Playing Better Days on a famous sound stage, even at rehearsal, is the kind of thing that should light me up inside. I don't hold back, not at rehearsals, not on stage, not offstage. Not anywhere.

But right now…

Muscle memory is the only thing that gets me through the song. My fingers know the way around my guitar better than they know anything. This is what I'm good at.

This is where I belong.

Even Violet thinks so.

I should be happy about this opportunity. I should at least be taking it in. My eyes are clear. I can see everything. I can hear every note from my guitar, from Mal's guitar, from Kit's bass, from Joel's drum kit. I can hear every bit of my brother's breathy voice.

I can hear the orders from the crew and from Mal, and I can even sense the continuing frost between Joel and Mal—the two of them hold grudges better than anyone in the universe.

It's all here. It's all happening around me. But I'm not here. I'm off some other place, stuck in how badly I fucked everything up again.

Mal's New York fuck buddy is sitting in the front row, half watching our rehearsal, half looking at her phone. She's waiting for him. She's at his beck and call.

It's the same with all his fuck buddies in every city. They jump to meet his terms. They jump to do what he wants to do, wherever he is, whenever he wants to be there.

No doubt he makes it up to them with his hands, mouth, or cock, but I'm not entertaining those thoughts.

They really are sidekicks. He cares about them, yeah, but he always makes it clear it's only when things are convenient for him.

If that's what I was doing to Violet, she was right to let me walk away.

Fuck, I'm an asshole.

It's possible she's better off without me. But there's no way in hell I'm better off without her.

* * *

All day, I stay off some other place. We finish rehearsal, wait around in separate rooms, and perform for a live studio audience. I can see people cheering and clapping and screaming out our lyrics, but it doesn't stir me the way it usually does.

After we finish, a production assistant shepherds us to a dressing room. We're to wait until the producers look over the footage to make sure it's usable.

The room is an average dressing room. It's got a vanity, four hair and makeup chairs, and a table piled with snacks and beverages. It's a nice size but it's far too small for the hostility between Mal and Joel.

Joel grabs a bottle of water and rubs his temples. Another hangover. You'd think he'd know his limits by now.

Most days, I'd throw out a joke about it. Right now, it doesn't feel worth the effort.

Joel takes a seat in one of the makeup chairs. Kit does the same, only he directs his attention to his e-reader.

Mal reaches for the door. "I'm gonna grab Stacey."

Joel's eyes narrow. He shakes it off. "Valentine with your fuck buddy?"

Mal shakes his head.

Joel rubs his temples. "Where is Valentine?" He looks to me. "Strong, don't fucking tell me she's not here."

I say nothing.

Joel stares daggers at Mal. "Oh, was she getting in the way, too?"

"Violet is like a sister to me," Mal says.

"Never see your sister around. That's not helping your case," Joel says.

"Don't need you falling on this sword for me," Kit mutters.

"Yeah, well I'm not doing shit for you, Rhythmic One. This is fucking personal." Joel looks at me. "You gonna fucking say anything?"

"You're doing a bang-up job speaking for me." My shoulders clench up, but this isn't Joel's fault. Or Mal's fault. It's my fault. Should say as much. "Mal left it up to me. I choose to be here."

Joel's brow screws with confusion.

"Mal didn't do shit. This was all me," I say. "I fucked everything up."

"Why the fuck would you choose this over the woman you've been pining over for the last two years?" Joel asks.

Because music is all I'm good at. Music is what makes me happy. Music is everything.

It feels like nothing right now.

Feels empty if I can't share it with Violet.

Despite my insistence Mal isn't at fault, Joel continues staring daggers at my brother. Mal stares back with the same don't fuck with me attitude.

Might not know how to fix shit with Violet, but I can do something to fix this.

"Enough of this fucking animosity," I say. "Joel, Kit, you're family as much as Mal is. I trust both of you with my life. Let's stop this bullshit."

Joel and Mal hold their stares.

Kit pushes himself up from his chair. He looks at Mal. "I get why you don't trust me. Don't blame you for that. But fuck you for sneaking around behind my back."

Mal nods. "You're right. Don't have a good excuse. I'm sorry."

"Good," Kit says.

"It was the ex-manager. Shouldn't have jumped to conclusions about you, Kit. I know you wouldn't fuck us over." He offers Kit his hand.

Kit shakes.

Like that, they're cool.

Joel looks between them. "That's it?"

Kit nods. "This is where I want to be. If I wanted to be somewhere else, I'd leave."

Joel tosses his empty water bottle in the trash and grabs another. Discomfort spreads over his face as he paces. He looks at Mal. "Democracy from now on. We discuss everything. If we can't agree, we vote."

"What breaks ties?" Mal asks.

"Flip a coin," Joel says.

Mal nods.

They shake.

This feels way too fucking easy, but it's not like they're best friends now. They're ready to work together again. They're ready to occupy the same space.

That's the best it's going to get for a while.

Joel chugs his new water bottle and tosses it in the trash. He turns to me. "You got a plan for fixing shit with Valentine?"

"Not yet," I say.

Joel's brow furrows. "That girl is fucking mad about you. You'd have to try to fuck it up."

Kit nods. "She lights up around you."

It's not like I threw her away. I want Violet around, but I keep fucking it up.

"What did she say?" Joel asks.

A lot, but one thing stands out. "She wants to come first."

Joel cocks a brow. "Ethan, don't tell me you're too fast on the trigger."

I have to laugh. It's the first thing I've felt since I walked out of Violet's door. It's another thing I want to share with her. She'd crack up over the bad joke.

"No, I always get her off first," I say.

"Good man." Joel laughs.

"She wants to be a priority," I say.

Joel's brow screws. "Isn't she?"

"Evidence speaks for itself," Kit says. "He chose this over her. Bet it's not the first time he chose the band over her."

Joel jumps in. "Ethan, you're an amazing guitarist. As good as Drew—but don't tell him I said that. And you've got more stage presence than he does. You belong here, with the band, but you don't have to throw away everything else. We made shit work with Kit's recovery. We'll make shit work so you and Violet can last. All due respect, but you're a miserable little shit when she's not around. You act all happy, but it drops fast and you don't seem to get much out of drinking or sleeping with groupies."

"Still Joel's favorite pastimes," Kit teases.

Joel flips him off playfully.

Kit returns the gesture.

My shoulders relax as I sigh. Shit is still fucked up with Violet, but this is getting back to normal.

The band really is going to be okay.

"The woman spent the last week with the three of us on a tiny bus because she wants to be with you. She gave up her break to be with you," Joel says. "Back when you two were together, she was always around. She didn't miss a single fucking show. Not one."

He's right. Fuck… I've been making Violet a priority, but only when it works for me. Chose music over her the first time we broke up.

Did it again today.

I get that she doesn't want to feel like one of Mal's fuck buddies, like I expect her to say how high when I ask her to jump.

"What the fuck are you doing to be with her?" he asks.

Nothing. Fuck. "She's taking a job in Orange County."

Joel throws his arms into the air in a damn, this man is helpless gesture.

"She's meeting you halfway," Kit says. "You need to do the same. You need to prove you'll make her a priority."

He's right.

They're all right.

Violet's always been there for me. Always.

If I really want her to be mine forever, I have to prove I can do the same.

The how is the tricky part.

But— "I have an idea. I'll need your help. All three of you."

In unison, the three of them say, "I'm in."

Sometimes, it's not so bad having three older brothers.