It’s fucking festival day.

Our first festival and we’re scheduled to be on the main stage. Our time slot is 3:30, but still—main stage. The excitement has my stomach flipping out. So much so that it woke me up at seven and I haven’t been able to get back to sleep. Instead, I’ve checked social media, gone down the rabbit hole of videos on YouTube, and watched the girl I love sleep.

It’s taken every ounce of self-control I have not to wake Liz. We were up late last night and today will be long and hot, so I want to let her rest. But I also have all this energy that I need to get out, and fucking her would be the perfect way to do it.

Excitement trumps nerves on the scale of how I feel about today. I know from being at festivals as a fan that people camp out all day at the main stage so they can be front row for the headliner. Nothing about that sounds fun for me as a concertgoer, but as a performer I appreciate that we’ll have guaranteed people upfront. I’m more interested in seeing how many people, out of those who wander from stage to stage, come over to see our set. I hate that I’m even thinking about it, because I have no control over it, but I do.

We’ve got a few interviews scheduled with radio stations before we have to head over to the festival. I’m on my way to meet the guys in the lobby.

“You sure you’re okay with hanging out by yourself for a bit?” I ask Liz for the second time this morning. She’s got to be annoyed by how nervous I am. I’m annoyed with myself.

“I’m positive,” she answers, opening her eyes. “Don’t worry about me, Austin. I’m good on my own.” She hasn’t gotten out of bed yet.

I cross the room and plant a huge kiss on her lips. “I’m off. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

“Go get ’em, babe! I’ll see you soon.”

I wink one last time before leaving the room. Time to light Atlanta on fire.

Once the band before us is finished removing their gear from the stage, we’ve got twenty minutes changeover time to get our stuff set up. That’s a lot less time than we have at a normal show. Thankfully, our tour manager and crew have it down to a science. Still, twenty minutes means all hands on deck and Tim is nowhere to be found.

As Nelson works on my amp, I adjust my mic stand to my height and look out over the crowd to see if I can spot Tim anywhere. When I drop my eyes to the crowd that’s gathered already, I see Liz. I haven’t seen her for a few hours. We had some interviews and a meet and greet before our set, and she wanted to walk around and listen to other bands while we completed everything we needed to do.

It’s refreshing to have an independent girlfriend who can entertain herself when I’m busy with work. But seeing her standing there front and center, bouncing on her toes, makes my heart soar while grounding me in the moment.

“Hey, babe. I like your dress,” I say raising my hands to make a heart shape in front of my chest.

Her cheeks flush pink and she lifts her hand in a shy wave.

“I better get more than that when we go on,” I tease.

“Austin!” Someone yells, which starts a stream of shouting.

“We love you!”

“Please play Open Your Heart!”

Just as I give the crowd a smile and thumbs up, Tim stumbles across the stage, tripping on a wire as he approaches his spot.

“What the fuck, man?” Fozzie yells.

“Yeah! I’m good. Let’s go!” He claps his hands, then picks up his guitar and attempts to lift the strap over his head. It gets caught on his head first, then his ear, then it slips from his hand and crashes to the stage. “Fuck.”

Both Nelson and I rush to him immediately. It’s almost a hundred degrees today and we’re all sweating like fucking pigs, but Tim’s face is ruddy and red; he’s sweating profusely. He sniffs. There’s no doubt that he’s on some kind of drug. I don’t know what it is and I don’t care. We don’t have time for this shit. Not today. Not on a stage this large with a crowd that gets bigger and bigger with every minute closer to the start of our set.

Why didn’t we fire him before coming to this festival?

“What’s up, Tim?” Nelson asks. “What’s going on, man?”

“Nothing. I’m good.” He stoops to pick up his guitar and loses his balance. I reach out and catch him before he hits the ground. His eyes roll to the back of his head and he slumps in my arms.

“He can’t play like this,” I say, panic raising in my voice. “Fuck! Call Jimmy over.”

“Jimmy!” Nelson calls to our assistant tour manager. “Jimmy, come over here.”

“Yeah?”

