Page 1 of When We Fell Again
Prologue
ONE YEAR AGO
I couldn’t.
I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t fucking do it.
I needed something to get me through the next forty-five minutes without any pain, without any memories, without any feelings.
My fingers tapped against my kneecap, my leg jiggling with nerves.
Too easy.
Too easy to send a message and have someone here within minutes.
But I had to do it. I had to do it to get the fuck out on that stage for the most important forty-five minutes of my life before they were gone forever.
Make or break.
Reaching for my phone, I sent out the SOS.
Ten minutes later, the door opened a crack.Oh, the irony…
“All right, Jordan?” Dexter appeared in the room, shifting from foot to foot. If you didn’t know he was already wired, that would have been the giveaway. “Are you alone?”
“Uh-huh.” I hauled my arse up out of the chair and stepped towards him.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a baggie. “You sure about this? It’s pretty strong shit, mate. Don’t want you joining the 27 Club, do we?”
My lip twitched. The stronger the better, as far as I was concerned. “Let’s do it.”
Scrunching the bag into his palm, Dexter tilted his head. “Can you pay me now?”
“I’m about to go on stage. Do I look like I’ve got a bunch of cash on me?” I threw up my hands. “You know I’m good for it.”
His face softened. “I guess you don’t get a support slot like this one without being paid a shit ton of money. Free pass until after the show?”
“Absolutely.” I beckoned him towards me. “Now let me see the goods.”
Dexter grinned, tossing me the drugs. “All yours, rockstar. I’ll see you later to collect my debt.”
And with a wave, he was gone.
I didn’t see him later, and it wasn’t me who joined the 27 Club that night.
CHAPTER1
Jordan
“I’m sorry,Jordan. It’s not great news.”
I clenched my jaw, willing the doc to give me some mind-bending painkillers and let me go on my way. Sitting on a hospital bed, topless and freezing my nuts off while the judgy doctor checked out my inks wasn’t the way I wanted to spend my Wednesday afternoon. If I hadn’t been in so much pain, I might have flirted a bit harder with her, because she was pretty easy on the eye.
“Right,” I acknowledged, trying to keep my tone measured. “Go on.”
The consultant looked at her notes, presumably consulting the results of the x-ray I’d had. “You have a dislocated shoulder.”
