Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” I agree, the lump in my throat forming. “That, and failing my friends, and then turning to drugs and then ending up right back here. I’m not ready.”
I clutch my chest as it rises and falls in quick succession, feeling the stirrings of another anxiety attack. “What if I’m not the same guy they know? What if I can’t play the drums and the band fails? What if I can play, and then we go on tour, and I’m back to craving the drugs?” I voice my concerns, the same ones I’ve expressed all week. “What if I walk out of here and I can’t handle it? What if I go to the grave to see Tori, and the pain in my heart hurts so bad that I’m not strong enough to say no?”
Pamela opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. “And before you say that’s what my sponsor’s for, what if he’s not there? What if I don’t call him because I want to do the drugs?”
With every what-if, my heart pumps harder, my palms clutch tighter. Sweat beads across my forehead. “I’m scared,” I tell her, not for the first time. “I can’t fail them again. They’re waiting for me to go back to making music and being their friend, and I’m fucking scared. Please,” I beg. “I’m not ready. I need to stay longer.”
She releases a soft sigh and nods in understanding, and I instantly calm. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do…”
CHAPTER TEN
GAGE
Seven Months Later
As I run down the sandy beach, the chilly salt water laps against my ankles as the wind whips around my face. It’s November in Long Beach, so it’s cold as fuck outside, but that doesn’t stop me from going on my morning run. The cold air fills my lungs, reminding me that I’m alive.
When I arrived at the beach house after being discharged from Changing Seasons, I spent hours at the beach. Swimming in the ocean, watching the stars at night. Writing lyrics. Finding myself.
With my sponsor, Gabe, by my side, and Pamela doing sessions via video, it felt like I was taking baby steps. Not quite in the wild but not caged either. I hate that aside from a couple of texts, I haven’t spoken to anyone, but I needed to focus on my healing. While on drugs, I didn’t like the person I was, but without them, I didn’t know who the hell I was. And I needed to figure that out on my own. Who I am without the band, without my friends. Without the ghosts of my mom and Tori hanging over my head. I’m still not quite there, but at ten months drug-free, I feel a hell of a lot closer.
A month ago, Gabe moved out, and we now talk daily on the phone. My calls with Pamela are also down to every other day. See… baby steps. Our last conversation was about if I’ve decided when I’m returning home… if I’m returning home. Pamela pointed out that I’m not the same person I was six years ago, and if being in a band is no longer what I’m interested in, the guys will understand.
But I’m not ready to give up the band just yet. And not because they’ve been waiting for me, but because before the drugs, I loved beating on those fucking drums, and I want a chance to see if I still love them. The only problem is, there’s only one way to find out… I have to go home.
And I’m a fucking chickenshit.
I’m slowing to a light jog as I get closer to the house when I spot a woman leaning against the fence. She’s wrapped up in a winter coat with a beanie on her head as she rubs her gloved hands together.
“Are you freaking crazy?” Kendall, Declan’s wife and mother of his five-week-old twins, yells as I approach. “It’s like thirty degrees out here.”
She smiles warmly at me, and I pull her into a hug, realizing this is the first human contact I’ve had in months. “You look so good, Gage,” she murmurs, kissing my cheek.
“Thank you. How are the babies?” I ask as we walk up to the house to get out of the cold. I was shocked to learn that Declan—after all the years of crushing on Kendall—finally got the girl. I was also so damn happy for him.
“Perfect. Amazing. Exhausting,” she says with a laugh.
“They with you?”
She shakes her head. “I thought it would be best if I came alone.”
When she texted me a couple of days ago, telling me that she got my number from Declan and he didn’t know she was contacting me, she asked if she could come and see me.
“It’s beautiful here,” she says, staring out at the ocean. “I can see why you love it.”