“You still know bass for all the songs?” I ask.

He nods. “Absolutely.”

“Can you play bass for this set?”

He nods again. “Anything you need, man.”

Anything I need? I need someone to smash their fist into Tim’s stupid, fucking face. But that won’t solve anything right now.

Instead of voicing my violent thoughts, I clasp Jimmy’s hand and pull him in for a shoulder-bump-bro-hug. “Thanks, man. I appreciate you.”

Nelson turns around. “All good, Foz?”

“Yup.” He gets up from his drums and heads off stage.

Nelson and I help Tim offstage, leaving Jimmy to finish checking the sound with Clint, our audio engineer, who’s at a sound board, which is under a tent about seventy-five feet from the stage. I’m so thankful to have the experienced crew that we have. The mild panic attack that has my heart racing could be a million times worse. Knowing these guys have the experience to handle this kind of shit brings my anxiety down a notch.

If I’m completely honest, I thought our set was fucked when we had to bring in Jimmy last minute. Not because I didn’t have faith in his ability, I know the guy is a talented musician and has played with us during practice and soundchecks. I was worried about throwing someone—anyone—on stage and how that would affect the vibe. Would I be worrying about him the entire forty-five-minute set? Did anyone in our fan base notice us escort Tim off the stage? Should I say something?

All of my worries wash away during our opening song. Jimmy’s huge smile and easy interaction with the crowd are the keys to his amazing stage presence. I’m already impressed, but I could literally kiss him when he walks over to me so we can play and sing side-by-side, just like I would do with Tim.

By the second song, the crowd is jumping and dancing, and the only thing running through my mind is killing this performance. Instead of dwelling on the almost disaster, I use every ounce of anger and frustration I had before our set started and transform it into positive energy. Shit is always going to come up; I’ve gotta be able to roll with the punches.

We’re all buzzing hard-core after our set. The crowd was bigger than I ever expected, and the energy was completely off the charts. I’m humbled by all the people who knew the songs. Our debut album isn’t completed yet, though we do have an EP on streaming services and audio versions of our songs on YouTube that get hundreds of thousands of plays, so I guess it’s not unlikely that people know our stuff. It’s just crazy to me.

When I get to my phone, there’s a message from Liz waiting for me.

I thank my lucky stars again that my girl is independent and strong. I can’t even imagine being at this festival with some of the girls I dated in the past. The clingy ones who would’ve absolutely freaked out if I’d said I had stuff to do with the band. I’m not a complete asshole; in a case like that I would have known beforehand and made sure she had a friend with her to keep her occupied. But I don’t even have to think about it with Liz. She does her own thing and understands that this is my job—and my first priority.

“Austin!” Nelson calls. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” I answer quickly, spinning around as I shove my phone in my pocket.

Within a few strides I’m at his side. Fozzie flanks his other side. Strength in numbers. My stomach is tied up in knots. All the shitty things Tim’s done roll through my head, accumulating like a snowball of anger. Even when it’s justified, it’s not easy to fire someone. I have no clue how people do this for a living.

“You want me to do it?” Nelson asks.

Yes. I think to myself, but I know that I have to be the one that kicks Tim out. Well, Fozzie and me.

“Thanks, man.” I clap him on the back. “We got it.”

“Should’ve fucking done this months ago,” Fozzie mutters. I understand his frustration completely.

“Yup, I agree. But we didn’t and here we are.”

“After you guys tell him, I’ll have Clint take him back to the hotel and get his shit,” Nelson says. “Want me to book him a flight home?”

“Why should we waste that kind of fucking money on that fucker?” Fozzie blurts, kicking a clump of dirt as we stride across Atlanta’s Piedmont Park to the exit where a few guys from our crew took Tim after our set.

“So you want to kick him out of the band and then drive home in the van with him tomorrow? Hungover and coming down from whatever the fuck he was on?”

Thank god for Nelson and his level head. Forget the fact that a same-day or next-day plane ticket is gonna cost a fuck load of money we don’t have to spend.

