Page 64 of Pretty Obsessed

Forgiveness was a strange beast. I could forgive transgressions against me, and I could forgive friends and family for egregious acts in and out of their control. I believed intent mattered and I would weigh in on my forgiveness because no matter how hurt I was, people did things for all kinds of reasons. There was only one person I had a hard time forgiving and that was myself.

I don't think I'd ever forgive myself if Iris hadn't survived this. I had a hard time even thinking the word. Death. The most permanent thing. My hands shook with the horror of it.

I drove away from the only person I'd ever connected with on a romantic level to dive into a tragedy. Trading connection and chemistry for catastrophe. My chest ached and I wanted nothing more than to pull into the first gas station I found for a drink or ten.

Iris—the shining example of the descent of a good man. He had the kindest heart under the shell of sorrow and armor he wore. And it killed me to watch him fall into the cycle his genetics made possible.

We resisted our genes for as long as we could until life wore us to the point of breaking. Who could hope to stay sober forever? Could any of us escape our heritage?

I hadn't had a drop since that night years ago. Not one single drop and the craving hit like it was yesterday. Every scar written over my heart told me how easy it would be to forget.

The only thing driving me forward was the idea that Iris was still alive. That some other emergency arose, and all my pain was merely imagined. I willed my phone into service. I tried not to look at it every thirty seconds on the treacherous mountain roads.

My phone pinged and my breath caught in my throat. I wasn't ready, but I knew I wouldn't ever be ready. I pulled onto the shoulder and picked up my phone, about to open the messages from Alexander when it started ringing.

Lowe. Not the person I expected to be getting a call from. Lowe and I weren't the closest. He treated the band the most like a job while the rest of us felt like it was a vocation. He played piano and took classical style seriously. He wrote a lot of the melody with Cas and Iris.

"Hello?"

"You on your way back here?"

"What's going on?"

"No one told you?" Lowe asked.

"I was out of service how would anyone have told me?”

He was quiet for a moment and if I could have strangled him through the phone I would have. The suspense settled around my neck like a noose, tightening with every passing breath.

"It's not looking good," Lowe said at last.

"What did he do? What hospital is he at?" If I drove there, I might beat the plane. I could cut the time down if I sped.

"What?" Lowe's confusion drew me back from the mental cliff my mind was about to jump off.

"You tell me what," I demanded, anger crept into my voice, and I tried my best to swallow it back. This wasn't the person I wanted to be, even in this situation. I wouldn't allow myself to use an excuse to become my father.

"Iris is threatening to quit and not come to Japan."

I gasped. I'd gone into a spiral over this? I slammed my head against the seat rest. Anger flooding through me. Alexander leaving the message he did drove all of this. But was it my fault for assuming the worst?

"What did you think?" Lowe broke my line of thought and I realized I hadn't responded.

"I thought he'd overdosed." Or killed himself, but I wasn't ready to admit that to anyone out loud.

"Oh shit. I'm sorry, man… Are you okay?"

"I will be." The truth was I didn't know how to process the news.

"I'm driving down from the mountains now. Does Alexander have a plane waiting for me someplace?"

"I um… I don't know. I wanted to see if you were coming. No one knew where you were."

"I was staying with a friend in a cabin. Getting some downtime." I hoped he wouldn't press for more. It wasn't his thing. I think he wanted everyone to respect his privacy too much. He was always dating some high-profile celebrity and the tabloids ate it up, but he refused to publicly acknowledge any of the relationships. No matter where we were on tour, he was photographed with someone as famous as he was and it only made him more notorious. He had a few popular breakup songs written about him as well.

Quite notorious but he never breathed a word of it to anyone. Because he demanded so much respect for his personal life, he gave the same. Or maybe he didn't care.

"Okay, well, I'm sure you should be speaking to Alexander about the flight."

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