Page 22 of The Sweetest Note

“Why do you look like you need to have your bat in your hands, love?” Roark asks, smirking.

“I was just thinking about Layla going on tour with Mav and Atlas,” I murmur.

Derek snorts, looking over his shoulder. “You saw the tension there too, right? I hope they aren’t idiots while they figure out they want her and she’s on the same page. I think they’d be really good for her. They’re protective, but I feel like they’ll give her the space to live too.”

I grin, relaxing a little as I think of my best friends. “Mav and Atlas are fucking awesome. They’re this great safe space, and I got some of my first tattoos with them. I also got drunk for the first time with Atlas, too. We go way back.”

Roark nods absently. “Aye, but Mav and Atlas will be the first to shut shit down when things are going sideways. They called me out when my partying got extreme,” he says.

My eyes widen because he’s not usually one to talk openly about his addiction. Roark jokes now that the only highs he needs are Lennon, myself, and performing. But two of those three are gone now.Fuck, what if I’m not enough?

I mull this over as we get out of the car. Derek climbs onto the roadies’ bus to grab his things, and I send the car away. I need to talk to Derek before he goes home, and honestly I just need to breathe away from everyone.

“Ror, you would tell me if you didn’t feel right, wouldn’t you?” I ask. I know that I’m beating around the bush, but fuck. How do I ask one of the loves of my life if he feels like using to forget his pain?

“Huh?” Roark turns towards me, shifting his shoulders as if the muscles are too tight. “I’m not gonna be right until we have our girl back, Turner. There, let me see if your hand is still bleeding. Did you really have to squeeze the glass to death?” he admonishes.

I smile weakly, shaking my head. I know the cut stopped bleeding a while ago and so does he. I hate that Roark is changing the subject.

“I should wash my hands and put some disinfectant on it before we head back,” I sigh. The bus doors swing open and Derek clomps down the stairs. “I lost a fight with that glass, and while it’s not bleeding anymore, my hand is skeeving Ror out,” I tell Derek. “I’m gonna go by the bus to sort myself out.”

Derek nods, locking the door and following us. “What did the glass ever do to you anyway?” he asks and I snort in laughter.

“Really?” I cackle and a small chuckle escapes from Roark.

Derek shrugs with a smirk, happy to lighten the oppressive cloud that’s been following us since we left the hotel. Lennon is our light, and knowing she’s been kidnapped by her mother and Derek’s father makes me want to beat or fuck something. I need to pull this anger back in so I can actually be useful.

“Sending Layla to continue performing is the right move,” Derek says unexpectedly as we climb onto the bus. It feels like he’s been thinking about this for a bit and is continuing a conversation that was in his head out loud.

“Yeah? I feel like it’s necessary too, but I never can tell how the media will react to things,” I sigh.

“They’ve painted Lenny in a really shitty way over the years,” Roark grumbles. “We don’t party as much as we're portrayed to, and Lenny never says boo at what they say about us.”

“Eh. There’s a certain image we keep just by being rockstars,” I remind him, getting our first aid box from our medicine cabinet on the bus.

“Oh shit,” Derek says, stopping in his tracks.

“Huh, what are you on about?” Roark asks, raising a brow. I can tell he’s amused by his antics though. Derek is this ball of energy and ideas that need an outlet.

“Your image. The media is still going to follow you all to find information while Lennon is at Hidden Hills, right?” Derek muses. “There’s nothing better for the paparazzi than watching rockstars implode.”

I glance over my shoulder as I walk into the bathroom to wash my hands. “Yeah, what of it, Derek?”

I can tell he has the beginnings of a plan, but I’m unsure of what it is. Derek waits for me to turn off the water and I examine my hand ruefully. The cut could have been worse, but I’ll need to use liquid stitches on it. Thankfully it clotted well, but a bandaid isn’t going to work for this.

Roark is gonna kick my ass. Carefully drying my hand as I walk out of the bathroom, Roark watches me closely.

“Oye, how bad is it?” he barks.

“Eh, it could be worse. I’m glad we stock liquid stitches on the bus, though.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Get your scrawny ass over here so I can fix it. My palm is twitching right now, and I’m not in the mood for you to get mouthy, brat.”

I chuckle as my cheeks heat. If this was any other time, I would be bent over Roark’s knee being spanked and then fucked hard. “Yes, sir. My ass is juicy and perfect, and I’m offended that you’d call it scrawny,” I snark.

Derek muffles a laugh behind his hand and I shrug. Some things need to be normal when so much isn’t. Roark rolls his eyes and pulls me down onto the couch. “It’s your right fucking hand,” he sighs. “It’s a good thing you’re not touring right now, cause I’m worried this would affect your ability to play.”

Roark grabs antiseptic wipes and glares at the cut as he cleans it. Hissing, I knock my foot against his. “You’re so not a gentle nurse,” I complain.

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