“Yeah, that’s not an option,” I say. “It sucks, I know, but we chalk it up as a necessary business expense and move on. The price of a plane ticket is worth never having to fuck with him again.”

Kicking Tim out of the band goes a lot better than expected, but I’m chalking that up to the fact that he’s barely coherent and can’t comprehend anything we say. Still, we did it. Will we have to follow up? Yup. But I can wash my hands of him for the time being and enjoy the rest of the day. I only watch for a second as Clint leads Tim out of the exit and leads him down the street.

Jimmy, who disappeared while we were talking to Tim, nudges me with his elbow and hands both Fozzie and me a can of ice-cold beer.

“Thank you so much, man. For everything. You saved us and you fucking killed it today,” I say, taking the beer.

Jimmy’s kindness reminds me again how grateful I am to have the awesome crew of guys we have on our side. A day that could have been a complete and total disaster went off spectacularly. The universe was on our side.

Time to find Liz. I dig out my phone and shoot her a message, asking where she is. She answers with the name of the set she’s watching, so I head over to the stage. When I arrive at the back of the crowd, I scan the area, looking for her.

“Hey, babe!” Liz calls out, running—or rather stumbling—toward me. When she reaches me, she falls onto my chest. “You feel so good.”

“Thanks, love,” I say with a smile. “You okay?”

Something seems off. Liz and I have had drinks together plenty of times, but I’ve never seen her wasted, which makes me wonder how much she’s had to drink today. It seems really out of character that she would have spent the day drinking, but maybe she hasn’t had anything to eat. Or maybe she’s just enjoying herself. This weekend is the first time she’s had two days off in a row since I met her, so I can’t fault her for letting loose. I’m about to down a few beers and enjoy the day, too.

“I’m wonderful. Absolutely wonderful,” she says, rubbing her cheek against my chest. Her hands roam across my back, then slide around to the front, where she cups my junk. I jump, startled. “I want to feel you. Touch me, Austin.”

“I’d love to, but not here.”

“You guys sounded amazing today! So much energy. And the crowd loved you.”

Pride fills my heart hearing her compliment our set while wearing my band’s logo across her chest. As she spins in a circle, the wind catches the hem of her tank-top-turned-dress, giving me a view of her bare thighs. Lust takes over. All I can think of is getting my hands on her again. “You want to head back to the hotel?”

“No!” She grabs my hand and leads me toward another stage. “Let’s go dance!”

I laugh, amused at her sudden turn of priorities, but it’s all good. I’m excited to enjoy the rest of the day with her. I’m ready to let go of all the tension from earlier and let loose with my girl. Or get on her level, since she seems to be pretty loose already.

I’ll never get tired of seeing Liz wild and free. She spreads her arms wide and spins around, a free spirit in an open field, dancing as if there’s no one else around. It reminds me of the night we officially met. When I watched her from the stage dancing and jumping to my music, then singing and dancing around to Intermission. I love seeing the silly, fun, playful side of her. I wish she would spend more time on that side. I’m sure she will once her residency is over. It can’t be easy to let loose when she has to be alert all the time.

After walking around and dancing for a couple hours, I’m dying in the scorching sun and hundred-degree temperature. I’ve gotta find some sort of shelter and air conditioning soon, even if it means leaving the festival and going to a nearby restaurant for a break. Liz hasn’t stopped moving or smiling since I met up with her.

“Hey Liz, let’s take a break. You’ve gotta be dying out here in this heat.”

“I’m not. I’m actually kind of chilly.”

The words signal an immediate red flag in my head, but before I can question it, she moves closer to me and takes my face in her hands. “You wanna know something, Austin?”

“Always.”

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You see me. What’s real. You don’t treat me like crap just because I can’t operate anymore. You know that there’s more to me. That I have worth.”

My heart expands with each word. It’s always awesome to hear someone tell you that they appreciate you and how they make you feel, but it’s never felt as good as when Liz says it. I love everything about her. The more time we spend together, the more time I want to spend together. Every part of my life is better with her in it. Even the bullshit—like today—is more bearable because I know I get to wrap my arms around her.

