Chapter 4 Frayed Edges
FRAYED EDGES
LILY
After the shower, Enzo and I head back to the kitchen, where Dylan and Marcus are still deep in conversation.
They both fall silent as I slide into the booth, and Dylan immediately pulls me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me in a warm, grounding embrace.
Marcus looks up from his phone, his expression tired but with a glint of hope.
“Any ideas?” I ask, my voice steady. Enzo’s words from earlier echo in my mind, reminding me to keep my focus balanced between all of them. But right now, what we need is a solid plan.
Marcus shakes his head. “Nothing yet. But we’ll keep brainstorming.”
Dylan leans his face against my cheek, his usual playful energy muted. “Maybe we should start calling rehabs. See if he checked himself in somewhere.”
It’s a long shot, but we have to explore every possibility. My heart aches every time Jax’s struggle with addiction is mentioned, but I push the feeling aside. We need to move forward. We need to keep trying. “Good idea. Let’s make a list and divide it.”
Enzo nods in agreement, and we all gather our phones. We split up a list of rehab facilities across the city and begin the painstaking task of calling each one.
Hours pass, each call stretching my already thin patience.
The repetitive responses remind me just how vast the search feels, how impossible it seems. Half of the facilities refuse to release any patient information, citing privacy policies that feel like yet another wall that keeps us from finding Jax.
“Hi, I’m looking for a patient named Jax Ryder. He might have checked in recently,” I say, my voice raw and hoarse after what feels like the hundredth call.
“We can’t disclose any patient names. If you know the room number, I can check if he’s available,” the receptionist responds in a practiced tone.
“I don’t have a room number,” I sigh, barely registering as she gives a polite goodbye.
As soon as she finishes, I hang up, my fingers trembling with frustration.
The sense of helplessness threatens to swallow me, but I force myself to continue.
I have to try something, even if it feels like every avenue leads to another dead end.
“Any luck?” Dylan asks, casting a glance my way.
“Nothing,” I reply, my voice a strained whisper.
“Keep going,” Marcus encourages, his voice strained as well. “If he is in a rehab, we’ll find him. If he isn’t, it’s another thing we can cross of the list.”
I nod, taking a deep breath as I steel myself, my eyes scanning the last few places on my list. Marcus insists that if Jax is in a rehab, someone at the front desk will find a way to give us a clue, even if it goes against their policy.
I cling to that belief because the alternative—that all of this is a wasted effort—is too unbearable to consider.
Just six more calls. If those don’t turn up any leads, we’ll regroup and brainstorm a new approach. We won’t stop. Not until we bring Jax home, no matter how many hours or phone calls it takes.
The next hour passes in a blur as I finish my portion of calls. One by one, the guys stop calling too, their lists of crossed-out locations laid on the table, their expressions a blend of frustration and disappointment.
No one has found him.
“Hospitals?” Marcus suggests quietly.
“Hospitals,” Enzo agrees, nodding.
We take a deep breath, and then we begin the tedious process all over again.
After we finish the hospital calls, we move on to hotels. Then motels. Then local short-term rentals.
Ten grueling hours of phone calls later, we’re no closer to finding Jax. Exhaustion weighs on me, heavy and relentless, but I force myself to keep going.
“What’s next?” I ask, my throat scratchy and raw from spending the entire day on the phone.
“Dinner, then rest,” Marcus says firmly, leaving no room for argument.
I want to push back, to demand we keep searching, but I can’t.
I have nothing left—no energy, no ideas, no fight.
And I know Marcus is doing everything he can for Jax, for all of us, while also trying to keep everyone from burning out completely.
He’s taking charge, and the last thing I want to do is undermine his efforts.
With a small nod, I rise from the table and stretch, reaching my arms above my head and leaning side to side. My joints creak with the effort, and a soft moan escapes me as I try to work out the tension.
Dylan clears his throat, and my eyes snap open, meeting his. His heated gaze locks onto mine, and my breath catches. For a moment, the exhaustion fades, replaced by something electric and undeniable.
Enzo claps his hands, the sharp sound jolting me out of the charged moment with Dylan. I glance in his direction, and he smirks, one brow quirking in amusement. "What does everyone want to eat? Besides Lily."
