Page 50 of Madness

I shake my head, trying to dislodge the doubts. It's just one bad call. We'll figure it out. We have to.

Don't we?

Taking a deep breath, I reach for my phone again. I pull up my calendar, the neat rows of shifts at Sunny's interspersed with upcoming nursing school commitments. Structure. That's what I need right now.

I start adding new items: "Daily check-in with Dakota" goes into every evening slot. Even if it's just a quick text, we need to maintain that connection. "Self-care hour" gets penciled in twice a week - maybe I'll take a long bath or read a book that isn't a textbook for once.

"Mommy-Roman special time" goes in on Saturday mornings. I need to make sure he doesn't feel the strain of this situation. And "Shannon video chat" stays firmly in its Sunday evening spot. I'm going to need my best friend more than ever now.

As I finish, I feel a small sense of control returning. I can't change Dakota's behavior or the distance between us, but I can manage how I respond to it.

"Mommy, look!" Roman calls, proudly holding up his completed puzzle. "I did it all by myself!"

I smile, genuine this time. "That's amazing, baby! You're so smart."

Scooping him up in a hug, I make a silent promise to both of us. Whatever happens with Dakota, this is what is most important. I can’t lose sight of that.

I may not have all the answers right now, but I've got love, determination, and a plan. It has to be enough.

For now, I push thoughts of Dakota aside and focus on Roman's chattering about his puzzle.

One day at a time, I remind myself. One day at a time.

28

HOPELESS

DAKOTA

The harsh fluorescent lights of the gas station bathroom flicker as I splash cold water on my face. My reflection in the smudged mirror is a stranger – bloodshot eyes, unkempt beard, dark circles that no amount of stage makeup can hide. I've been on the road for a month, but I look like I've aged years.

"Hurry up, man!" Emmett's voice calls from outside. "Bus leaves in five!"

I grip the edges of the sink, trying to steady myself. The lingering effects of last night's drinks make the world tilt slightly. Or maybe that's just the guilt.

"Yeah, coming," I call back, my voice rough.

As I step out into the bright afternoon sun, squinting against the glare, I'm hit with a wave of déjà vu. Wasn't it just yesterday we were excited about gas station stops? Piling out of the tour bus, laughing and joking as we stocked up on snacks and stretched our legs?

Now, it's just another blur in a series of indistinguishable days and nights.

Brad eyes me as I climb back onto the bus. "You good?" he asks, concern evident in his voice.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I can feel the weight of the new flask in my jacket pocket, a constant reminder of how far I've fallen.

As the bus rumbles to life, I pull out my phone. Three missed calls from Lauren. Five unread messages. The sight of her name on the screen sends a jolt of shame through me.

I should call her back. I want to. But what would I say? How can I tell her that the man she loves, the one who promised to stay sober, is slowly drowning himself in alcohol and regret?

Instead, I put on my headphones and close my eyes, letting the motion of the bus lull me into a fitful sleep. In a few hours, we'll be at the next venue. Another show, another chance to lose myself in the music and the adoration of the crowd.

And after that? Well, there's always another drink waiting.

My fingers fumble over the strings as we launch into ‘Midnight Mirage.’ The crowd doesn't seem to notice, but I catch Stefan's sharp glance. It's our new single, the one we're supposed to nail every night. Instead, I'm barely keeping up.

A month into the tour, and I'm already falling apart.

The rest of the set passes in a blur of bright lights and familiar chords. I'm running on autopilot, muscle memory carrying me through songs I could play in my sleep. Should be able to play in my sleep. The tremor in my hands is getting harder to ignore.

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