Page 112 of Fractured Frets

“I hate seeing you like this. I’m all for everyone taking their time to process and deal with their shit. But yours is running out. I’m not going to stand by and wait until it’s too late to intervene like we did with Phil. Whatever you’re on, stop. Get help. Talk to us...or someone.” He jabbed his finger toward the exit. “I will cancel the rest of this fucking tour and haul your ass to rehab if it means saving your life.”

The back of my eyes stung. I am okay. I don’t need help. I didn’t want anyone to worry. “I’m alright.” Nausea flooded my gut. Liar. “I just need to get through the next two months, and everything will be fine.”

“Everyone is worried.” His anguish slammed into me. “I’m terrified. I can’t lose you. Please, be honest with me. Are you gonna make it?”

I clenched my fists and sucked in a deep breath. Am I?

“Yep. With fucking bells on.”

Chapter 31

MADDY

Running late for Sutton’s birthday, I rushed into her house and scanned the living room full of guests and waiters. Divine smells came from the kitchen and an extravagant amount of hot pink and yellow party directions were draped around the room. But I couldn’t see Slip.

Shit. Where is he? He should’ve been there by now.

Since Italy four weeks ago, our texts and calls had been short. Work had been so busy we hadn’t had time for any decent conversation. I was exhausted. He was tired. Marriage shouldn’t have caused this much stress, or more problems than we’d had before tying the knot. But we were holding on...just.

Sutton lit up the room with her infectious laugh and sweet smile as she talked to the girls—Peyton and Mia—from her show. Swinging my gift bag from my fingertips, I skirted around the crowd and joined them by the bar.

“Happy birthday, gorgeous.” I hugged Sutton hello, then the girls before the two of them scurried off to find food. I stepped back, clutching onto Sutton’s hand, and took in her stunning fuchsia party dress. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you.” She smoothed her hands over her skirt, then brushed her fingertips over her earlobes. Huge sparkling solitaire diamonds glittered in the bright light. “Look what Flint got me. Not the diamonds I was hoping for, but they’re beautiful.” She turned her head this way and that, showing off both ears.

“Oh my God, they’re stunning.” I swooped forward to admire the bling. “If they’re any indication of what’s to come, you won’t be disappointed.”

“I know.” But she was. She wanted that ring on her finger.

Maybe she could have my rings. They were too big for me now. Both bands slipped and slid around my fingers all the time, never staying straight. No...they’re mine.

I thumbed my rings, realigning the diamonds on my hand. I’d lost another two pounds. I was often so busy I’d forget to have lunch or dinner, or I didn’t have time to grab something on the way home. Just the thought of eating made me nauseous. None of my clothes fitted anymore. Too big. Too loose. Too frumpy. Work was in overdrive. Travel was constant. Mom’s surgery had eased the pain and pressure in her lungs but her flare-ups had become more frequent. Stressing about Slip hadn’t eased my blood pressure either.

But I was okay. Not really, but I had to be. I flicked my worries aside and pasted on a reassuring smile. “Sutt, it will happen. Just be patient.” I should take my own advice. Every day, I wished the tour would hurry up and end. I swung my gift bag at Sutton, teasing her with the Chanel logo. I had every confidence she’d love the necklace. She loved gold jewelry as much as I did. “This is for you. But please, open it later.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Ooooh. Thank you. I will.”

I placed the present on the bar next to some other gifts, then grabbed two champagnes from a waiter passing by. I handed one to Sutton. We chinked our glasses together and took a sip.

As Sutton lowered her glass, she scanned my pale blue dress. I hated the flicker of concern clouding her dark blue eyes, but she didn’t say anything about my further weight loss. Good. That was the least of my worries. She smiled and squeezed my hand. “I miss you.”

“Yeah. Me too. It won’t be long until you’re home from traveling.”

But new anxiety had embedded in my gut as the end of the tour approached. Slip’s fatigue, his sliding health, and the latest headlines about him messing up songs during another show had set off amber warning lights inside my head. So had more gossip swirling around the new photos of him sitting next to Harper during a dinner with the band. But Ava, Tia, and Sutton had been there too. It was nothing. It was just dinner. With everyone. Still, jealousy and fear ate my insides. I’d beaten myself up, over and over again, and told myself to trust him. But some days wore me down. Speculation poisoned my mind. The only thing that kept me sane was the fact he’d be home in five weeks.

“How are you handling touring with the guys?” I asked, subtly hinting for Sutton to tell me about Slip.

“A-mazingly.” She waved her champagne through the air. “It’s so much fun. I don’t know how the guys do what they do. I’m exhausted, and I’m only on the sideline. They have such a good time. And yes...Slip is...” She winced, drew her lips into a barely there smile, and softened her voice. “He’s hanging in there. Counting down every second till he comes home to you.”

What was with that? Was something wrong? I glanced around the crowded living room and the outside entertainment area by the pool. “Is he here somewhere?”

“No. Not yet.” She shook her head and pursed her lips.

“Oh. Okay.” We’d texted. He shouldn’t have been far off.

But my skin prickled. Something wasn’t right.

“Hey?” Flint walked up to us and kissed me hello on the cheek. But as he stepped back, a shiver ran down my spine. “Mads, you got a sec? Can we talk? Outside?”

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