Page 69 of Hold On

I sigh, a flood of memories returning to me as I open the box and take the mask in. My fingers stray to it, petting the leather, the fastenings, the large ocular lenses. I pick it up to admire it in the light as something hits my leg and falls to my feet. I wiggle my toes as it gently settles on top them. I move the mask to see what it is, instantly wishing I hadn’t.

Because sitting on my fucking foot is a small packet of blow someone must’ve shoved away while I had been touring. If I had known about it, I would’ve fucking used it. My guess is Keith, or some goddamn roadie was hiding it from me for themselves and forgot about it.Assholes. It’s taunting the fuck out of me in my grief-stricken state.

My fingers grip the edges of the mask in my hands, shaking furiously. It’s been over a month since I’ve done anything hard, and honestly, I don’t really think it’ll solve anything, yet it’s still calling to me. I’m starting to pant the longer I stare at the baggy. I can’t even text Alina. I left my phone charging next to hers on the nightstand upstairs.

My armpits and upper lip break out into a cold sweat as I panic internally, battling with the decision to momentarily forget about watching my mom die or to continue to help the one person who has always fucking been there for me.

I swallow loud enough for the whole garage to hear and pray like hell that Lina wakes up and finds me before it’s too late.

Alina:

Bash isn’t in bed with me when I wake up.

I slept terribly, dreams of his dying mother haunting me behind my closed eyes. I look around his room, but it’s empty and so is the floor below it. I hope he’s not on the other side of the joint house. It still feels like a crime scene, even though everyone is gone now. Including the officers who laughed in our faces.

I cross my arms over my chest, exiting the house. The night is chilly as I walk outside and notice the lights on in the garage to my right. I walk towards the lifted door and see Bash standing stalk-still, his back to the entrance. I study him for a second, not sure what I’m walking in on, knowing he’s under the strain of immense grief. Grief that’s complicated and messy. But he doesn’t move. Except for the slight tremble of his body. I furrow my brow in concern.

“Bash?” I ask softly as he whimpers from inside the garage. “Baby, what’s wrong?” I start to walk towards him.

“Get it away from me,” he rasps as I close the space between us. I notice the plague doctor mask gripped tightly in his hands as he stares at his feet. When my eyes find his toes, I suck in a breath. Before I can even think, I’m grabbing the baggy and running to the sink in the corner of the room, upending the contents of it down the drain. They disappear with the runoff. I turn back to Bash who hasn’t moved. I can see the fight inhis eyes, the turmoil he’s currently facing. How he’s most likely thinking of plan B and how he can obtain more drugs, even though I just got rid of them for him. “I found the mask. And the drugs were stashed inside with it. I’ve been standing here for at least an hour. I don’t know if there’s more and I’m terrified to look,” he admits in a tight voice. I walk forward, grab the mask and inspect it. I hand it back to him when it’s clean before checking the rest of the box, moving his mic over to make sure nothing is hiding in an unknown crevice.

“It’s ok, Bash. There’s nothing left in here,” I say quietly as he visibly deflates, and tears form in his eyes.

“I don’t know if I’m ecstatic or pissed at that answer,” he says honestly. I nod my head, understanding his current predicament.

“Why don’t we leave the garage?” I ask, gently touching his hand and making him jump slightly. “I got you,” I whisper.

His eyes are lost for a few minutes as he tries to gather himself. He finally looks at me, the emotions he’s feeling storming behind his wet gaze.

“Please get me the fuck out of here,” he begs. “I feel like I’m gonna lose it, Lina Girl.”

I grab the mask from his hands and place it in the box, closing and latching the lid before grabbing his hand. He doesn’t move when I try to pull him at first. I wait a few seconds before trying again. His feet begin to step with mine and soon, I’m walking him and the plague doctor mask out of the garage, both held safely in my fingers.

Sebastian:

My toes feel like ice as she leads me through my mother’s empty garden. A garden that’ll never be full again by her hands.It breaks me in a way I never saw coming. But I grip Alina’s fingers for strength as she squeezes me back.

I fucking love this woman.

She takes us to our spot,ourshed. She quietly opens the door and directs me inside, undressing me completely down to my underwear before she kisses me gently and pushes me into the bed. She crawls in with me and before I know it, everything I’ve been trying to hold onto tears itself from my chest and throat and body in a chaotic, vicious way.

Alina never falters. She just simply holds me as my entire world falls apart. I bury myself into her chest and squeeze her tight, vowing to never let her go again.

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Now

Alina:

We wake up late.

There’s a tense feeling in the air and I can tell Bash is super out of it. His eyes are swollen from crying the night before and every few seconds, I can tell he’s zoning out when they gloss over, looking at nothing in particular. Luke may not have known of the complications between Bash and his mom, but his damage hit its mark.

Sebastian is a second away from imploding.

I went back to the garage after he fell asleep and searched for more drugs. I found them too. I washed it all down the drain or flushed it in the toilet. Whenever this is over, I don’t need him being tempted to get high on the hard shit to cope. So, I did away with the bait.

I text Cade to check in and he informs me Luke stationed him at the entrance of Bash’s driveway to make sure he’s alerted to whether I leave or not. I wonder how he’s planning on getting Luke alone later, but decide I have bigger problems to deal with.

I walk Bash back up to the house to shower. His eyes linger on his mom’s side of the home. I pull him up the stairs to his loft as quickly as I can to get him into his own space. By the time we’re in his room, he’s sobbing again. And I’m starting to really think that maybe this isn’t going to happen. That the hopeI had clung to of ridding myself of Luke was stupid and futile and Bash’s words of encouragement were sweet but hollow.

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