Page 58 of Madness

For now, I close my eyes and try to quiet my mind, the weight of the future heavy on my chest.

33

ADRENALINE

DAKOTA

The pounding on my hotel room door slices through my skull like a jackhammer. I groan, rolling over in sheets damp with night sweats. The digital clock on the nightstand blinks an accusing 1:47 PM. Shit.

"Dakota! Open up, man. We're worried about you."

Brad's voice, muffled through the door, is tinged with concern. I drag myself out of bed, the room spinning slightly as I stand. The taste in my mouth is foul, a reminder of last night's poor decisions.

I crack open the door, wincing at the harsh hallway light. Brad's worried face swims into focus.

"Jesus, Dakota. You look like hell."

"Feel like it, too," I mutter, stepping aside to let him in. The room reeks of stale booze and desperation.

Brad's eyes scan the chaos - empty mini bottles scattered across the floor, my bass propped haphazardly in a corner, papers strewn across the desk. His gaze lands on the crumpled photo of Chloe I'd pulled from my wallet last night in a moment of drunken nostalgia.

"Want to tell me what's going on?" he asks softly. "You missed soundcheck, and you're not answering your phone. Stefan and Emmett are freaking out, and Ian’s about to have a fucking heart attack."

I collapse onto the bed, rubbing my face. The mention of the band sends a fresh wave of guilt through me. "It's... it's complicated, Brad. I fucked up. I've been drinking again."

“No shit, Sherlock,” Brad nods, unsurprised. He sits down in the desk chair, leaning forward. "Talk to me, man. What's really going on?"

For a moment, I consider brushing him off. But the weight of everything suddenly feels too heavy to bear alone. "It's Chloe," I start, my voice cracking. "I found out... I think she was cheating on me with Lauren's ex, Miles. We think they might’ve died together, Brad. They died the same fucking night."

As I say the words, a memory flashes unbidden - Chloe, laughing in our kitchen, flour on her cheek as she tried to bake cookies. She'd looked so happy, so alive. Had she been thinking of him even then?

Brad's sharp intake of breath brings me back to the present. "Holy shit. Are you sure?"

I shake my head, feeling the ache behind my eyes intensify. "Not completely. But there's too many coincidences. I need to know for sure. I need to see the police report."

"The police report?" Brad echoes, brow furrowed.

"Yeah. Lauren tried to get it, but they wouldn't give it to her. But I'm Chloe's husband - was her husband. They'll have to give it to me, right?"

Brad nods slowly. "Probably, yeah. But Dakota, are you sure you want to go down this road? Digging into the past like this... it might do more harm than good."

Another memory surfaces - Lauren's smile the first time I met her at the diner, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners. The warmth I'd felt was the first spark of hope after years of numbing grief. What would this do to us?

"I have to fucking know, Brad," I insist, the words tasting bitter in my mouth. "I can't... I can't move forward with Lauren, with anything, until I know the truth."

Brad's quiet for a moment, then stands up. "Alright. If that's what you need to do, I’ll help you if I can. But first, you need to shower and eat something. And then we need to talk about the drinking."

I wince, but nod. He's right, of course.

"I'll do some research, see what we need to do to get that report," Brad continues. "You get yourself together. And Dakota? We're going to figure this out. All of it. You're not alone in this, okay?"

For the first time in I don’t know how long, I feel a glimmer of hope. "Thanks, man. I mean it."

As Brad leaves to make some calls, I force myself into the shower. The hot water sluices over me, washing away the physical evidence of my bender, if not the emotional toll. By the time I'm dressed in clean clothes, I feel almost human again.

The room seems smaller now, closing in on me. Through the thin walls, I can hear the muffled sounds of a neighboring TV, the distant hum of an ice machine - the mundane soundtrack of tour life that usually fades into the background. Today, each sound grates on my nerves.

Brad returns, a serious look on his face. "Okay, I've got some information. Good news is, you can get the report. Bad news is, we're halfway across the country. You'll need to request it by mail and have someone pick it up for you in person back in LA."

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