When I come-to, I find out I’m in the Paris Hospital Saint-Louis. Worse, I discover that I’ve been sedated here for nearly a day and a half. The blow to my head had been a concussion—a grave worry, said my grandmother who was seated at my bedside when my eyes had first opened. I’d been kept under so I wouldn’t get myself worked up while the swelling went down.

And, that’s because apparently there were tons of reasons for me to be worked up.

Like: Robin, being upset.

Like: Robin’s father, being twice as upset.

Like: Me, personally, being upset because the guy nearly beat the shit out of me. And my grandmother was also upset because I’d let him beat the shit out of me without fighting back. Which, in turn, has made all my family and best friends…also very upset.

The most upsetting thing of all? The main reason everyone left me here to sleep it off and rest while in a drug induced stupor for way, too long?

Because there’s one more reason for me to be upset: Robin and Sage have left Paris with their father. As in, they’ve gone back to the states!

My grandmother has just whispered to me that we’ve told the press the reason Robin has not been by my bedside, is because she’s left get her father settled into the VA hospital in New York City right away. I’m to go with it. Tell everyone the bump on the head and the bruises on my face happened when I got tangled up in some stage cables while rehearsing and I bashed my head onto an amp. A plausible story, to be sure—for both Robin and I, that leaves her father off the nightly news feeds.

One I’m sure no one will question, either, because the whole world has been waiting for Robin’s father to return home. Of course people will think that Robin will want to be with her father, to help get him well—and of course I’m the dumb ass who falls into—amps.

God help us all with this last round of lies.

When my eyes can focus and the sleep drugs are wearing off more, I sit up some and look around. There seems to be a crush of people—paparazzi mostly, and my bodyguards who look really cranky—are all stuffed in the hallway. I work to clear the cobwebs from my head—and my gaze travels to my best friends gathered around the bed.

I can tell form the expressions in Adam, Hunter’s and most of all Vere’s faces, even without asking, that they’re as broken hearted as I am about Robin’s sudden exit.

Apparently they’d boarded a plane to New York only an hour ago. My grandmother’s leaning in, voice full of pity as she’s whispering some junk about how: It’s all worked out for the best. That it was right and time for them to go…that it’s possible this surprise mess has actually made things easier.

I don’t disagree. I don’t speak or make one sound. That’s because I’m locking down my heart again. Shoveling the pain into one pile how it was before it exploded out of me as I hit the ground back in that hotel.

I tell myself I’m relieved that the way it all played out so fast.

This all means I didn’t have to tell her goodbye. I’d been trying to come up for just the right things to say to her for days—but nothing had sounded right—nothing…

My grandmother’s words reach me again. “It’s easiest. It’s for the best…it’s time for her to go. You’ll see her eventually,” she adds. “Royce, honey…say something. Are you okay?” She zooms her chair back a little and glances at my bandmates. “Maybe he’s not ready to travel to Berlin. They said you’d be rested, darling. Are you not—rested?”

“No. I am. Sorry. Just trying to get my bearings, here. I feel fine, Grandmother. Foggy-headed but fine.” Somehow, I muster up a decent masked expression—and I staple it on while I manage to smile at everyone else and whisper out, “We did it, guys. Goal accomplished saving the girl, and…now….onward, right?” I force out a small smile, while staring down at my blanket so I don’t have to meet their gazes. “And yes, Gran is right. It’s easiest, it’s for the best and it was time.” I reach over and pick up my grandmother’s hand and give it a squeeze as she zooms back to my side. “Don’t worry, it’s weird as hell what all went down, but it was bound to be weird, right? The whole thing was…weird.” She nods, smiling sadly as I forge ahead with more lies, “We did the right thing and Robin’s father should have punched me how he did—because it’s what I would have done if some asshole rockstar was found sleeping with my daughter in a Paris hotel—so we all need to forgive the guy for losing it.”

“We already have. He did apologize before he left, and he means to call you next week,” Uncle Gregory says.

“Good to know.” I make the smile I’m faking go wider, but suddenly my head is spinning and I swear to God, I feel like crying for some damn reason—or hell, fine. I know the reason. I need to lie to all of them, but i don’t need to lie to myself anymore, right?

Quickly, I swallow that shit down and sit up even more, making a show of flinging off the covers like I’m all full of energy, adding, “Did I hear we’re going straight from here to Berlin? There’s a jet waiting?”

Hunter nods as does Vere. “Dude, if you’re up to it. This is as close to the wire we’ve ever been before a concert. We could cancel, but the damn stadium is seating right now. Our opening band is going to play some extra songs to stretch out the time, and we’re going to pass out some cool swag as well to distract people should we have a delay going through customs, but if we leave now, and you’re up to it, we can pull it off.”

I try to breathe, but it hurts like hell so I stop mid breath, and say tightly, “I’m up to it. I think the faster we leave Paris the better. Crazy memories…and shit,” I look at the doctor who’d just stepped in the room. “If I promise I not to jump up and down while playing the guitar tonight, will you let me out of here?”

The doctor, who turns out to be American, nods and says, “You will not jump. You will not do the crowd surfing thing, and you will not even dance. Should you try, you’ll wind up with a massive headache.”

“Of course not. Dude. I never dance.”

Luckily everyone laughs, and they all seem to have bought into my act. The smiles of my friends go from stiff to easy. The only one who is not buying my bullshit is Vere…but she won’t out me. As her wide brown eyes meet mine I get that she knows I’m not okay—deeply not okay—but what is wrong inside of me has got nothing at all to do with the lump on my head, and everything to do with the irreparable scars that are forming all over my heart.

