"Don't talk about my wife," I say calmly, wiping his blood off my hand.

Lukas jumps up. "Okay, that's enough. I won't tolerate this shit." He stares Finn down, as he's definitely contemplating punching me back. And I want him to. "Finn, I love you like a brother, man, but you're a fucking asshole. I'm moving your appointments so you're not here on the same day anymore. Get your shit and leave. I'll call you when I find a time for you."

Rayne comes running in as Finn stands, and she starts to go crazy, touching his face and freaking out like I just punched Jesus. "Oh my God!" She turns to me. "What the hell did you do to him? He's bleeding."

I shrug. "I got dizzy and somehow my fist landed on his face."

She shakes her head at me like I'm a lunatic and walks Finn out, holding a towel over his face. I don't like how friendly she seems with him. If that fucker is messing with my little sister, I'll kill him.

"Nice, Tal," Lukas says, spraying bleach all over the chair. "Did you really have to do that?"

"Yes. He's been begging for it for months."

"He did you guys a favor filling in for you on the tour. And he's not a bad guitarist. You know that."

"I don't care. He's a douchebag, and he got what he deserved. Did you see how Rayne was falling all over him? I don't like it."

"They're friends—that's it. I've never seen him touch her."

"He fuckin' better not."

Lukas puts away his cleaning stuff and reorganizes his desk while I get comfy in the chair, rubbing my hand.

"You need to calm the hell down,” he says, then changes the subject, because Lukas is a peacemaker. “So you made it here without crashing. That's good."

"Yeah, I feel pretty good today. Not as dizzy. Just that fuckin' noise in my head."

"You're still struggling at practice, though. We all see it."

I take a drag off my e-cig. "Everything sounds fucked up to me, but I'm trying to get used to it. I think by the time we go on tour, I'll be able to get through the set."

He turns his stool toward me. "And what if you can't? You gotta be realistic, man."

My mood is going south again fast. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm not trying to say anything other than I hope things work out… But if they don't, I've had an idea I've been playing around with in my head for a while that I've been wanting to talk to you about."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?" Last time someone suggested an idea to me, I ended up marrying a stranger. Which turned out okay, so I guess I'm open to another one.

"You know how me and you were jammin' the acoustic stuff in the studio last week?"

"Yeah…"

"You played that great, and you could play sitting down."

"True."

"So, it seems like the toned-down stuff and the acoustic pieces are easier for you. Like, it's not fucking up your head so much. I think the loudness, the amps, and the vibration of all the instruments at once is making you worse."

I nod. "Yeah, that's definitely true." I've been playing a lot of acoustic at home now. And he's right, it's a lot easier for me.

"I was thinking, what if we finished writing some of those songs you and I were messing with, all unplugged. I can play the violin or mandolin on some, you could play guitar and sing, we can throw in a little piano, and Rayne could sing on some, too. Her voice is so melodic, man. It's haunting. You could do some really cool duets, just everything stripped down like some cool-ass, folk ballad stuff."

"You want to start a band?"

"Yeah, just us. And play some local gigs, no tours. I hate not playing, man, but I can't leave the shop and I'm not gonna do that tour shit. I want to be with Ivy and the kids, not on a fucking bus. But this, we could do. And you can write the kind of songs you want, instead of the band always fucking with your songs. You're different than them, ya know. You're more like me. You play with way more soul and emotion. It's in your bones in a different way."

My interest is piqued. Lukas can play pretty much every instrument under the sun. There's no doubt we could create some amazing songs. I've been at a crossroads with Ashes & Embers for a while now. Lukas is correct that I want to write and perform deeper songs and lyrics and not just rock out on stage.

A & E is my family, though. It's what my dad has conditioned me to do since I was five—play the guitar and be in a band with my brothers. For some reason, my interest in singing was always ignored. Even though she's young, Rayne has a unique, raspy, lilty voice, but she hates the entire rock band scene. My parents purposely tried to keep her away from it, not wanting a daughter in the industry. This would be good for her, too.

Truth be told, I like to sing. I love ballads. And I absolutely love the raw, unplugged sound.

I watch the gun needle go in and out of my arm. "Lemme think about it."

"No pressure. I just think it would be good for all of us, and we work well together."

