Sitting silently in a hard, cold plastic chair, I tried to pretend I was invisible.

It was easy enough to do. The other four people waiting in the hospital hallway were making enough of a commotion. It was no wonder I was overlooked.

"…don't fucking care about your rules!"

"We're the closest thing to family he's got."

"Please, just tell us if he's going to be okay or not. Just tell us that."

Cameron and the twins were alternatively pleading with and yelling at a man in a long white coat. A doctor.

August's doctor.

Tears prickled the back of my eyes. I let a few fall, not trying to keep them in, just brushing them away with my sleeve.

They weren't telling us anything. We weren't August's family. We'd been waiting for hours and we still didn't know anything.

"Stop shouting at the man." Noah's quiet voice interrupted the others. "He's just doing his job."

The lead singer leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. I thought he might scowl at his friends. Instead, he only looked exhausted, tired lines around sad, dark eyes.

"I'll stop shouting when he tells us what the fuck is going on," Cameron growled.

"I'm sorry." The doctor's tone was brisk yet polite. I was sure he'd had this conversation with hundreds of people. "I can only speak to the patient's next of kin."

Cameron jutted his chin out stubbornly.

"We're his family."

Before he could continue arguing, a nurse rushed down the hallway. She spoke hushed into the doctor's ear. He nodded.

"Good news," he told us in a slightly relieved tone. "The patient is awake. He said you're all his next of kin. He's asking to see you."

"Fucking finally," Damon muttered.

"Before you go in…" the doctor hesitated. "You should probably know the cause of his fall."

"Moron probably worked himself too hard," Cameron said. "He doesn't know when to quit."

"No."

The doctor looked each of them in the eye. He seemed to be bracing himself. I stayed sitting in my chair.

"It was a drug overdose."

Pure silence filled the hallway. I examined the expression on each band member's face. Shock, surprise, disbelief.

I kept my face blank.

Cameron barked out a laugh.

"Are you fucking with us?"

The doctor shook his head sadly.

"I know this sometimes comes as a surprise to friends and family. Often, there are no signs."

Ian glared.

"August isn't a drug addict."

"We found large doses of opioids in his bloodstream. Possibly Oxycodone. Enough to make him collapse. Enough to stop his breathing."

The others stared at each other, questions in their eyes. Did any of them know? Had any of them guessed?

"Fuck this shit," Cameron grunted, shouldering past the doctor. "I'm going to see him."

The band members followed the nurse to August's room. I trailed behind them. Not a single one of them seemed to notice I was there. I stayed back, hovering in the doorway as they crowded around the bedside.

Peeking in, I saw August sitting up in bed. A plastic tube connected a bag of solution to the back of his hand. His hair was limp and falling around his face. A small bandage covered a patch of his forehead near his hairline. Dark purple bruises under his eyes showed his exhaustion.

Still, his lips curved into a slight smile as he greeted his friends.

"I'm sorry I scared you," were the first words out of his mouth.

"What the hell, August?" Cameron immediately blurted. "You're a fucking drug addict now?"

"I had a sore shoulder," he said reasonably. "I took something from one of the crew members. I had no idea it would affect me this much."

"You could have died." Ian sounded wounded, as if he were the one sitting in the hospital bed, not August. "How could you have been so irresponsible? That's not like you at all."

"I'm sorry," was all he said. He turned to Noah. "What happened with the rest of the show?"

"Fuck the tour," Noah said bluntly. "You focus on getting better."

"The doctor said I can leave tonight. No long term effects." He pointed to the bandage on his forehead. "Just a little bump."

"Better make sure there's no brain damage," Cameron said, forcing a grin. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

August returned Cameron's rude one-finger salute. "One too many."

The twins laughed. Noah's lips twitched into a relieved smile. August reclined back, looking peaceful.

I stepped into the room.

"This wasn't the first time."

My words echoed loudly in the hospital room. All eyes were on me. The others frowned, confused. The look on August's face was one of trepidation.

He knew what I was going to say.

He didn't want me to say it.

Too bad. After what I'd figured out, I couldn't keep quiet.

"How long has this been going on?" I kept my voice cool and calm, no hint of the primal scream waiting for its chance to be let out.

August didn't say a thing.

Cameron eyed me. "What are you talking about?"

August kept his gaze steady, looking me straight in the eye, not avoiding our staring contest. I could see him thinking. I could see the lie about to make its way past his lips.

"How long, August?" I repeated. "How long have you been taking drugs?"

