Page 102 of Hard Rock Deceit
"You don't have anything to be embarrassed about," I told him, sensing the problem. "The guys care about you. They just want you to getbetter."
"I lied to them. I betrayed their trust. I forced them to make a horrible choice by kicking me out of the band for myowngood."
"They feel awful about how it all went down. They want toapologize."
"I'm the one who needs to apologize. I should have told them about—" he cut himself off,cringing.
"Your shoulder?" I guessed. "TheRSI?"
"My shoulder is too fucked up to play without using drugs to numb the pain. But I don't want to be that person anymore. But I can't give up drumming." He turned his head to the side, hair falling to cover his face. "I don't know what to do. I don't have manyoptionsleft."
"I know you ruled it out but…" I trailed off, not wanting toupsethim.
"The surgery," he whispered. He went silent for long moments, taking in shuddering breaths. "I hate the idea. I hate the risk. But it might be my only chance to have a normal lifeagain."
"Why don't you talk to the guys?" I suggested. "See what they say. You can decide as a team. You don't have to do this byyourself."
He gathered my hands in his and held them to hischest.
"Will you stay while I talk to them?" heasked.
"I'll be here as long as you wantmeto."
He bumped his nose against mine in that familiar, sweetgesture.
"What if I want forever? Will you promisemethat?"
My heart swelled in mychest.
"Yes," I said simply. "I'll stay with youforever."
ChapterThirty
The room was silent.Almost as silent as it had been in the hospital that day when I'd first confronted August in front oftheguys.
They hadn't been able to believe itbackthen.
They couldn't believeitnow.
"Five percent?" Cameron asked,hushed.
Augustnodded.
"Yes. I'll most likely come out of the surgery with my shoulder improved. But there's a five percent chance it'll get worse. Bad enough I'll no longer be able to playdrums."
"Shit," Cameroncursed.
Noah's face, normally unreadable, was so alarmed even I was able to see through his usual impassivefacade.
The twins shared identical looks of dismay, green eyes wide andpained.
"So what are you going to do?" Cameronasked.
"I haven't decided." August tried to speak calmly, but I could hear the tremor in his voice. "I wanted to talk it over withyouguys."
When August finally felt well enough, he'd invited the band over to his place. Before they could make their well wishes and apologies, he'd gotten straight to the point, brief butconcise.
August had Chronic RSI. His shoulder wouldn't get better on its own. His options werelimited.
