CHAPTER forty-five
Unredeemable, Unlovable
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
I slip out of the room before the heat building in my chest boils over.
The longer I sat there watching Elias sleep, the more my pulse thudded in my ears, each beat pulsing with the same thought—how can someone be so evil?
Elias had never done a damn thing to Traeger, aside from laying him out that one time, and even then, he was provoked.
But apparently, Traeger’s pride is so brittle it splinters at the sight of someone else’s success. At the sight of Elias laughing again. Loved again.
I circle the hospital building, trying to let the chill cut through the knot of rage. My breath ghosts in the glow of the morning sun, each exhale a reminder of just how tightly I’m wound.
I lean my back against the concrete wall, my boiling blood keeping me warm from the morning chill.
I pull out my phone and open Instagram. I swipe over to the private messages and type in a name I never thought I would.
Piecing letters together that feel like a betrayal, but I have to do something.
My hands tremble slightly as I hit send and stare at the screen before pushing off the wall with a breath.
On my way back in, I stop by the cafeteria, letting the hum of vending machines fill the silence. I grab a couple bottles of juice and a pack of crackers, hoping Elias will be able to eat something when he wakes.
I need to talk to him.
He thinks we all believe he did this to himself.
But I know better now—deep in my bones.
I don’t have the full picture yet, but I know enough.
This was Traeger. Somehow, some way, he put Elias here.
When I reach his door, I’m about to step inside when voices stop me cold.
Cody and Elias. Both sharper than usual.
I stay in the narrow strip of wall just inside the entryway, hidden from their view.
“What happened? You seemed so happy, so okay. Nothing like before,” Cody says, his tone equal parts confusion and hurt.
“Why didn’t you just talk to me? To any of us?”
Silence. Thick enough to make my skin prickle.
Then Elias, voice low but heavy enough to crush my ribs:
“What do you want me to say, Cody? I’m a fuck-up. It’s all I’ll ever be.”
The words punch through me. Not just the ugliness of them, but the way he spits them at himself, like they’re proof he deserves this.
And worse. He’s letting Cody believe it’s true.
Why? Why isn’t he telling him what really happened?
“Don’t say that,” Cody fires back. “You’re sick. We’ll do whatever we have to do to get you better.”
Another pause.
“I’m just going to keep letting you down,” Elias says finally, each word landing like a dead weight. “It’s only a matter of time. You might as well accept that.”
I can’t see Cody from here, but I can feel the force of his stare: steady, unflinching.
“Well, if you think I’m giving up on you—if you think I’m going anywhere, that any of us are, you’re sadly fucking mistaken.”
One of the bottles slips from my hands and hits the floor with a thunk.
The voices on the other side of the bed cut off instantly.
I crouch to pick it up, forcing my movements to stay slow, casual, like I’m just clumsy, not like I’ve been standing here pressed to the wall listening. I step into the room, keeping my expression neutral.
Cody’s eyes flick to mine, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth. But then my gaze meets Elias’s.
No smile. No shift in posture. Just a steady, unblinking look from eyes dulled with exhaustion. After a beat, he drops his head, as if even holding my gaze costs too much energy.
“I thought you might want something to eat or drink,” I say, setting the bottles and snacks on the tray table. My voice feels too loud in the quiet.
Cody shakes his head before skirting around the bed.
“I’ll give you guys a minute.”
When the door clicks shut behind him, the air feels heavier. Elias won’t quite look at me, his features caught somewhere between shame and stubbornness. I know that expression. I’ve seen it right before someone builds a wall they don’t want torn down.
I’m not letting him do that to me.
“Why are you lying about what happened?”
His eyes snap to mine so quickly it’s answer enough, even before he speaks.
“I don’t know what you mean.” His voice is flat, but the monitor betrays him. His heart rate kicks up, just enough for me to notice.
“You didn’t do this to yourself, did you?”
A flicker, so small I almost miss it, crosses his face. Suspicion? Relief? Fear? He studies me for a long moment, mouth parting like he might answer, but no words come.
“I saw Traeger leave the bus that night,” I continue. “I didn’t know it was him at first. But it was. He was there.”
Something changes in his eyes, not just recognition, but the kind of pain you try to keep locked behind your ribs. His throat works, and I can see the shimmer of emotion, even as he fights to smother it.
My own voice wavers as I reach for his hand.
“Baby… this wasn’t your fault. I know you didn’t do this. And it’s okay.” I squeeze his fingers gently, trying to anchor him to the truth.
He looks down, lashes shadowing his face.
“Why are you trying to make us believe you did this?”
When he finally answers, it’s barely above a whisper.
“I didn’t think you’d believe me. Didn’t think there was any point. You’d just see it as another lie. And maybe it’s easier for you all to see me as… what I am. What everyone deep down sees me as. A junkie.”
