Page 103 of Hard Rock Deceit

"I hate to see you in pain," Ian said softly. "But I know how much music means to you. I can't—" he broke off, shaking his head. "I can't imagine an August Summers who didn't makemusic."

"You could still compose," Noah said quietly. "You could stillproduce."

"I could," Augustagreed.

"It's not the same and you know it," Ian said. "Being on stage is like nothing else. You can't expect August to givethatup."

"I don't expect him to do anything," Noah retorted. "We're talkingoptions."

"A five percent chance is low, but it's still not zero." Ian's brows drew down into a frown. "If it was me… I don't know if I wouldriskit."

"But without the surgery, August can only play while he's out of his mind on drugs," Damon argued. "That's not an optioneither."

"Rick Allen," Cameron suddenlyspokeup.

The others turned to him. Understanding dawned on their faces. Ian and Damon shared a hopeful glance, communicating without words. Noah gave Cameron athoughtfulnod.

"Who?" Iasked.

I sat at August's side on the living room sofa. None of the guys had asked why I was there for what should have been a private band meeting. August had ambushed them the minute they sat down, not wanting to dragitout.

"Rick Allen, the drummer from Def Leppard," Cameron explained. "He lost an arm in a car accident. Everyone thought his career was over. He learned to compensate by using a specialized drum kit withhisfeet."

August's lips twitchedupward.

"You expect me to drum with my feet?" heasked.

Cameron madeaface.

"I'm not saying it's the best scenario," he said. "But even if your shoulder does get worse, there are alternatives. You don't have to quit playing forever. You don't have to quitDarkestDays."

August didsmilethen.

"Does that mean I'm no longer kicked out?" heasked.

"I need to apologize about that." Damon learned forward in his armchair, resting his elbows on his knees. "I didn't handle it in the best way. I shouldn't have ambushed you. I should have listened. Given you time to explain. I'm an impulsiveidiot."

"I'm the one who should apologize," August said. "I lied to you for so long. I should have trusted you enough to tell you thetruth."

"So it's agreed," Cameron said. "We're all a bunch ofdickheads."

Everyone laughed,exceptIan.

"Can we address the elephant in the room?" Ianasked.

Everyone turned to him, laughterdying.

"August has a problem." Ian leaned forward in his seat, staring August down. "And I'm not talking about yourshoulder."

"I don't—" August began to say, then cut himself off. He looked away, avoidingeveryone'seyes.

"August, you have to say it out loud," Ian said softly. "Trust me, I know how hard this is. You have to admit it. To us, and toyourself."

August out a deep breath. His hands shook. I took one in mine. It was clammy. I squeezed. He squeezed back. When he met Ian's eyes, they were defeated. "I do have a problem," he admitted. "I'm…" he swallowed hard. "I'm anaddict."

Ian nodded in understanding. "And you know what you need to do,right?"

"Therapy," August said with a grimace. "Counseling. Whatever ittakes."