I nod. "It would be hard to leave the band, but maybe you're right. Maybe it's time for a change. I gotta try to get through this next tour first and see how it goes. I'm on some new meds."

"That's cool, man. The offer will stand. I won't do this with anyone but you."

"You've definitely got my mind going. I never considered anything like this before."

He looks up at me and smiles. "Well, now you can."

I rub the side of my head, trying to ignore the buzzing. "Tomorrow's the big day. The end of the experiment."

"Holy shit, really? That kinda flew by."

"In some ways, yeah."

"You're staying together, right?"

"Hell, yeah,” I try to sound enthusiastic, but I have my doubts. I’m not sure how she feels anymore. Or what I can promise her.

He slaps my arm. "Congratulations, man. We're gonna have to celebrate."

* * *

On my way out of town, I get stuck behind a school bus that keeps stopping every three blocks, and the familiar dizziness starts. Shit. I bang the steering wheel, hoping I can get home without having to pull over and puke on the side of the road. Popping my e-cig in my mouth, I turn the air conditioning on full blast, hoping the cold air will help me feel better and stave off the nausea that usually isn't far behind the vertigo.

As I wait for the bus in front of me to move, I look over to my right and see a girl who looks just like Asia standing in front of the diner, talking to a guy who's smiling down at her. I blink, trying to clear my head, and my blood turns to ice as they hug. She doesn't just look like my wife—that is my wife.

The driver behind me leans on his horn as I freeze in the middle of the road, torn between driving away and jumping out of the car to find out what the fuck she's doing down here with a guy I don't recognize. Who's fucking hugging her now. They're so wrapped up in whatever they're talking about they don't even look over at the guy blaring his horn behind me. If she did, she would definitely see me. But she doesn't, because she's totally focused on him.

The piercing whirl in my ear ramps up several decibels as I drive home in a rage, my brain spinning, trying to figure out an explanation. She never leaves the house. She doesn't know anyone. She was home when I left this morning, sitting on the floor cutting fabric and telling me to be careful. She blew me a kiss and told me she loved me.

When I finally get home, I expect to see her car in the garage. I hoped the vertigo was making me hallucinate the entire thing, but she's not home.

I enter the house through the garage door and head into the kitchen, and there's a note on the counter.

Ran to the store. Xo

Panic rises up in me. Maybe she wasn't with that guy by choice. Maybe she was at the store and he took her, like an abduction.

She was smiling, though, not trying to get away. Whoever he is, she knows him. She let him put his arms around her, and she had her arms around him. My blood boils.

Whoosh.

I follow Pixie down the hall to the craft room and see the fabric still on the floor, like she left in a hurry. She always cleans up when she's done working. Did she fucking bolt the minute I got off the hill? I stopped at Asher's before I went to the tattoo studio, so she had some time to do whatever it is she's doing.

I turn to leave the room and spot her journal on her desk next to her laptop, lying open with a pen on the page. In the six months we've been doing this, I've never touched her journal.

But today, the last day of this experiment, I pick it up and read the most recent entry.

This process has taught me so much about myself. I've learned so much about what I want, what I need, and what makes me happy. Given the choice, I never would have married him. He's broken my heart a thousand times. I hate what's happened to him and how it's changed him. Things were so good for a while, and then they changed.

And of all times for D to come back into my life. I've ignored his texts for weeks, but he just won't let up. I can't tell Talon. He will never understand. I don't even understand. I feel like I can't move forward and I can't go back until I get the answers I need. I'm stuck.

What the fuck does that mean?

She never would have married me. If given the choice. And she's stuck.

Stuck with me—the loser who’s going deaf. Does she just feel sorry for me now? Stuck with the fucked-up, crumbling rock star who can barely please her without falling off the bed half the time?

And now she's with Danny. Of course, that must have been him I saw her with.

Motherfucker.

Whoosh

I didn't think the sound in my head could get any worse, but fuck yeah, it is. It's like a train just drove straight through my ear. I'm actually shaking as I'm standing here holding her journal. I drop it back on her desk like it's on fire and go upstairs to take more of my pills, staring at her side of the bed while I wait for them to start to work. Then I pull out my own journal, along with the final paperwork we're supposed to fill out and bring with us to our meeting with Dr. Hollister tomorrow.