My cheeks flame, but I refuse to dignify the second half of his comment with a response. "How about pizza?" I offer quickly, trying to steer the conversation away from Enzo’s embarrassing commentary.
"I could go for some pizza," Marcus agrees with a casual shrug.
"With a side of Lily," Dylan murmurs, his lips curling into a teasing grin as he winks at me.
“Err, I am going to go wash up,” I reply, knowing my cheeks are on fire. “Pepperoni for me please!”
Without waiting for a response, I practically sprint to the bathroom. Once the door closes behind me, I lean back against it, pressing my hands to my flaming cheeks. I take a few steadying breaths, trying to rein in my runaway libido and cool the embarrassment coursing through me.
Somewhere in the chaos of searching for Jax, I’d forgotten that I’ve slept with every member of Electric Wounds.
Over the past few days, they’ve kept things strictly platonic—aside from my heated shower with Enzo—but now, the weight of what we’ve shared and the lack of resolution suddenly hit me.
I feel shy and uncertain, caught off guard by their teasing in front of each other and my own unresolved feelings.
We never got the chance to have the talk, the one where I told them I was interested in all of them. And with Jax missing, this isn’t the right time to address it either. We all need to be together to move forward.
I decide to play it cool for now, to brush off their comments or laugh along until he’s back. It’s the only way to keep the peace while everything hangs in the balance.
Straightening, I step toward the sink and splash some cool water on my face. I meet my reflection in the mirror, giving myself a small, resolute nod. "You’ve got this," I murmur, the words firming my resolve. With a deep breath, I head back to the main area.
The guys are scattered across the couch, each in their own version of a relaxed pose.
Dylan leans back against the wall, his eyes closed and his head tilted bacl, lost in whatever calm he’s managed to find.
Enzo sits at the other end, absorbed in his phone, his fingers scrolling steadily.
Marcus is perched in the middle, his gaze unfocused on the TV as it plays softly in the background.
When I enter, his eyes lift to meet mine, and he offers a tired but genuine smile.
“Pizza will be here in twenty. Come sit.”
I nod, crossing the space to settle beside him.
I lean my head against his shoulder, letting out a quiet sigh as my eyes fall shut.
Marcus wraps an arm around me, drawing me closer against his side, his warmth seeping into me.
The low hum of the TV mingling with the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulls me into a light, unplanned nap.
A gentle shake stirs me a short time later, and the mouthwatering aroma of pizza fills the air.
I lift my head groggily, blinking awake, only to notice a small damp spot on Marcus’s shirt where my head had been.
I wince, but before I can apologize, Marcus chuckles, a deep, soothing sound that vibrates through his chest. “It’s fine, Lily,” he murmurs. “I’m glad you got a little rest.”
“Let’s eat!” Dylan exclaims, already standing over the boxes laid out on the table.
I push off the couch, following the scent of pizza, and eyeing the stack in front of me. “Six pizzas? Really?” I ask, raising a skeptical brow as I continue to stare at the spread.
“Absolutely,” Dylan says through a mouthful of food, his enthusiasm undeterred. “Hot pizza for dinner, cold pizza for breakfast.”
I laugh, grabbing a plate and loading it up with a couple of slices before joining the guys back on the couch. As we eat, the mood lifts, the easy banter flowing naturally between bites. For the second time today, a fragile sense of normalcy settles over us.
Things feel okay and I let myself believe that everything is going to work out. We are going to find Jax. We are going to finish this tour. Everything will be alright.
Dinner winds down, and we all drift toward the bunks, the quiet settling over the bus like a blanket. Between bites of pizza, Dylan asked me to stay with him tonight, and I agreed. After brushing my teeth, I make my way to his bunk.
I crawl in, nestling close to him. The silence that once felt oppressive now feels calming, a small reprieve from the chaos that I know awaits us outside this tiny bubble of peace that we’ve created.
Dylan wraps an arm around me, pulling me snug against his side, his warmth seeping into me. He presses a soft kiss to my forehead, the gesture comforting and gentle. “Goodnight, Lily,” he murmurs, his voice low and raspy, like sleep is already attempting to claim him.
Smiling softly, I prop myself up on my elbows to plant a light kiss on his lips, sweet and brief, before resting my head back on his shoulder, keeping things simple.
“Goodnight, Dylan,” I whisper, closing my eyes as his steady breathing lulls me into sleep.