Page 107 of Fractured Rhythm

“I know that, you idiot. But what happens when you’re too drunk to remember and there’s no one sober to fill in the missing spots? I can’t have this conversation with you when you’re drunk. I thought we were past this. I thought you were past this. Don’t think I didn’t notice when you started drinking more on tour.”

“Fuck, Cas. We all drink on tour. We’re rock stars.”

“Right now, you’re an asshole.”

“I’m sorry, Cas.”

“I’m not sure if being sorry is enough.”

Her sigh was audible.

“I can’t do this now. Get your shit together and then maybe we can talk. I have to go,” she said, and then there was silence.

She’d hung up on me. I deserved nothing else.

And she was right. I needed to get it together. Not just for her—for us. But for me.

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