I shake my head, my voice firm even through the burn in my throat. “The people out there who see you that way? They don’t matter. The people who do matter: Cody, the guys, me—we’ve never seen you like that. I don’t see you like that.”
Elias doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look up. His gaze stays fixed on some invisible point in the sheets.
“Tell me what really happened,” I say, my voice unwavering.
He exhales, slow and heavy, then releases my hand. His arms fold tight across his chest, not in defiance, but like he’s holding himself together.
“I was ready to die there, Ramona,” he says finally, each word flat with the kind of truth that leaves no room for doubt.
“He had a gun to my head… told me he’d pull the trigger if I didn’t stick that needle in my arm. And I was ready to die.”
I rest a hand lightly on his arm, hoping the contact might anchor him, might tell him without words that I’m here, that I’m not leaving.
His next breath comes sharper, uneven.
“But then… he threatened you.”
The silence after that is thick enough to press against my skin. I can see him wrestling with the memory, the fury it carries.
“He said he’d hurt you. That he’d…” Elias stops, his jaw tightening, and when he looks at me, his amber eyes are split open, somewhere between rage and heartbreak.
“He took my phone,” he continues, voice trembling. “Said he’d lure you there. Make me watch.”
One tear escapes, tracing down the line of his cheek before he blinks the rest away.
“There is nothing left in this world that could make me do drugs again,” he says, pausing to steady his breathing. “But the thought of seeing you hurt. That it would be my fault…” His throat works around the words.
“I would’ve done anything to stop that. Anything.”
My hand flies to my mouth, trying to hold back the sob already breaking free. My chest feels too small for my heart, for the sheer force of grief and love colliding in it.
“So I tried to stop him. I tried to grab the gun, to overpower him,” Elias says quietly. “But he knocked me out before I could and when I woke up the needle was already in my arm.”
The dam in me bursts.
“I’m so sorry,” I manage between ragged breaths, tears hot on my cheeks.
He shakes his head immediately, his gaze locked on mine.
“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. I’d do anything to keep you safe.”
“We have to tell the guys. Tell them the truth,” I say.
Before Elias can say anything else, the door opens and the doctor steps inside, Cody trailing close behind. He goes over Elias’s prognosis—slow recovery, fragile but steady—and outlines the plan for rehab. The guys already have a center lined up; in two days, Elias will start treatment.
He doesn’t object. Not a word.
His arms stay folded tightly, shoulders hunched, gaze locked on some invisible point above the doctor’s head. He looks… emptied out. Not just tired, but hollow. The spark that used to flicker behind his eyes is gone, reduced to the dull glow of a coal barely clinging to heat.
When the doctor leaves, Cody offers again—he and his mom would take Elias in, now that the walls between them are finally rebuilding. But Elias shakes his head. He insists on going back to his own place. His little apartment in the city.
Cody’s jaw works, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he insists that he’s staying with him.
The ride over is silent. Elias leans his head back on the headrest with his eyes closed as Cody drives.
When we arrive and step inside, Cody pulls him into a hug so fierce it borders on desperate, clutching him like he might slip away if he lets go. Elias leans into it, forehead pressed hard against Cody’s shoulder. The sight of it makes my throat ache.
I turn away to give them their moment, pulling out my phone as a distraction. My fingers hover for only a second before I swipe open Instagram and into my messages. My hands tremble as I read the response. I send another message before I glance back up as they finally pull apart.
Cody hugs me next, his smile small, worn thin with exhaustion, but still there. Then he disappears into the bedroom and closes the door, leaving us.
When I turn back, Elias is standing in the kitchen, arms crossed again. His posture is rigid, every line of him wound tight. I step forward and wrap my arms around him, hoping to soften the edges, but instead the tension only hardens beneath my touch.
“I’ll go out and get us some dinner. Will you be okay here with Cody?” I say, running my hand along his arm. He nods.
“Are you going to tell him?” I ask quietly.
I’ve wanted to tell him and the rest of the band since the moment I found out, but this isn’t my story to tell. It’s Elias’s and I won’t take that decision from him.
“I don’t want to put anyone else in danger. I know the guys will try to retaliate. It’s not worth anyone else being hurt. I can’t be the reason for that.”
And in that moment it hits me. When I found Elias on the bus he wasn’t trying to say I tried. He was trying to warn me about Traeger. Even in what could have been his final moments he was trying to protect me. To protect us.
I try my best to steel my expression even through the realization as I respond, “I understand…I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”
He pauses for a beat, looking at me with tired eyes and I can tell there’s something more he wants to say, but he doesn’t.
I kiss his cheek before I head out of the apartment.