Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
AIDEN
I don’t really sleep. I try, but after two hours of tossing around, I quietly get up and leave the tour bus to sit outside in the cool summer nighttime air. For a while I consider building a fire and enjoying it like I would back home before all this band shit and related fame, but that’d probably get me arrested again.
Without really knowing why, I find myself spending the rest of the night clearing out my phone of every message, missed call, and email that’s been sitting unanswered since the night Jordan kicked me out of Designation Outsider. I’ve kept up with messages from Wes, obviously, and my pack in our early days before Knotty Tour, but that’s it really.
Not that we aren’t still early days. God, we are.
Would Exit Fate even exist after this weekend? Honestly, I found myself caring less and less—to my own surprise—as long as it meant Leo is okay. As long as our pack is okay.
I finally return the messages from my parents and brother. At first they were panicked, but I’ve never been good at replying, so I think eventually they just assumed I was okay. I take the longest responding to these, to assure them I’m doing okay and that I’m on tour with a new band. That I’ll probably be home soon and can visit then.
I delete a lot of the messages from various friends and acquaintances in other bands. And remove all the tabloid journalists reaching out. Honestly, so much of my email inbox doesn’t matter I consider just deleting it all.
It’s around sunrise when a surprising text comes in. A new one from Darius.
Hey, I know you don’t want to hear from me right now. But we saw Leo get taken away by ambulance. The news of that is kind of everywhere. He’s a good man. Just wanted to say I hope he’s okay, and I’m sorry for all the bullshit.
My jaw locks as I read his message. Darius never apologizes. I’ve heard maybe three in our whole lives despite the many he owes a lot of people. Whereas I owe him no reply at all. But his concern for Leo tugs at a string I can’t help but feel unraveling.
Leo is okay. We’re probably off the tour after today, so no worries there. I’m sorry too.
The tour bus door opens and Leo shuffles slowly down the steps. I immediately shove my phone into my pocket and move to help him but he waves me off.
“I’m fine.” He continues is slow movement over to one of the other lawn chairs still set up outside from the other day. “You’re up early.”
“So you are you.” I can’t help but look him over for signs of discomfort. More than a long-time friend, I’m terrified for a member of my pack being in such pain. “How are you feeling?”
Leo plunks down very not gracefully at all into the chair then pulls out his own phone. “Alive, but the steroids are working, so I guess I shouldn’t complain.”
I frown. “It’s okay to not be okay, Leo.”
He chuckles dryly and looks up at the sunrise. “That’s good because I won’t be okay again for a while.” He makes a show of opening and closing his free hand. His movements are slow and cautious. “I don’t think the neuropathy will be nearly as bad as last time, but it’s not great. I won’t be able to perform for… a while.” He sighs heavily.
I lean over and tap a fist against his leg. “Hey, it’s okay. Your health matters so much more than all of this.”
“Except to me sometimes.” Then he leans back and roughly runs his hand through his hair. “I guess that’s what got me here, though, so.”
“It’s okay.”
“Is it?” Leo shoots me a worried glance. “Let’s not kid ourselves. Exit Fate was our second and maybe only other shot at this.” I level him with a look, but he carries on. “I just mean that I know this meant a lot to you. I’m sorry this collapsed as it has.”
A few weeks ago I might have been angrier about it, I won’t lie about that. And a good deal of the reason I blew up on Mia for something she didn’t even start with Jordan is very much rooted in the things Leo is bringing up now.
But everything is different now.
“The pack matters most to me in this moment,” I say barely louder than a whisper. As if putting it into actual words and letting it out into the universe might make it more fragile. “Our pack matters most. So if that’s what survives all of this—” I gesture widely around us to the lot of tour buses filled with sleeping artists “—I’m good with that.”
“Me too.” Leo hands me his phone, unlocked to a notes app filled with words. “I know I’m just the drummer, but I wrote something I was hoping you and Mia could turn into… something better .”
“Better hand that here, then. Aiden’s lyrics could use some work.”
I turn to find Mia and Noah coming down the tour bus stairs. She’s grinning, her words thick with sarcasm, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Compared to you? Definitely,” I say.
Mia stands next to me to read Leo’s lyrics over my shoulder as Noah claps Leo on the back before claiming his own chair.
We read Leo’s lyrics and honestly, they’re fantastic. It’s a song about fear and losing time and wanting to both embrace and run from the unknown. Certainly something we all can relate to.
Mia smiles up at him. “Leo, I had no idea you could write too.”
Leo waves her off with a bashful grin. “No, not really. I just felt inspired.”
“Well, you inspired is fantastic,” I say. “We can definitely write a full song to this for the album.”
Noah shifts uncomfortably. “Will there still be an album?
A silence falls between us, one that I’m aware is ending up directed at me. Our band doesn’t have a lead, not really. And a pack full of alphas doesn’t necessarily either. But I’m happy to take lead on this I suppose.
“I want to keep on if possible,” I say with a nod to Leo. “Your health pending, of course. We move around you.”
Leo inhales deeply as if needing to steel himself. “I’ll be out of commission for a while. A few weeks at the very least, maybe months, until this is healed. But treatments for full flares like this can take up to two years during which I’ll be even more immunocompromised than normal.”
I lift my hands. “That’s fine. No one says we have to tour. We don’t even have to make this album right away.”
“Assuming Wes even still wants us,” Noah comments.
Mia crosses her arms. She’s still standing next to me. “I’m sure he’ll be by at some point to tell us just that.”