Looking into her eyes, I realize something is wrong. Her pupils are huge—dilated so much that I realize it couldn’t be alcohol that caused it.

“Babe, are you okay?”

“I feel great. I need more water though. I’m so thirsty.” She’s already gone through two water bottles, which I attributed to the intense heat and staying hydrated. Now I’m thinking it’s something completely different.

“Babe.” I grab her face and hold it so she can focus on me. “Did you take something?”

She bites her lip. “I had a headache. Tim gave me—”

“What did Tim give you?”

She shakes her head out of my grasp. “Ibuprofen.”

“Bullshit!”

She doesn’t look at me.

“You’re a fucking doctor! You fucking knew whatever he gave you wasn’t Ibuprofen.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Tim gave Liz Ecstasy. I’m gonna fucking kill him.

“I’m just trying to fit into your world, Austin. Be one of the party girls you like so much,” she says.

“Fuck that! You know I don’t do that shit. When have you ever seen me do anything other than smoke weed?”

What the hell was she thinking? I’ve never done any kind of hard drugs in front of her. And I’ve never shown any attraction to “party” girls who snort coke and swallow pills. What would possess her take drugs?

Her eyes are glassy and I know nothing I’m saying is registering with her. As if fucking up our first major festival set and kicking our bassist out of the band wasn’t enough stress today, now I have to monitor my girlfriend. If I would have known she was rolling, I could have watched out for her.

“Let’s get back to the hotel. It’s too hot out here and you can’t have any more water.” I reach for her hand.

She shakes her head and pulls away from my grasp. “I don’t want to go. I want to listen to music and dance.”

“I’m not leaving you here by yourself.”

“I’m not by myself. There are thousands of people around.”

“Jesus Christ! Come on, Liz,” I plead. I’m hanging by an invisible rope, severed to a thin string. I honestly can’t handle one more thing today. I’m on the verge of a fucking breakdown.

“You’re such a buzz kill,” she mumbles, but doesn’t resist when I slide my fingers through hers and lead her to the closest exit.

There’s no way I would have left her out here by herself. Not knowing that she was on X. She may be a doctor, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know anything about the effects of that shit on her body. I’ve seen enough people on it to know what to look for and how to watch out for someone.

Once we’re back at the hotel, she starts walking in the opposite direction of the entrance.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“I’m going to get something to eat. Right. Over. There.” She points to the Applebee’s next to our hotel. “Am I allowed to get some food, Dad?”

I glare at her, then start off toward Applebee’s. “Fine.”

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“I thought we were going to get something to eat?”

“I’m going to get something to eat. You can go back to the hotel room.”

I open my mouth to protest, then stop, because I can’t take it anymore. I know I should protest, but I’m pissed and hot and tired, and I can’t deal with this bullshit right now.

“Please don’t drink any more water!” I call to her as she walks away.

“Yes, Dad.” She salutes me with a middle finger and keeps walking. If I weren’t so irritated, I’d laugh.

I wait a minute before following her into Applebee’s and asking the hostess to point me to where she seated Liz. Then I grab a spot at the bar where I can keep an eye on her. I’m trying to be stealthy, but I’m so exhausted, I couldn’t care less if she sees me. At least she’ll know I never left her.

Thankfully, Liz didn’t drink any more water at dinner. She just scarfed down a burger and paid her tab. I follow her out the same way I followed her in—far enough away to give her space, but close enough to keep an eye on her. As she walks, she taps away on her phone. I expect my cell to buzz, but it doesn’t. Instead of stopping when she gets to the door to our room, she passes it by and knocks on Fozzie and Jimmy’s door.

What the fuck?

I’m a second away from going ballistic when I get a text.

I stalk back to my room and slide inside, slamming the door closed behind me. I’m so angry I could punch a hole in the wall—but I don’t want to get fined. This was supposed to be the best day of Drowned World’s career, and it’s turned into absolute shit.

