Julian's already here, sitting at the piano, picking out a melody with the kind of focus that tells me he's trying not to think about the empty space.
"Still no word?" I ask, though I already know the answer.
Julian shakes his head without looking up. "Straight to voicemail. Has been for three days."
Sonny appears from the lounge, bass slung across his chest, drumming his fingers against his thighs in that restless way he has when he's anxious.
"He's not answering anyone, man. Not me, not Levi, not even his misses. She called me yesterday asking if I knew where he was."
Fuck.
Levi emerges from the booth, concern etched across his face.
"This isn't like him. I mean, yeah, he's flaked before, but never like this. Never completely off the grid."
Right now, I need to keep the boys steady. I need to be the constant in a world that keeps pulling people apart. Need to be what Nick was for me when I was spiraling—present, patient, refusing to give up even when giving up would be easier.
"We'll rehearse without him," I say, moving to the console and pulling up the session we've been working on. "He'll come back when he's ready."
"Will he though?" Sonny's voice has an edge I haven't heard before. Frustration bleeding into anger. "Because we're supposed to finish this album in six weeks. We've got tour dates booked for the fall. Venues confirmed, tickets on sale. And Tommy's just gone. Again."
Julian stops playing, turns to face us. "He's going through something?—"
"We're all going through something," Sonny interrupts, and there's real heat in his voice now. "That's life. That's being in a band. But you don't just disappear on your brothers. You don't leave everyone hanging while you deal with your shit alone."
"He's not thinking straight right now," I say carefully. "Whatever he's dealing with, it's bigger than the album. Bigger than the tour."
"Then maybe we need to start thinking about a replacement."
The words come out harsh, and Sonny immediately looks like he regrets them, but he doesn't take them back.
"I'm just saying—how are we meant to go on tour if he keeps flaking on us?"
"We're not replacing him," Julian says firmly.
"Yeah well, you don't see any of us ghosting for days on end without a word," Sonny shoots back. "He doesn't give a shit about us or this album."
"Enough." My voice cuts through the argument, firm but not angry. "I hear you, Sonny. I do. And you're not wrong to be frustrated. But we're not making any decisions about Tommy's place in this band until we've actually talked to him. Until we know what's going on."
Julian nods. "Nate's right. We owe him that much."
Sonny's jaw works, tension radiating off him, but he nods reluctantly.
"Fine. But if he doesn't show up in the next week, we need to have a real conversation about what happens next."
"Agreed," I say.
I'm worried. More worried than I'm letting on.
Because I recognize the signs—the withdrawal, the silence, the gradual disappearance from everything that used to matter. I've seen it before. In mirrors, mostly. In the months before I hit bottom.
Tommy's going down a dark path, and I don't know if we canpull him back before he goes too far. I believe he'll come back because I have to. Because the alternative—that we'll lose him the way we've lost too many others—is unacceptable.
Music fills the room soon after—Julian's voice, Sonny's bass, Levi's drums. They sound good despite the absence. They sound hungry. They sound like they still have something to prove.
I just hope Tommy remembers he does too.
CHAPTER 26
