The other guys were in the hotel room with August, chilling after the concert. We didn't have to leave until the next morning. They'd taken the time to shower and change. Performing was a workout.

Damon and I stood in the hallway outside the suite.

"What do we tell them?" I asked softly. "Do we just come out and say it?"

"We should give him a chance to tell us himself," Damon said.

"Do you think he will?"

Damon pressed his lips together, no doubt thinking of all the other times August had lied.

"Do you know what happens when people mix alcohol with opioids like Oxycodone?" he asked. "I looked it up."

"No. What are you saying?"

"We all thought August was a lightweight and got drunk easily. But maybe he was—" Damon stopped, not wanting to admit it.

"You think… all those times, he was taking drugs?" I asked slowly. "You think the drugs and alcohol mixed and messed him up?"

"Maybe. It would explain a lot." Damon growled, running his fingers through his hair, messing up the strands. "This fucking sucks. Why do we have to be the bad guys?"

My stomach roiled, distressed. It felt like a vice was squeezing my chest.

"If we don't say anything, and he has another overdose…."

Damon nodded miserably.

"I know." He blew out a breath. "Okay. Let's do this."

The two of us walked in. Ian glanced over. He raised an eyebrow.

"Someone die?" he asked. "You look so foreboding."

I looked to August. He wouldn't meet my eyes. I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders.

"August. Is there something you want to tell us?"

Cameron, Noah, and Ian looked between the two of us. August slowly turned his head, locking eyes with me. His were clearer now, and still that vibrant blue. The vice around my heart gripped tight, stealing my breath.

I didn't want to do this. I wanted everything to be back to normal. I wanted everything to be okay.

But it wasn't. And I couldn't pretend otherwise.

"If you don't tell them, I will," I said softly.

A slow, dawning horror spread across Ian's face as he and Damon stared at each other, like they were communicating without words.

Noah tilted his head, confused.

"What the hell is going on?" Cameron asked, sitting up straight.

August stayed silent.

I steeled myself.

"August took drugs tonight."

This time, there were no protests, no shouting. The band members stared at August, waiting for him to confirm or deny it. He didn't make them wait.

"I did," he said quietly.

"Fuck… August…" Cameron sounded dismayed, not shouting like he had in the hospital, all the fight gone out of him. "You promised."

"I tried," he said. He looked each band member in the eye, earnest and not at all repentant. "I tried to go without. And you all saw what happened. You heard me out there tonight."

The twins eyed each other. Cameron ran his hands through his hair, revealing sad, dark blue eyes. Noah cast his gaze down, not meeting August's.

We all knew what he was talking about.

Perfect August Summers wasn't so perfect any more.

And to him, that was intolerable.

"You were fine tonight," Cameron said. "No one noticed."

"You noticed," he accused.

"The audience didn't notice. The opening acts didn't notice. You were fine," Damon stressed.

"Fine isn't good enough," he said stubbornly.

The guys looked at each other helplessly.

"This doesn't have to be a big deal," August continued when no one spoke. "It's not like I'm snorting coke or shooting up heroin."

Cameron and Noah shared a glance. They looked hesitant to say anything. Ian's expression was pained.

Damon growled in frustration.

"You're abusing drugs," he said. "It doesn't matter what kind."

"I'm not an addict."

"Right. So you can stop any time you want to. That's what they all say."

"I could," August agreed. "But I won't."

Damon stared him down. August met his gaze head on, not blinking.

"So you're going to keep taking drugs?" Damon asked. "You're not going to stop?"

"No."

"Then you're out."

August froze.

"What—!" Cameron exploded, jumping from the sofa, cushions falling to the floor.

"I'm not going to sit here and watch you do this to yourself," Damon spoke to August alone. "Someday you're going to kill yourself or push yourself too hard, ruin your shoulder and never be able to play again."

August's blank expression turned almost confused, before the corner of his lips twitched up.

"You can't kick me out," he said. "I created Darkest Days."

"Says who?" Damon challenged. "We all had a hand in making this band what it is. If we say you're out, you're out."

August's eyes narrowed darkly.

"Damon, wait." Cameron held his hand out. "Let's not do something stupid."

"The only one doing something stupid is this idiot over here," Damon retorted. He looked to Ian and Noah. "You guys want to back me up on this?"

Noah nodded reluctantly.

Ian looked even more hesitant. He didn't nod yes or no.

"Are we sure this is the best way to deal with this?" Cameron asked, looking at each of the guys. "We can't just kick August out of the band."

"What if he keeps on using and ends up hurting himself even worse?" Damon argued. "What if he gets so high he overworks himself and injures his shoulder permanently? What if he takes too much again and has another overdose?"

"I won't," August interrupted.

Damon glared at him.

"You almost fucking died. You think any of us want to watch that happen again?"

August opened his mouth to speak.

