Chapter Thirteen
BAX
I navigate the car down Gavin and Everett’s street to the sound of a grunge rock song streaming from the speakers.
In the seat beside me, Tyler sings along.
After spending the last four days at his house taking care of him while his housemates were away, we were both eager to get outside for a change of pace.
Breathing in the fresh air and feeling the wind and sunshine on my face is a welcome change.
It’s been two weeks since he broke his collarbone. He’s in less pain than the early days, but still too much for my liking.
We’ve spent the past four days playing video games to get him used to his new one-handed controller, watching movies, and playing strategy card games Phil left for us.
Yawning, I pull into a spot across from Gavin and Everett’s house. The coffee run Tyler and I did after getting him a sling with a better padded strap hasn’t kicked in yet.
Tyler plays with the strap’s Velcro edge. “Are you sure your bandmates won’t mind that I’m here?”
“It’s fine. I texted them today to let them know, and Everett said you were welcome to hang out. You can sit in the living room and watch TV. Maybe try taking a nap in their recliner.”
“A nap sounds good. I wish I didn’t wake up so much at night.” Sitting up, propped with a ton of pillows is the only comfortable position for him, but he hasn’t had a restful night’s sleep for two weeks.
Sympathy twinges in my chest. “Hopefully, that changes. It should, as you heal and the pain lessens.”
“Hope so.” He removes his seatbelt and opens the door. He’s lucky that he didn’t lose the use of his dominant hand.
I race to drape his coat over his shoulders and guide him to the sidewalk and up the steps to the small house. “We shouldn’t be more than an hour or hour and a half.”
“No worries. I’ll be fine. We can pick up pizza on the way home.” Tyler leans into me, and I can feel his exhaustion. Having an up-close view of what athletes go through mentally and physically when they suffer injuries has been eye-opening.
Everett opens the door wide. “Hey, good to see you. Come in. How’s the shoulder, Ty?”
“Healing, thanks.” Tyler holds his good arm in front of his sling for extra protection as he squeezes past Everett. “Sorry I’m crashing your practice. I’ll stay out of the way.”
“No problem. You’ll probably be more comfortable up here. The couch in the basement isn’t very soft. Help yourself to anything in the fridge, and yell down if you need anything. Bax, get the man a water.”
Hiding a smile, I do as he says. I haven’t been to practice in two weeks because the times conflicted with when Tyler needed me. I’m happy he was feeling up to going out today, though I have a constant worry about him banging his arm, or someone crashing into him.
We get Tyler settled on the recliner with a few throw pillows propping his arm, the TV remote, and a glass of water.
When we get to the basement door, Everett touches my forearm, halting my steps. “How are you doing? Caretaking can be exhausting.”
“Tired, but good. I like being there for him. Soren and some of the guys come home tonight, so that’ll help. Their flight gets in around ten.” I stretch my arms overhead and hide another yawn.
“Gav and I are here if you need anything.”
I twist my neck to the right, then the left, working out the kinks. Tyler isn’t the only one who hasn’t been sleeping well. “Thanks.”
We head down the stairs. Gavin is perched on his stool, playing with something on his phone. Across the room, Layne sits cross-legged on the couch, scribbling in his songbook. His sleeves pushed up to his elbows show that his bruises have all healed.
“Hey guys.” I set my phone near my kit so I’ll be able to see if Tyler texts.
“About time you got here.” Layne doesn’t look up and doesn’t stop writing. His foot, shaking fast, tells me he’s either angry or has a lot of pent-up energy. I won’t hazard a guess as to which it might be.
I glance at the clock. “I’m not late. Right on time, actually.”
Shaking my head, I settle behind the drum kit and hold back the retort of how many times he’s been late and made us all late.
Gavin puts his phone down. “How’s Tyler? How are you?”
“Tired, but hanging in there is probably accurate for us both. Let’s go over what we’re doing for next Friday’s show.
We have time for a five-song set.” The Metros don’t have a game that day, so I won’t have to worry about Ty being taken care of.
I’ll still worry because I’m learning that’s a given when it comes to Tyler and Soren.
Gavin grabs his bass. “I was thinking “Dog Days,” “Fuel to the Fire,” “Walking Nightmare,” and maybe “Shades of Shadows,” and “Out of Time.”
“Hold up. We need to chat about something first.” Layne tosses his songbook onto the cushion beside him.
