Page 41 of Fractured Frets

“I am.” My voice scraped my throat in a rough whisper. “Playing every day with the guys is wicked.” I had to remember that. Life was fucking good.

“Is there a but to that?”

Hmph. She read me too well as tension twisted in my temples. “Everything is different after the success of the album. There’s this new pressure and responsibility to make the tour bigger, put on more shows, turn our concerts into extravagant events. There are more sponsors and stakeholders to make happy.” My blood pressure skyrocketed just thinking about the months ahead. “Ashlem has already added additional shows into our schedule for the UK, Paris, and Munich, and would add more if they could.”

Maddy rubbed the center of my chest. “Hey? It’s okay. Just breathe.”

So I did. In and out. In and out.

But my lungs ached. “Mads, I love my band so fucking much. I don’t ever want to let them down. We’ve done well. We have awesome fans. We’ve completed two tours, traveled to and played at some incredible places. But it was never this crazy before.” Dizziness swam through my head. “Now...we’re everywhere, and there is so much happening around us, I’m worried I won’t keep up.”

“Do the guys know how you feel?”

“No.” I winced.

“You should tell them. They’ll understand. Possibly even feel the same way. You support each other through everything. Stand up for what you need and get them onboard if you need to make some changes.”

I wished it were that easy. “They were so excited when we signed with Ashlem...I was too...but then reality hits, and the wheel turns, and things take off, and you go fuck...how did this happen? What have we done? Now there’s no going back. We can’t change anything.”

“I’ve seen you play.” She trailed her fingertips over my tattooed arm and followed one of the dark bands around my forearms. “You’re incredible. I’m sure once the tour kicks off and you’ve done a few shows, you won’t worry about these things. If you do, just close your eyes and pretend that you’re here with me...or better yet, just jamming with the guys in Flint’s studio. Just having fun.”

I would definitely think of her...but music? Oh, yeah. My fingers flitted against Maddy’s hip, like they were strumming the strings on my guitar. Visions of performing on stage underneath flashing lights skipped behind my eyelids. “I get so lost in the music sometimes, I don’t see anything. I just feel the beat, the energy, the electric vibe coursing through my veins.”

“Isn’t that awesome?”

“Yeah...it is. I love performing live. It’s a total adrenaline rush.”

“I love acting, but I don’t get that kind of buzz.” She softened her tone and stared at my chest. “I just love being someone I’m not. Living someone’s life and stepping into a different world that isn’t my own. It’s incredible.”

I understood that now more than anything. Her mom’s health played a huge part in her wanting that escape.

I hooked my finger beneath her chin and tilted her head back. “We both act for a living, but I like who you are in reality.”

“Our reality never lasts long. Snippets of time with you aren’t enough.”

“No. One day we’ll have more time together, Mads. But my life isn’t my own for the foreseeable future. ”

“Neither is mine.” Sadness swallowed the light from her eyes. “So is that all that is bothering you about the tour?”

I slid my fingers over the fine line of her throat. Her pulse thrumming against my fingertips was the distraction I needed from the painful fractures in my heart. “No. I’m worried about my hip. It’s been playing up since Big Bear.”

“You had it checked, right?” She eased the sheet off my waist and traced the faded scars on the upper edge of my tattooed hipbone.

“Yeah. I had new scans and more injections. The doctors gave me stronger anti-inflammatory meds and pain-killers. But nothing’s really helped. I just want the aches to stop.” And the haunting memories to end. Surfing on dusk. The huge swell. Being wiped out. Black water swirling around me. The rope ripping my ankle. The seawater burning my lungs. Pain as I smashed into rocks. Then...nothing. I wouldn’t be there today if Phil hadn’t saved me. “I don’t know what to do if the meds and crap don’t work. I can’t play in agony every night.”

“You can if you take it easy.”

“Not my style.”

“Sometimes you have to be sensible.”

Yeah . . . that sucks. “I hate being on meds.”

I’d told her everything about my past. How losing Phil had shocked us guys into cleaning up our act. But she didn’t know how much I fought against the craving for a hit every day. I’d thought it would weaken with time, but it never did.

“I know you do.” She took my hand and held it curled against her chest. “Just be careful with them and don’t end up like Mom or Phil.”

“I don’t want to. Not ever.” I shook my head against the pillow. “But I’m not always strong. I’m not an angel.”

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