I slide my damp, white T-shirt off and whip it to the ground. Then I unbutton my pants and try to pull them down, but the leather sticks, suctioned against my skin. Any other day, I would take my time, because I know how hard it is to get them off when I’m sweaty. But today, I’m frustrated and angry. I tug and tug, getting more pissed when they don’t give more than a tiny inch each time. I waddle across the carpet to my duffel bag. I know I have baby powder in there, which will absorb some of the moisture and allow them to come down easier.

Once my pants are off, I leave them in a heap on the floor and enter the bathroom. A long, hot shower will wash away the bad vibes of the day.

After my shower, I climb into bed and grab my phone, hoping to see a message from Liz.

Nothing.

Instead of get worked up again, I check our social media accounts and reply to some of the photos and videos fans posted from our set at the festival. Watching the videos gives me validation that we really did kick ass today, despite all the drama with Tim. If you didn’t know there were issues going on behind the scenes, you’d never be able to tell. Jimmy fit so well; I’m not sure why we didn’t fire Tim sooner and get him up there before any of this went down.

I set my phone down on my stomach and look up to the ceiling. I take full responsibility. I need to be stronger when making the hard choices before it leads to bigger problems.

Just as I’m about to go over all the bad decisions I’ve made over the last five years of my life, my phone buzzes.

The tension I washed away in the shower comes right back to my neck and shoulders. I lean back into my pillow and groan in frustration.

Another message pops up as I’m typing.

I get up and unlock the door, then return to bed. Fozzie and Jimmy slip in a few minutes later. Neither one says anything. Jimmy goes straight for the couch and collapses in a heap, while Fozzie shuffles to my bed.

“You know she’s fucking tripping on ecstasy, right?” I ask him.

“Yup.” He climbs into bed next to me and pulls the covers up.

“Is she okay?”

“Yup.” He rolls onto his side and I realize by his long, deep breaths that “yup” is the last word I’m getting from him tonight.

We’ve all had a long, stressful day, so I can’t blame him—or be annoyed. I should have thanked him for letting Liz stay in their room when I know they’re just as exhausted as I am. My head is all over the place. Stress meltdowns will do that to a person.

Liz finally creeps into our room at 4:17 a.m. I know because I could barely sleep. I think I got an hour total, maybe two. Between Liz not being next to me, Jimmy snoring louder than an English bulldog, Fozzie hogging the comforter, and all the other thoughts racing through my head, it was impossible to get my mind to settle down.

“Hey,” I call out in the darkness when the flashlight on her phone illuminates up the floor.

She doesn’t answer—or even acknowledge me—just follows the beam to her duffle bag. I watch her silhouette drop to her knees and begin shoving clothes into her bag.

“Liz, please.” I spring out of bed and kneel next to her. Anger radiates from her every pore, but we need to talk, so I set my hand on her forearm. “Can we please talk this out?”

She bats my hand away. “I don’t feel like talking right now.”

She stands up and rushes to the bathroom, leaving me on the floor in confusion. I’m not letting her walk away without talking to me. I need to know what the hell was going through her head.

“Well, relationships aren’t a one-way street, and I think we should talk about it.” I follow her to the bathroom and lean against the door frame, watching as she grabs the tiny bottles of face and hair products and makeup off the sink and drops them into a pink-and-black leopard-print bag. “I don’t understand why you’d take that shit. You of all people know how much it fucks up your head. Help me understand.”

“Do you really want me to explain or do you want to keep chastising me for taking drugs? Wasn’t yesterday’s berating enough?”

Jesus.

It’s not like I was an asshole to her yesterday. Sure, I was more pissed than I normally would have been because of how stressed I was, but I didn’t ‘berate’ her. “Look, I’m sorry I was frustrated. Tim was so fucking high he couldn’t even hold his guitar. If Jimmy hadn’t been able to play bass for us, we would’ve had to cancel our set, right then and there, in front of all those people. I had to kick Tim out of the fucking band. I was devastated, Liz. I didn’t know what we were going to do—I still don’t. And then I got to you—the person I can count on—and you were out of your fucking mind.”