I shake my head. “Screw Wes. Even if he drops us, we can still have Exit Fate. Just… without a manager. All a manager does is make things easier.”
I don’t mean to fully discount Wes and his impact. He’s done so much for us in such a short amount of time. But the fact of the matter is that it is actually not required to have a manager. We can even find a new studio to record at.
Leo inclines his head. “Okay, then say we carry on with Exit Fate. What happens next?”
“You get better, man,” Noah says. “That’s first and foremost. We can write while you do, hang. Focus on the pack in the meantime.”
“I want to focus on the pack period ,” I say. “You all mean the world to me.”
“And I’ll be in heat again soon as it is,” Mia comments, which for some reason takes me by surprise. Timing wise, yeah, I guess she will be. “Not that that matters, other than me being down for the count for a few days.”
My inner alpha screams with the urge to take care of her during that time nearly as strongly as before Knotty Tour. It’s the same part of me that suddenly wants a house full of pups running around—something I’d never really considered before. But there’s so much time for that. So much time.
Noah looks up at Mia. “You’ve got to tell Designation Outsider and Jordan no, and do it in writing with Wes on the message thread with you.”
Mia whips out her phone and starts typing fast. “Done. Screw them.” She smiles sweetly at me despite the bitterness I know exists for my old band. “You were all the talent they had anyway.”
Noah winces as she says it. “Damn, girl.”
“What?” Mia asks. “It’s true. And ask Sable, I’ve always been a bigger fan of Aiden than the whole band anyway.” Then she stops and her cheeks flush bright red. “Actually, really don’t ask Sable.”
“I kind of need to now.” I grin and pull Mia into my lap where I press my lips against her ear and whisper, “You had posters and album covers all over your room, didn’t you?”
Mia makes a high-pitched sound of embarrassment and shrieks, “I will admit to nothing.”
We all share a long laugh and for a while it’s just peace and happiness with my pack and our omega. And then Wes appears between tour buses, sunglasses already on in the early morning sunlight. He’s dressed casually in jeans and a black Knotty Tour t-shirt.
“Ah, didn’t expect to find you all awake,” he says as he fixes his graying red beard with one hand. “Leo, how are you?”
Leo gives him a small wave. “Much better, thank you.”
Wes looks to Mia who’s still sporting a pretty gnarly bruise on her jaw and he frowns. “We need to have a talk.”
We all nod solemnly because either way this would be happening. We hadn’t said it in plain terms, but in the very least we’re dropping out of Knotty Tour. We have to.
Wes sighs heavily and leans his back against the tour bus. “You know, I really do believe in all of you. I just want that out there.”
“Then why do you look like you’re taking us out back to shoot us,” Mia comments.
Wes raises his eyebrows and nods. “Because it’s kind of like that, yeah. This entire weekend has been a PR nightmare at a time where, without a first album, that might be unrecoverable.” He lifts a finger. “That said, audiences have really warmed up to you in person.”
“So?” Noah asks.
Wes crosses his arms. “I want you to get that first album I promised you. I want you to have that chance. But I’m assuming that your stint on Knotty Tour ends today.”
“It does,” Leo says. “I’m sorry?—”
“No,” I cut in. “You are not apologizing for this.”
Leo opens his mouth to reply but ends up just shaking his head instead.
Wes clicks his tongue. “Leo, your health matters more than this tour or band. I don’t need to tell you that, but I am. I told you I wouldn’t treat you like Lost Time did and that’s real. But so is how this industry works. So.” He sighs again. “Knotty Tour is done. I’m not planning you all another tour just yet, or signing you to next year’s Knotty Tour or anything like that, because if we’re being honest with each other, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“But you want our album?” Mia asks in such a small voice. I understand. She gave up being a solo act for this. How different would the last weeks have been for her if she never signed to Exit Fate?
Wes nods. “Yes, I want the album, but as before, there’s no set due date.”
“We’ve got half an album written as it is,” I say. “It’s a full record, not an EP’s worth.”
“Good.” Wes pulls out his phone. “Then I’ll let Carnation Studio know you’ll get in contact with them to get a recording schedule down but after Leo gets treatment back home. You hear me? Treatment first.”
“Of course,” I say.
Wes types out a message and then shoves his phone back into his pocket. He takes a long look at each of us in turn. “I know you’re all talented and dedicated to music, to this band, and to your pack. But I’m responsible for putting you together and into these situations the last few weeks. Maybe I pushed you all too far, too soon. And I get to live with that. But I also wonder if maybe you’re simply not ready yet.”
His words are each like a stab into my chest. Not ready yet. I’ve been ready my entire life. This isn’t my first rodeo, or Leo’s, and maybe that’s the point.
All this experience and this is what has happened.
Noah and Mia have even less experience.
And Mia’s career might be tainted for all of this from such a young age.
Wes pushes off of the side of the tour bus and straightens. “We’ll get the tour bus back home as quick as possible. Leo, get your treatments set up and sorted. We’ll all check in with each other in a few months, and remember, Carnation Studio is yours to use when you want. Until then, rest foremost. Record, too. But rest.”
And then Wes leaves. Silence falls between us all again, but a single feeling comes out of it.
Resolution.
One look at each of my bandmates, at my pack, solidifies it for us all.
We’ll recover ourselves, and then we’ll record the best album Wes has ever heard. Even if it feels like a third chance at this career is one chance too many.
But it’s not just about our careers, it’s about our pack. And that is the single most important thing to all of us right now.
We pack up, collect our driver, and start heading home.