“Jett Hale from Hard and Heavy Live reached out. He said Luke Thompson told him about us. They’re putting together an intimate concert of bands people should know about and would like us to be there. ”
“Wow, really?” I stare at Layne. My brain sputters, freezes, then sputters again, trying to make sense of what he just said.
Hard and Heavy Live has been a rock music staple for decades.
Tons of huge bands have played on the show over the years.
“Wait, they film the show in Manhattan. Where’s the concert? ”
“There. April twenty-fifth. It’s a Saturday. We can fly out Friday afternoon and come back on Sunday.”
The dates ping in my brain as I bring up mental pictures of the Slash and Metros schedules. “I’m not sure how Tyler will be by then. The first round of the playoffs would be starting sometime around then, and if both teams are involved, he’ll need me to stay with him.”
“You’ll still be taking care of him next month?” Layne gapes at me. “It’s a broken bone, not recovering from major surgery.”
“Shh.” I jab my finger toward the ceiling. “He’s right upstairs. Don’t be a dick.” I spit the words out in a hushed growl and grit my teeth together. “He has a significant injury, and he needs help dressing, showering, and someone to basically be his hands. It’s more than a simple broken bone.”
Layne uncrosses his legs, stretching them out in front of him with an air of indifference that has me fisting my hands. “He’s the reason you missed practices over the last two weeks. He’s a grown man. Are you telling me that he can’t find someone else to stay with him?”
The urge to throat-punch my best friend flares. “That’s. Not. The. Point.” I clench my fists. “I said I’d stay with him. He’s struggling right now and needs the support of people he trusts.”
“Yeah, well, I already told Jett we’d do it.” His look is expectant. Like that will make me immediately cave and agree.
“You can’t commit to things without checking with us.” I tug at my hair, but it does nothing to calm the blaze simmering in my gut. “Especially one that comes with big expenses like flights and hotel rooms.”
He lifts his chin. “I did what any of us would do.”
My head is shaking in the negative before he’s even finished.
“If I’d talked to them, I would’ve said thanks and we’ll get back to you once I check with my bandmates.
” He’s handled the bulk of the social media and account monitoring because he likes it the most and is good at it.
But I should check it more so things like this don’t happen.
He stands, and as much as he tries to act cool, I see the tension in his movements and the twitching of his jaw. “So… what? You don’t want to do it?”
“It’s not just me. Gav and Ev have a say.”
But the pair don’t say anything, they just watch Layne and me like we’re on opposite sides of a tennis match.
Pacing the length from Gavin’s bass to Everett’s guitar, I consider the upcoming weeks. “Tyler will be close to six weeks post-injury by then. Maybe he’d feel up to traveling and could come with us.”
But right now is too soon to tell. I’m worried he’ll try to push himself too hard and end up with a setback.
Layne gives me the biggest eye roll ever. “Seriously?”
Frustration flashes bright, and I stomp toward him, stopping when I’m in front of him. “What is your problem?”
“Nothing.”
“That eye roll says otherwise.” I’m so done with him right now. Tired of his moods and his keeping everything to himself, Tired of the constant worry over him or what he’s going to do next. Just tired. And ready to burn it all down. “Either he comes or I don’t go.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Funny how you can spot it in others.”
He steps closer until our toes touch and tips his face up at me with all the unyielding obstinacy that kept the music going when we were young and everyone told us we’d never amount to anything. But now threatens to ruin us. “You need to think about how your decisions affect all of us.”
I get in his face. “So do you.”
“I am thinking about the band. How we can move forward.” Layne takes a step back, but if possible, his demeanor reads as even more adamant. “We need to strike while the interest is hot.”
“I understand that, but that doesn’t mean you unilaterally decide for us. And what’s your problem with Ty? Explain that eye roll.”
Layne strolls to the couch and picks up his notebook, turning his back to me as he speaks. “You’re putting some guy you’re dating ahead of the band, who’s been by your side for the past five years. This is our chance for wider exposure.”
“He’s not some guy!” I growl. Okay, maybe it’s more of a scream. I yank on my hair because he is beyond infuriating.
Layne spins to face me, his expression blank. “Maybe we need to find a new drummer.”
“What the fuck, Layne?” Gavin’s question slices sharp as a knife through the air.
Layne keeps his gaze on me. “Your priorities are fucked up and your commitment is lacking.”
I laugh in disbelief. “Because I don’t want to fly to New York without making sure one of my boyfriends is okay?”
“And you missed two practices.”