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The next few hours were surreal. It was like living a nightmare in slow motion, with no hope of waking up. We’d rushed to Carter and Meg’s suite, where paramedics had arrived moments before we did. There was no hope, though. Carter was a strange, bluish color, a needle on the floor next to his very still body. He was curled on his side, a few hotel envelopes with his handwriting on them on the coffee table.
Meg was inconsolable, Presley was paler than I’d ever seen her, and my own stomach churned with horror, grief, and guilt. Had I somehow caused this, by bringing him into the shitstorm of my impromptu wedding? Aurora had been on a tear yesterday after the wedding, more furious than the situation warranted, but I’d assumed she would calm down once she got past her jealousy or whatever was driving her reaction.
Right now, I was too shaken to think rationally, but my wife and Aunt Meg needed me to man up. There were cops and hotel staff and medical personnel everywhere, and I had to reach out to the band before the press leaked the news. The easiest thing would be to call Dorian, and I excused myself into the hallway to do it.
“Hey, Z. Thinking about another woman on the morning after your wedding night?” she teased.
My voice cracked. “Dorian… we’ve got… a problem.”
“Z?” Her voice instantly changed, as if on alert. She knew me well, so if I was rattled, she knew there was a serious problem. “What is it? What do you need?”
“It’s Carter.” Fuck, I was going to break down if I wasn’t careful.
“Oh, no. Another relapse?”
“He’s gone, Dorian.” Yup, I was done. Saying the words out loud brought tears to my eyes and I let my chin hit my chest. Fuck, I didn’t want to cry anywhere people could see me.
“Oh, fuck, Z. No.” Her voice caught.
We all adored Carter. His playful smile and mischievous antics always had us laughing, having a good time. The drug use was annoying and obviously dangerous, but Carter rarely let it impact his relationships with the band or anyone involved in our organization. The idea that he was gone and would never drive us crazy again was almost too much.
How the hell was I going to move forward?
“I need you, to, uh…” Yeah, tears sucked. I pulled in a deep, shuddery breath, trying to keep my composure until I was alone. “Please. I need you to let the band and Aurora know. I don’t know any details, but I’m pretty sure he overdosed.”
“Oh, no no no.” Dorian was crying now too, not even trying to hide it.
“I’m sorry to put this on you, but I just can’t,” I whispered. Presley had just come into the hallway and was now burrowed against my chest, holding on to me tightly.
“I’ll take care of it,” Dorian said. “I just need a few minutes.”
She disconnected, and I wrapped my arms around Presley, letting her sob against my chest.
“I don’t understand,” she cried. “He was fine last night… he and Meg were having so much fun. She was posting on InstaPixel until at least two in the morning, with pictures of the two of them at that club. I don’t understand…”
“I don’t know that there’s any way to explain the mind of an addict,” I said gruffly. “Like he told you, it wasn’t about a physical need, it was mental. He liked it. Craved it. Ah, fuck, Carter, what did you do?” I couldn’t stop the tears that slipped down my cheeks, and as unmanly as it was, the man who’d loved Carter like a brother was devastated.
“Aunt Meg needs us,” she said after a while. “She’s a mess, but they wouldn’t let me stay with her while the police asked her questions.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” I said.
“You think we need to call her a lawyer?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “But we will if we have to.”
My phone had been ringing nonstop, and though I ignored Aurora’s call, I answered Kingston’s.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “Where are you? Is it true?”
“It’s true.” I shivered despite the fact it wasn’t cold. “We’re here with the police and the paramedics. I don’t have any news, other than it looked to me like suicide.”
Kingston let out a string of curses. “God dammit, Carter. God damn him to hell!” He disconnected.
I knew he wasn’t mad at me. He would deal with his grief privately, like I wished I could, and then call me back when he was ready. It wasn’t like I had any answers.
“Oh, wow, Cheyenne is here in Vegas,” Presley murmured. “She just texted me, asking if we need anything. So the news is already out.”
