Page 76 of Saving the Rockstar

Chapter 24: Asher

The days following the disastrous press conference passed in a blur of misery. I barely left my bed, let alone my home, the weight of my guilt and despair pinning me in place like a physical force. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't do anything but replay those horrible moments over and over in my head.

I couldn't bear to face anyone, to see the pity or the judgement in their eyes. So I hid, I isolated myself, letting the calls from Dylan go unanswered, letting the outside world fade away until there was nothing left but the four walls of my bedroom and the endless, echoing silence of my own regret.

But in that silence, in the long, lonely hours of the night, the memories came. The memories of Jared, of the life we had built together, brief and beautiful and now, it seemed, forever lost.

I remembered the quiet mornings, waking up to the warmth of his naked body pressed against mine, to the soft, sleepy smile on his face as he pulled me closer. I remembered the evenings spent curled up on the couch, my head on his bare muscular chest, his heartbeat a steady, soothing rhythm beneath my ear.

The questions haunted me, chased me down into sleep and jolted me awake in the middle of the night, my heart racing, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The panic attacks, absent for so long in Jared's steadying presence, returned with a vengeance, leaving me shaking and sobbing on the bathroom floor, desperate for a reprieve, for a moment of peace in the chaos of my own mind.

On one of the days of my self-imposed exile, there was a pounding at my door, a familiar voice shouting my name over the sound of the lock being picked.

"Asher! I know you're in there, you brooding bastard. Open up before I break this door down!"

Of course it was Dylan, the one person who would never let me drown in my own misery.

I considered ignoring him, considered burrowing deeper into my blankets and pretending I wasn't home. But I knew Dylan, knew his stubbornness, his determination. He would camp out on my doorstep if he had to, would wait me out until I had no choice but to face him.

So, with a heavy sigh and a heavier heart, I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled to the door, opening it to reveal a very irate, very concerned Dylan.

"Jesus, Ash," he said, his eyes widening as he took in my disheveled appearance, the dark circles under my eyes, the pallor of my skin. "You look like hell, man."

I tried to muster a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. "Thanks, Dyl. Always know I can count on you to boost my ego."

He chuckled, pushing past me into the living room. "Ego boosting later. Right now, we need to talk."

I followed him, sinking down onto the couch with a wince. "I appreciate you coming over, but I really don't..."

"Ah, ah!" He held up a hand, cutting me off mid-sentence. "No buts, no excuses. You've been holed up in here for days, ignoring everyone who cares about you. That ends now."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he barreled on, undeterred.

"I get it, okay? We've all made mistakes, all done things we regret. Things that make us want to hide away and lick our wounds in private."

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his eyes intent on mine. "But that's not how you heal, man. You can't just shut yourself away and hope the pain will go away on its own. Because it won't."

I swallowed hard. "I don't know how to fix this, Dylan."

He smiled then, a small, sad thing. "But that doesn't mean you just give up."

I closed my eyes, the sting of tears burning behind my lids. "What if I've lost Jared forever?"

Dylan was quiet for a moment. Then, softly, "You won't know until you talk to him. You can't let the fear control you, can't let it make your decisions for you. Not anymore."

He stood then, holding out a hand to me. "Come on. We're going out."

I blinked, confused. "Where?"

He grinned, a glint of mischief in his eye. "Out of this place, for starters. You need sun, you need fresh air. You need to remember that there's a world outside of your own head."

I hesitated, the thought sending a spike of panic through me. But Dylan's hand was steady, his gaze unwavering.

"I'll be with you," he said, his voice low and sure. "You're not alone in this, Ash. You never were."

I reached out, gripping his hand tight, and let him pull me to my feet.

"Okay," I said.

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