Rehashing yesterday’s events sparks the anger and frustration. I still have no clue what’s going on and how we’re going to move forward as a band. How could I have made such a huge mistake not firing Tim before it even got to this point?

Liz snorts, taking me out of my divergent train of thought and bringing me back to the present. “I get it now. This isn’t about me taking drugs at all, is it? This is really about you being pissed at Tim and taking it out on me. Gotcha!”

She elbows me out of the way as she exits the bathroom. Then she places her toiletry bag into her duffel and zips it up.

I spin around and follow her. “No, this not about me being pissed at Tim. It’s about how irresponsible and bratty you were yesterday. I was stressed and frustrated and your behavior sure didn’t help, Liz.”

“Irresponsible and bratty.” She repeats with a faint laugh. “Good to know how you feel about me. I’m done letting other people tell me how I should act and what I should do. I thought you, out of all people, would let me enjoy the moment. I thought you’d laugh and dance and let me be me.”

“Bullshit! That wasn’t you.” I roll my eyes. She’s not going to spin this. “You’re going to stand here and tell me you thought I’d be okay watching you fuck your head up with chemicals? If you wanted to get out of your mind, you should have come to me and we could’ve fucking smoked weed together. But for you take a pill you don’t know from a dude you barely know? No, I’m not gonna fucking sit by and act like I’m cool with that.”

She stands up and looks me in the eye for the first time this morning. Despite the anger in her voice, she looks like she’s about to cry. “You want to know the reason I took it, Austin?”

“Yes.”

“Because I have been in a downward spiral of despair since my car accident. I am no longer a Surgical Critical Care fellow. I am no longer in my surgical residency. All I am is a complete and total failure.”

Fuck.

“Liz, I—” I try to console her, but she’s not having it.

She raises her finger to my lips and shakes her head. “Oh, no! You asked me why I took that pill and I’m telling you.” Then she continues, steamrolling me with every word. “I came here excited to support you and cheer you on and enjoy this weekend with you. So when Tim offered me that pill, I thought about it as a medical professional for a split second, then I bit it in half and swallowed one of the pieces because it seemed like the easiest way to get out of my head for a few hours.” She lifts her duffle bag over her shoulder.

“I get it. I don’t agree with it, but I get it,” I say, trying to diffuse the situation. “I’m sorry I—”

“I don’t want to hear it right now, Austin. You said you wanted to talk. You asked why I took that pill, I told you. Now please let me have some space.”

“You can leave your stuff in here, ya know. We’re leaving as soon as everyone gets up.”

“I’m going to the airport.”

“What? Liz, come on!”

She tugs the door and exits without looking back.

What the fuck? I grab a pair of jeans and step into the legs, hopping from foot to foot as I pull them on, while trying to get to the door.

I follow her out the door in my bare feet. She doesn’t look back as she glides over the sidewalk and into the parking lot where a yellow cab waits at the curb, engine running. The driver scrambles out of his car when she wheels her bag to the back of the car. He lifts it easily into the trunk.

I’m out of breath when I catch up to her. “Liz, please stay. Please—”

“The last thing I want is to be crammed into a van with you and your bandmates right now. Give me some space, okay?”

“Are you sure you’re okay to travel alone? Do you—”

“I’m an independent woman. I think I can handle it.”

“I mean, are you feeling okay? You might have some withdrawals or something.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.” I sigh, feeling defeated. “I guess I’ll talk to you when we get home.”

She nods and ducks into the cab. No kiss. No hug.

I watch the cab pull away from the curb, hoping she’ll look out the window and acknowledge me. I need the peace of mind. She doesn’t even look up. I watch until the car turns onto the main road and drives out of sight. The farther it moves away, the further my heart drops.

Normally, all of the ways I could have handled the conversation differently would be racing through my head.

But that’s not happening right now.

My stress level is at maximum capacity. My band is falling apart because I couldn’t make a decision that needed to be made before we even came to this festival. I should have kicked Tim out of the band months ago.

The career I worked for my entire life is falling apart, and I just fucked things up with the girl of my dreams.