He cast his eyes down, breaking our stare. His shoulders slumped and tensed at the same time, bracing himself.

"A year," he said quietly. "Maybe more."

Eerie silence filled the room. The kind of silence that preceded a thunderclap, hairs on the back of the neck standing up in anticipation.

Pandemonium broke loose. Every band member spoke at once, voices raised, incredulous and outraged by turns.

I hung back, watching the fall out.

The minute I'd seen August collapse, falling to the stage, hitting his head with a sickening crack, I'd known.

His sore shoulder. Taking something from the roadies and telling me it was just aspirin. I chided myself for not seeing it before.

But how could I have ever guessed? August, a drug addict? The idea was laughable. He was so put together. Mature. Responsible.

He was August Summers.

He was the man I'd come to lo—

My heart squeezed in my chest.

— The man I'd come to care about.

And he'd been lying to me the entire time. Lying to his closest friends. Lying to everyone.

Ian turned to me.

"How did you know?"

I wasn't unaware of the accusation in his tone.

"I've seen it before," I said. "Asking me for help with his pained shoulder. His glazed eyes. Distant. Unfocused. Just like they were on stage before he collapsed. I've seen his eyes like that before."

Cameron snarled at me.

"You knew this whole time and you didn't say anything?" he seethed. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I didn't know," I insisted. "I just figured it out."

"You said you helped him with his shoulder." Ian frowned. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"He—" I flicked my gaze to August. "—He asked me to keep it from you. He didn't want you to worry."

"Why the hell would you keep a secret like that?" Cameron asked. "Don't you think we had a right to know our friend was hurting?"

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. Cameron was right. I should have told someone. This whole thing could have been avoided.

"He made me promise."

"You don't go making stupid promises like that when someone's in trouble!" Cameron exploded.

"Cam." Damon barked. "Lay off."

Cameron turned murderous eyes to Damon, opening his mouth to speak. Damon held up his hand, cutting him off. He turned to me, eyes mournful, but full of understanding.

"We all know what it's like to keep secrets we shouldn't," Damon said, speaking to the others.

They fell silent, absorbing his words. August had been sitting quietly this whole time. Noah broke the silence.

"How often?" he asked.

"I'm not an addict," August replied immediately.

"How. Often?"

"Only once in a while. My shoulder's always been a bit strained since the car accident. Touring and performing every night just makes it a bit worse. It's not a big deal. It's like taking a Tylenol or something."

"Are you fucking kidding?" Cameron said. "You're abusing drugs!"

"Like you can talk," August finally snapped. "We all know what goes on at your parties."

"For fun!" Cameron shouted back. "Like having a drink. No one at my parties get so fucked up they pass out and almost die."

"Cameron." Noah spoke quietly. "Don't yell."

"Yelling's the only way to get through his stubborn head."

"It's not a big deal," August said.

"You not seeing why it's a big deal is a big deal," Ian insisted.

"I'll stop," August said.

The others stared at him. A small glimmer of hope lit up Ian's eyes. Some of the anger left Cameron's expression, his face softening.

"It's not that easy," Noah said doubtfully.

"Sure it is," August said easily. "I only did it once in a while. I told you. I'm not addicted. I'll stick to Tylenol 3 or whatever. Something legal. I'll only take what the doctor tells me to." He cracked a small smile. "No more scoring from roadies."

We all knew Noah was right. It was never that easy. But we all wanted to believe it. We wanted to believe August when he said it wasn't a problem. We wanted to believe everything would go back to normal.

"This still doesn't make up for the fact that you lied to us," Cameron warned.

"I'm sorry," August said, his tone earnest, sincere. "I should have told you guys. I really didn't think it was that big of a deal."

"What about your shoulder?" Damon asked. "If you're in pain, how can you play? I hate to say it, but should we start considering a backup plan?"

Panic hit August's eyes.

"It's fine," he said quickly. "I'll adjust. I'm sure whatever the doctor gives me will help. I can start getting massages, resting more during our breaks. Taking it easy like you guys always say I should."

"Taking it easy? I never thought I'd hear those words from August Summers. Now I know you must be on drugs," Cameron drawled.

August and Ian laughed. Noah's lips tilted upward.

Concerned still lined Damon's brow. He wasn't as convinced.

But August had promised.

It wouldn't be easy, but I'd be there for him.

As upset as I was that he'd lied, I wanted to help in any way I could. August had been helping me, supporting me, encouraging me.

Now it was my turn to support him.