Page 126 of Fractured Frets

Yeah, he wasn’t taking this well.

Lewis placed his elbow on the back of the sofa and propped his head against his hand. “I’m like Flint—ready to work on the next album. But some downtime will be good.” Despite the tiredness in his tone, the smallest of smiles touched his lips. “Tia and I aim to buy a house after the tour. We’re already looking online. She’s still toying with the idea of studying sound engineering and hitting some festivals with Chloe and Duke’s band. Plus there’s the whole baby thing. We plan to have a kid next year.”

The kid thing freaked me out, but in a good way. Everyone had lives which no longer centered on music. We didn’t depend on each other as much as we used to.

We weren’t kids anymore.

I fidgeted with the cushion beside me, picking at a loose thread. “Being honest—we need a good break.” Me more than most. “We’ve all changed. You’re all in serious relationships and need some solid home time with your girlfriends. They need that after we’ve been away for so long. And I need time to get better...and get over Maddy.” I’d own my mistakes. Take responsibility for my actions. The truth hurt like a motherfucking bitch. Maddy deserved someone who wasn’t so messed up. I had to get well. Be better. Focus on me.

Right girl. Wrong timing. Move the fuck on.

“Slip.” Flint’s eyebrows knitted together as he softened his tone. “It’s obvious you love Maddy. I’m sorry you never sorted out your shit. I’m sorry she isn’t standing beside you while you get better. On the one hand, I understand why she ran. On the other hand, who the fuck does that to someone they’re supposed to love?”

I didn’t need the reminder why she’d left. She loved me...just not as much as I loved her. “It wasn’t meant to be. I’m better off alone.”

“Nope. Sorry. You can’t get rid of us.” Cole circled his finger through the air, taking in Flint and Lewis, then slapped his hand against his chest. “We’ll help you through this, even if we have to chain you to a bed, lock you in a room, and put you through cold turkey. Someone will be with you twenty-four/seven to make sure you’re not caving.”

I wouldn’t put it past them to do those things. “Thanks. I’ve never had a death wish, but it’s hard to accept my hip won’t ever be one hundred percent again. Not once have I taken a pill or line of coke and not cursed and hated myself for doing so. I’ve always told myself I’d stop after the tour. That’s why I’m not screaming and yelling and saying no. I need to get off this shit.” I hated the shakes. The sweats. The cravings. “I love life...I just got into this spiral. I promise I’ll deal with this. I will. Like you guys said, you can’t get rid of me...but yes, after the tour, I need to disappear for a while. A decent hiatus.”

“Shit,” Cole mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re not going to be like One fucking Direction, who said they’d take twelve months off and still haven’t gotten back together in years. No fucking way.”

I chuckled, but then turned serious. “I can’t give you a timeframe. I need to sort a lot of crap out.”

“I’m all for new beginnings and change.” Lewis dipped his chin and splayed his hand across his chest . “You’ve got to do what’s right for you. But know I’ll fucking miss you if these last few weeks together are it.”

My heart wobbled. I couldn’t say it wouldn’t be so. “Then we’d better fucking enjoy them.”

“Slip?” With glassy eyes, Flint seemed to struggle to speak. “We aren’t The Flintlocks without you. We don’t do this without you.”

“Then you’d better fucking pray I get better.”

Chapter 35

MADDY

I sat beside Mom’s hospital bed on a hard vinyl chair as she dozed after having another severe flare-up. Her IV blipped away. She wheezed, straining for each breath as the oxygen tube beneath her nose sat at a precarious angle. I fought back the tears.

Frustration and fatigue had embedded themselves into my bones. Would Mom learn this time to take better care of herself? Probably not. She didn’t seem to care that her pneumonitis had worsened. I’d flown back to LA last night and found her flaked out on the sofa with a raging fever after she’d been on a picnic with friends. Too much sun. Too much drinking.

Unable to get her temperature down and her breathing under control, I’d rushed her to the hospital.

Nothing motivated her to get better. If I had to be more involved in monitoring her condition, some serious changes would have to be made. I didn’t want to regret not spending time with her as her health deteriorated. With my show’s extension, that only meant one thing—Mom had to move to Canada.

Less travel would do my health wonders. I’d miss coming home to LA every two weeks. I’d miss catching up with Sutton, old friends, the band... and Slip.

It had been excruciatingly hard, but I’d ghosted him for the past six weeks, ever since Sutton’s party. Walking into his home, finding him high and playing like a crazed man on his guitar, had scared me out of my wits. His bloodshot eyes still haunted me every time I tried to sleep. It had broken my heart. I had enough stress in my life dealing with work and Mom—I didn’t need any more.

Was I a coward for walking away? No. It had taken all my strength to leave. But we’d broken each other enough. We didn’t need to do any more damage. Or cause more issues. I would’ve stayed to help him through his addiction, to be there for him like Sutton had said . . . but I’d been a part of the problem. The best way to help him get better was to stay away. I checked in on him via Sutton and the guys to make sure he seemed to be doing okay. He was surrounded by people who loved him. I loved him too, but my energy needed to be directed elsewhere...on my health, and seeing a therapist to get well, and on taking care of Mom.

Yes. She had to move. I had to convince her to relocate when she woke up.

Easy, right?

Nope. Definitely not!

As she rested, I skimmed through my social media on my cell phone, liking my friends’ Instagram posts and Snaps of events they’d been to, the shots my castmates had taken behind the scenes during filming, and the photos of them enjoying a night out at dinner. Then...images of The Flintlocks from five days ago reappeared in my feed. First, a stunning black-and-white photo of the guys hugging on stage in Auckland, the last night of their tour. Second, the band celebrating and cheering with their entourage and road crew backstage. Third, the guys asleep on their plane home. I homed in on Slip, and my heart constricted into a tiny ball. Tears welled in my eyes. I missed our texts, our calls, our laughs.

We hadn’t been strong enough to survive.

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