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“I know it’s not, but I feel responsible.” Rory lets out a soft sob. “What was I thinking?”
“You were thinking I needed to sleep. You made sure I did, and I thank you for that. I’m the one who should’ve been taking care of Dragon. This band is my responsibility.”
“I won’t let you do that to yourself, Jess. We are all responsible for this band, including Dragon.”
“I know. I know. I just don’t think he did this, Rory. I guess we won’t know until he wakes up.” I run my fingers through my hair. “If he fucking wakes up.”
“Come on, Jesse. You can’t think like that. He’s going to be okay.”
My heartbeat begins to accelerate, and it’s already racing. I can’t keep talking about this. I need to focus. “I’ve got to go.”
“All right. Keep us posted. In the meantime, I think Jake is our only chance.”
“I’ll think about it.”
I end the call. So we have Jake on drums, me on guitar. Cage on keyboard, and Rory singing. We’d still have four people onstage, and I could still sing. But Jett Draconis was right. When I’m focusing solely on singing with Rory, I’m better. Sure, I can still rock the place when I’m playing guitar and singing, but Rory and I together on vocals and nothing else… We make magic.
And we need that magic to make this tour a success.
We also need Dragon.
Dragon…
Man, he’s had a rough life. He’s conquered so much, overcome so many demons.
He can’t go out like this. He just can’t.
How long has it been?
Time seems to have suspended itself. Sometimes it seems like hours and hours have passed, and sometimes it seems like the ambulance pulled up to this hospital only seconds ago.
My heart is still pounding, and my stomach is churning. Nausea is creeping up my throat. Eating something would probably help, but the thought of putting anything in my mouth makes me want to upchuck.
Because I know the truth.
This isn’t Rory’s fault.
Hell, I don’t even think it’s Dragon’s fault. I think he was probably drugged by those two little shitheads.
No. Only one person is at fault here.
The person who should’ve been taking care of the band instead of screwing Brianna Steel last night.
I had one big shot.
And I fucking blew it.
Chapter Two
Brianna
Maddie and I are sitting with Rory, Brock, Donny, and Callie. Our server brought us each a breakfast of eggs, bacon, two types of sausage, potatoes, and roasted tomatoes, but not one of us has touched any of it.
The best I can do is sip the shitty cup of coffee I ordered. From now on I’ll be drinking tea, even at breakfast. Coffee is not an English thing. I’m a coffee snob. My mother raised us only on the best, strongest, most robust coffee. A morning without coffee is foreign to me, but the English do tea like no one else. Their tea is a hundred times better than their coffee.
Why I’m thinking about coffee, I have no idea. A man’s life—and the band’s future—is at stake.
“You really think I should?” Rory asks.