"No. I'll ask one more time," Damon cut him off. "Are you going to stop with the drugs?"

August's eyes were pained.

"I can't," he said softly. "If I stop…" He swallowed hard. "Damon, I can't…"

"Then you don't leave us any choice."

I could tell Damon was trying to keep his tone level and reasonable, but it still shook slightly. His fingers trembled. He clenched his fist to cover it. Even he wasn't unaffected by all the emotions flying through the room.

"If you think you need to take drugs to keep playing, then there's only one solution." Damon looked around the room. "I'm calling a vote. Is August in or out?"

"Damon, you can't—" Cameron protested.

"In. Or. Out?"

Cameron clamped his mouth shut, looking away.

"Out," Noah said. "I'm sorry August. Damon is right. If you hurt yourself, we'll never forgive ourselves."

August sat silent.

"Ian?" Damon asked.

"I—" Ian looked vaguely sick, expression pale, eyes wide. "Damon…"

His twin nodded, as if he knew exactly what his brother was saying.

"Cameron?" Damon asked.

"We can't just kick him out," Cameron said. "It's August."

"That's two yes, two no," Damon said briskly. He turned to me. "Cassie."

My heart jumped to my throat. Eyes wide, I shook my head at Damon, asking him not to do this. He looked sympathetic, but continued speaking.

"You're the deciding vote."

"I'm not in the band," I said immediately. "I don't get a vote."

"You're the only other one of us who saw through August's bullshit. You know what it's like to see him collapse and end up in a hospital. You know what's at stake."

My throat felt tight. I could barely breathe. Nervous energy flooded my system, making my whole body quake.

I knew what was best for August.

I also knew he wouldn't forgive me for it.

I turned my pleading eyes to him.

"I'm sorry," I said. "But I can't let you continue hurting yourself."

August sat frozen on the sofa. His jaw was set, his eyes focused on an empty point in the distance.

"That's it, then," Damon said. He was now the one who sounded vaguely sick. I didn't know if he thought it would actually come to this. "The tour continues without you. We'll get Seth to fill in like we discussed before. He knows all our songs already."

"And what the fuck am I supposed to do?"

Despite the expletive, August's face was expressionless, his voice bone-chillingly cold. Dread filled my chest. I'd never heard August this biting.

"You rest." Damon said. "You stop playing for a while. Give your shoulder some time to get better. Stop pushing yourself. After the tour… we'll figure out what to do then."

August let out a bitter laugh.

"Right. After the tour. And what happens when we need to go back into the studio to record our next album? You going to keep me sidelined for that, too?"

"If we need to."

"So that's it?"

"Yes," Damon said simply. "That's it."

August stared him down. Damon stared back. The others couldn't look away.

August nodded stiffly.

"Fine. You want me gone? I'm gone."

He crossed the room and stormed through the door, slamming it shut behind him.

The room was eerily still.

"What the fuck did we just do," Cameron whispered, breaking the silence.

"We saved his life," Noah said.

Ian shook his head.

"No. We destroyed it."

Damon clenched the hair at the back of his head in his fist, tugging on the strands.

"We had to do it."

He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself.

"We can't let him leave like this," I said. "I'm not letting it end like this."

I didn't want it to end at all.

I rushed to the door, flinging it open and skidding to a stop in the hotel hallway. August was already gone. I hurried to the elevator, praying for it to arrive quickly.

When I finally made it to the lobby of the hotel, I saw August's tall, blond figure exiting the building. I ran after him.

"August, wait," I called.

He stopped.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I never meant for all this to happen."

"No?" He flicked his gaze back to me. I took a step back, alarmed. His eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them, simmering with a cold fury. "What exactly did you expect to happen?"

"I didn't think…" I never thought it would have come to this. But… "Damon was right. We can't stand by and let you hurt yourself."

"You're so easy to read." His eyes narrowed. "You're not worried about me. You're worried about yourself."

I gaped. August continued before I could speak.

"You think you finally found someone who understands you and he's a fucking drug addict. You're afraid I was just lying to you to get what I want, like I lied about everything else."

Tears stung the back of my eyes.

"That's not true! I don't think that at all. You didn't lie about us. I know it."

"I was doing fine before you showed up."

"You weren't fine. You said it yourself. You haven't been fine for over a year."

"I had it under control."

My stomach clenched, indignation settling in my gut along with the guilt.

"Are you forgetting that I watched you almost die?"

"That was an accident. I wouldn't have let it happen again."

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place."

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

"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 to anyone."

He laughed bitterly.

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

"Not forever," I said desperately. "Just for the tour."

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

"You don't have to just walk away from everything. This doesn't have to be the end."

August growled, pushed open the lobby doors with a shove, ready to storm away.

Hot tears fell down my cheeks.

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

He turned back. His eyes burned with resentment.

"I guess that makes me a liar after all."