Page 45 of Sustain

“Frankie ditching isn’t your shortcoming. There’s no way that’s your fault. Like you said, you haven’t even had a chance to find your footing as manager before everything spiraled out of control.”

I trace the redness now stretching across his knuckles, the obvious swelling brought on by the sacrifice he made in the name of some kind of duty to the band. He doesn’t owe anyone anything. Not a damn thing. Least of all pain.

“Give yourself permission to be human in the role. Trust that your team’s got your back too. I’ve been at this for years and I’m still learning. Plus, you’ve got a great group of people to lean on. And as for doubts?” I school my features into a stern frown, eliciting another flicker of a smile from him, “I absolutely forbid them in my presence going forward, sir. There’s no room for that nonsense. I believe in you.”

My final admission escapes low but fervently, surprising even myself. Reluctant hope stirs as I see the tension release its grip on him as he turns my palm up to cradle between both hands, lifting my wrist to his lips.

“What would I do without you?” His whisper brushes my racing pulse, thumbs sweeping distracting circles, lingering before he adds, quieter, “I suppose I should also confess...I did initially try to stand in on the bass.”

He flexes his left hand, lip curling.

“Cocky idiocy of me to think these damaged nerves and my atrophied skill somehow qualified me to play like I used to.” His expression turns rueful as he massages the faint web of surgical scars. “A few fumbled chords quickly clarified to me what a stupid idea that was. Couldn’t even manage the basics before it all seized up. Too little too late trying to force any function back.”

“It’s admirable as hell you were ready to fill in at a moment’s notice yourself to keep things on track. I don’t know anyone else that would do that. It was noble of you to even try.” One thing I’ve learned in this business; it’s the devils with the smooth skin and the angels who show their scars. I know which one Ian is.

He attempts to shake off the failure, but bitterness creeps back into his tone. “Just added insult to injury all around. At least the guys were kind enough not to mock me, the ‘legendary Ian Summer’ laid low by a petty twinge.”

My chest twists hearing him internalize his struggles so severely. I brace his hand between both of mine, trying to stop his self-recriminations. “The only foolishness was pushing yourself too hard by being selfless for them. They’re lucky to have someone so dedicated fighting in their corner. They should be grateful.”

Silence hangs heavily between us in the wake of my outburst before Ian clears his throat gruffly. “I’m sorry, I derailed us with my self-pity party. How are things with you? Is everything going to plan on your end?” His eyes flick meaningfully to my cumbersome brace. “How much havoc happened in your absence, if any? From what I’ve seen, your crew seemsremarkably self-sufficient. Skyler was handling the press queue like a pro.”

I can’t help a small spark of pride hearing that, and I tamp down the simultaneous envy that I didn’t get to see their independence blooming firsthand. I’ve been managing through texts and calls only so far. “Turns out my methodical micromanaging might have finally drilled some skills into them over the years after all.”

I attempt to stretch my throbbing leg to a more comfortable position, trying not to wince. “But don’t let Cooper catch you suggesting he could walk a straight line unsupervised. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Ian carefully helps prop a pillow under my tender leg. Always the caregiver. “Well, I for one am in awe of anyone who can wrangle that many creative personalities without losing their bloody mind.”

His praise warms me, thawing any lingering insecurities I have over my fading usefulness being holed up in my room like this. “We do alright together for the most part. Though, it’s more like a chaotic family dynamic on even the best of days.” I raise a curious brow in his direction. “What about your motley crew, then? Anything else I should warn Logan about when he fills in tomorrow?”

“Oh, geez…where do I start?”

A sharp knockat my hotel room door makes me glance up. I'm thinking maybe Ian forgot something but am surprised when I open it to find Logan standing there looking vaguely ill at ease. Our fearless bassist rarely seeks me out for any sort of one-on-one. And from what I now know, he should be practicing with Chaos Fuel to learn their set list.

"Hey stranger, shouldn't you be rocking out somewhere? I hear you’ve got a new side hustle." I greet him lightly.

Logan shuffles inside, scrubbing a hand through his shaggy brown hair. "Yeah, cool. Okay. I just uh...wanted to check in, I guess? Since you finally emerged from your igloo or whatever." His eyes flick down, seeming to catch on my leg brace for the first time. "Shit, Mac, what happened to you out there?"

My lips twist wryly behind my coffee. "The lift pole won." I sober slightly, seeing concern blaze in Logan's eyes. "Busted fibula. But it’s just a hairline fracture. I'll mend alright. Don’t worry about it."

He nods, tension easing from his frame as he joins me at the small table. We sit in surprisingly easy quiet for a moment, the steam of my coffee curling between us.

"It's not the worst injury we've had to power through, huh?" Logan asks eventually, twirling a ring around his finger absently. I furrow my brow, ghosts of the past sweeping in. Of course, he'd mentally revisit the accident that killed Andy and broke his leg. He knows exactly how this feels.

"We survived worse hells," I agree thickly, ignoring the shine of tears in both our eyes. We all somehow made it through to the other side of that valley of shadows together, and we’re bonded eternally. And here we are, persevering despite everything thrown in our way.

Logan stands, pulling me gently into a one-armed hug. "We've got this," he vows gruffly. “Let me know if you need anything.” I cling fiercer for one breath before stepping back, blinking hard. He seems as though he wants to say something else, but thinks better of it, and clamps his mouth shut.

"Go shine bright with your new rock gods, man." I clap his shoulder once as he turns for the door.

While his visit was out of the ordinary, for him at least, it wasn’t unwelcome. I’ve been thinking a lot about the accident and its aftermath since my own on the slopes. Life is so fragile. Any of us could be stolen any minute without warning. We can be taken completely by surprise to wake up one day and our entire world is upside down.

I do not like surprises.

thirty

. . .

Welcome to the Chaos

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