Page 83 of Hard Rock Deceit

"Don't tell me how to live my life. You don't knowanything."

"I know music means everything to you. I know Darkest Days and the guys mean everything to you. You don't have to give all of it up. You just need to rest and stop pushing yourself. You don't need to prove anything toanyone."

He laughedbitterly.

"Is that what you think I'm doing? They're the ones who kickedmeout."

"Not forever," I said desperately. "Just forthetour."

"They made it clear they won't let me back in unless—" He shook his head. "I'mdone."

"You don't have to just walk away from everything. This doesn't have to betheend."

August growled, pushed open the lobby doors with a shove, ready tostormaway.

Hot tears fell down mycheeks.

"You said you'd stay." I forced the words out. "You told me you'd stay as long as I wantedyouto."

He turned back. His eyes burned withresentment.

"I guess that makes me a liarafterall."

ChapterTwenty-Four

Click.

Delete.

Click.

Delete.

Growling in frustration, I hit the select all button and deleted everyphoto.

All my photos were awful. Everything I'd shotsince…

I swallowed hard, a lump forming in mystomach.

…everything I'd shot since August left had been terrible. It was like my foul mood seeped into my camera, spoiling everyphoto.

A part of me knew I was being too hard on myself. My photos weren't terrible. Theywerefine.

Fine isn't goodenough.

August's words echoed inmyhead.

That was the real reason I was mass deleting my pictures. Every time I looked at a photo I'd taken, August's voice rang in my ear, telling me I could do better, telling me that I had the potential for greatness if only I reached out andgrabbedit.

But it was just my imagination. August wasn't here anymore to tell me thosethings.

And it was all myfault.

August hadn't come back to the hotel that night, or the next morning. He hadn't shown up by the time we had to leave for the next city. The band's manager Naomi called to tell us August had already booked a flightbackhome.

With grim expressions and our hearts in our throats, we had piled onto the tour bus and pulled out of the city without a chance to saygoodbye.

It had been a week now. A week without the drummer of Darkest Days. The swirling pit of guilt and despair in my gut hadn't lessened. If anything, it had grown, like a black hole threatening to consume me from theinside.