Luckily, Vere, like me…is a practical person. She knows there’s nothing I, or any of them, can give me to fix what’s truly hurting. Besides, I already know this feeling because it’s very similar to how I felt when my mom passed away. Which means I also know how to deal with it.

Ignore it, dive into work, and give it time.

Hunter’s talking, and I realize I can’t hear his voice as another wave of WTF-is-this-my-life? Or am I in hell right now? devastation washes over me. But I read his lips I nod like I’m hearing every word.

But of course I’m not. I’m counting up hours and imagining Robin stepping off the plane she’s on right now. She should be doing that at about the same time we are to arrive in Berlin. I picture myself hitting the stage just as she’s going to be walking into the amazing apartment my grandmother had set up for us to live in after the tour. She will be showing her Dad the studio space I’d had built for her. Knowing her how I do, I can imagine she’s sad about this, too. Her smiles will be as fake as mine are right now—

We both were always so good at that…

We…us…the two things Robin and I are not going to be anymore…

By the time I’ll be singing our new single to our fans in Berlin, and she will be calling in Chinese food from the place I’d showed her on the corner. Or pointing out the guest quarters to her father, then helping Sage and her father unpack suitcases.

We will do encores and pile into the limo so we can unpack into the Berlin Orb hotel, and Sage will be in his room setting up the video games probably. Robin’s father will be exhausted and head to his room, and Robin will be in her bed alone, no hoodie necessary, of course. And I won’t have to drag any couch cushions onto my bed…

I stop thinking about that—her—all of it then, because my thoughts had suddenly grown too dark. Too terrible. Selfish again. Because…that’s me.

The lump on the back of my head has started throbbing, and what I think is a big black eye that I hadn’t even noticed until now, starts to ache. I don’t complain or ask if there’s any pain medicines I could ramp up on, either. I don’t even let myself wince because that would get me sympathy when I don’t deserve any. Because every single lingering thread of thought I’d just let drift through my mind might have been me, wishing that Robin’s father had not been found quite yet…

Which makes every punch that man hit me with seem right.

Which makes me more of a devil than Robin’s father ever imagined.

I vow to not think about Robin again. Like when my mom passed, I have to acknowledge that this is a very final thing. There is no going back—the plan was executed and we only need to tie up the loose ends as quickly as possible.

I check the time on my phone and stand, “It’s a 1.5 hour flight. If we head out now, we won’t even be late.”

Hunter smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s the spirit, Dude. Stylists are going to fly with us. We’re going to exit the plane and go directly to stage.”

“Cool. Awesome.”

As if on cue, Clara and her mother arrive in a flurry, bearing bagged outfits for everyone to put on and when Clara hands me mine, instead of glaring at her, how I’ve done ever since the awards show, I do what I’ve never done.

I smile at her. Then, I say, “Thanks, Clara.”

First she blinks like she’s shocked that I’ve spoken to her. Then, I see her wheels turning as she analyzes my face saying, finally, “Sure. How’s the head injury? Looks bad.” She’s staring, too hard.

“Painful.”

“Poor you. I’ll have to put extra makeup on that bruising.” She points at my eye.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” I add, “I also hope it’s not too terrible looking.”

“Actually.” When she beams back at me, I know I’ve got her on the hook. “The black eye makes your silver eye-color even more beautiful. Only you, Royce, only you could pull that off, and you should just know, that it also, totally, makes you look absolutely, way-way, and completely sexier,”

My heart shifts and drops—and every injury I have hurts more because it’s like my whole damn body knows this is so very wrong to talk with Clara like this. But, I force my smile to go bigger and add in a little wink for Clara, using the good eye. “Thanks. That’s really totally absolutely, sweet of you to say.” And then because Vere’s glaring at me, I add, “Maybe, because Robin had to go back to NYC so fast, and I won’t have anyone to help me out…maybe later, after the show… you can help me ice…stuff.” I force a grin.

When she stutters, then giggle-answers, “S-sure. Yes. I’d love to,” before dashing away doing a fluttery-eye hair flip thing that turns my stomach, I feel so queasy that I actually have to sit back down on my bed for a second.

Vere, glaring bullets—knives—ice, stalks over to me and whispers, “Royce. Robin begged us. Not Clara. I told you that. Robin’s request is that you find someone—something real. It doesn’t have to be so fast, and it doesn’t need to start happening today.”

“Yes. It does.”

“Not Clara. It’s going to hurt Robin, you know it will,” she insists.

“Vere, it’s going to hurt all of us, and you also know how stubborn Robin is. Clara will send the clearest message to Robin that things are truly over, and show her that the world has—hell that I have—flipped back to the way it was before she and I had met. I’m still an asshole, and maybe Robin should remember that sooner than later. And…I choose Clara because—shit.” My eyes flash to hers and hold her gaze, as my voice cracks. “You know why. After Robin…after my mom…” I put a hand over the leaden-thumping that’s breaking down what’s left of my heart inside my chest. “I’m fucking done with real. Done. I can’t—won’t—ever seek out anything real again because my heart can’t take it. Clara is perfect, because she won’t even care when I dump her.”

Vere’s shaking her head, and her damn, big-brown eyes have flooded with what looks like tears. “I’m going to blame this temporary bout of insanity on your head injury.”

“It’s for Robin. I don’t want her just thinking about me…and wondering.” I reach up and touch the parts under my eye that are swollen and puffy. Then I press them until they hurt more, because the pain, somehow is keeping me focused into this room and away from where I want to be right now. The pain…it’s keeping me alive. “I’m pulling off the Band-Aid, Vere. I’m not going to communicate with Robin after this. It’s the best, fastest way for all of us to cross back into our normal lives. Trust me on this. Okay?”

She doesn’t answer. Just turns and stalks away.