Page 26 of The Jaded Notes

I wanna argue but can’t.

He huffs an irritated laugh. “You think you can waltz into soundcheck high after what you pulled, and think it’s all gonna be fine because you’re the broken frontman? You keep screaming about what you lost, but maybe the real problem is what you refuse to say.”

I throw the mic down and storm toward him. Feedback howls through the room.

“You think you know what’s in my head, Guns? You don’t know the first goddamn thing.”

“Then enlighten me, Cash. Fuck, I’ve been asking for years.”

I pause, chest heaving. The truth crawls up my throat like a plague, but I choke it back down.

He can never know. No one can know about Leon. Not about what he did. Not about what he still does.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” Bren glares at me. “Youwon’t say it because it would mean admitting you’re not just in pain, you’re fucking haunted.”

I shove him. Hard. “Shut your mouth.”

He pushes me back. “Or what? You’ll write another crude song and sell it behind our backs? You think screaming out a hit or two makes you brave? Real bravery is facing your shit.”

“You want honesty? Fine.” My heart pounds in my chest. “I can’t sleep without pills. I can’t perform without something in my system. And I haven’t looked in the mirror and seen someone I recognize in years because of what he’s done.”

Everyone stops what they’re doing. Silence and heaviness fill the air.

Cooper gazes up, wide-eyed. Hawke slowly sets his notes down and folds his arms. Bren exhales as if he’s held it for a lifetime.

“That’s a start, Cash.” Bren’s stance relaxes a bit. “Whatever it is you’re hiding, say it and we can fucking fix it.”

But I can’t. Because saying it means it’s real. It means I let it happen, and that means Leon wins.

“Forget it.” I amble toward the edge of the stage. “I’ll be ready by showtime. Just stay the fuck out of my way until then.”

He calls after me. “You think she’ll ever take you back after this?”

I freeze.

He fakes a chuckle. “You think Livianna will look at you the same once she hears that song? Once she hears that line about the sex-school grind? Or the part where you call her a rerun?”

“Shut the fuck up.” I start to leave.

He keeps going. “She loved you. And you turned her into a punchline.”

I spin around. “I was high. You can’t understand because you’ve never loved someone, but my heart was ripped out. And I would give anything to erase every fucking day since…”

He steps toward me. “Then why haven’t you? Why haven’t you fucking tried?”

Because I can’t.

“You want me gone, Guns? Just say the word and I’ll walk.”

He stares at me like he doesn’t know me. It’s like he finally realizes what he’s been clinging to isn’t a brother or a bandmate but a hollow shell of a man.

“No, Cash. I want you to stay. I just want the version of you who fought to get Mayhem as big as it is. The guy who sang through the night to make sure we had a future. The one who loved her like a religion. Not whatever’s left of you now.”

I swallow hard. The words gut me more than any knife ever could.

“That version of me died the day she left me.” I turn and march offstage.

Backstage, I find an empty hallway and lean against the concrete wall. I slide down until my butt hits the floor.