brother. “Yeah.”

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