chapter 3

Rex

I pinch my eyes open and groan. My ribs feel like they've been pummeled.

"Hey, buddy. You awake?"

I turn to look in the direction of the voice. "Blaise. What the hell are you doing here?"

My friend, Blaise O'Malley, smiles brightly. "I'm your emergency contact!"

"Oh. Right." Men over thirty shouldn't have the drummers of their bands as an emergency contact. "What time is it?"

"Four."

I glance out the window. It's dark. "In the morning?"

"You betcha," he says, nodding once, his red hair flopping out of place.

"You drove out here at four in the morning to..." I begin.

Blaise shrugs. "Well, I got the call at, like, one. And I was awake anyway, so –"

I chuckle. Even smiling hurts. Shit. "Dirty son of a bitch."

Blaise's eyes widen. "No, it was – I was working on a new –"

"Giving you a hard time, B," I cut him off. Blaise, of all my bandmates, lives the least rocker lifestyle of us all. Sure, he's a fucking badass drummer and can fly off the handle if the spirit calls him. But he disapp