Chapter 24: Chapter 23: Rock Stars Victories Turn To $hit

Surprise! A Trace POV chapter.

This chapter may seem random but is actually so important at this point as we have made it through Leed and Ash's beginning and things begin to thicken. So many important things happen or are revealed in this chapter that pivot the rest of Leed and Ashlynn's story-line and take it in a darker turn, and also effect Trace personally and in his relationship with Kat. And ultimately, the whole series is Trace's story. It's his band and his pain that has fueled the entire Soundcrush experience and brought them all together. So I'm super excited to return to the head of my favorite rock star and see how he's doing!

The song for this chapter for this chapter is "How To Save A Life" by The Fray. I think it's relevant on so many levels here. There are a lot of people trying to save different relationships in different ways in this chapter. But none more relevant to the song than Trace and Ross's story that finally begins to develop in this chapter. What? Ross? Yep....his first appearance. Sort of...read on....

Trace

I'm brewing coffee at Kat's place in the soft morning light and rummaging the kitchen drawer for an e-cig, trying to be quiet because Kat just drifted back to sleep after our morning love-making, but I can't sleep. Sexing her always makes me feel wide awake and ready for a party.

Goddamn I love that girl.

She's like vitamins, or a natural anti-depressant or something. It's incredible how being with her, loving her through her body and all the way into her soul has changed my whole fucking outlook.

I used to be a broody bastard, and now...hell, now I'm practically Leed. Giddy as fuck. I feel like the world is just the greatest fucking place.

She makes me so hopeful, that just last night, I did something I  had no intention of doing. Ever. We were just hanging out, having dinner, and Ross sent me his once-a-month email that I've been ignoring for three years now. Always a variation on the same thing.

Son,

Just checking in. Your mom says you are in a seriously good place. I'm glad. So glad.

Trace, I know I've said this many times, many ways, but I won't ever let you believe that I don't love you. Didn't consider you my son. I loved you from the moment you were born, and even though I soon learned that you weren't my blood, it didn't stop the love. The love I have for you—I will always carry.

But I was also angry. Not at you. I was angry at fate... at a situation that was so unfair. At your mother, for asking me to  pretend like we weren't raising you in a lie.

Angry at her for the week she spent with your real father when we were on a break. Your mother and I...we should have faced all that anger before you were born. I loved your mother so much, but I shouldn't have married her when I did. I should have waited until after you were born. Maybe it would have all been easier for me to accept. It would have felt more like a choice and not a cruel turn of fate.

When your mom and I got back together and she turned up pregnant, I had this hopeful, desperate belief that the week she spent with Matt was just a stupid mistake that we could ignore and forget about. I was twenty-one years old—younger than you are now—and I had this absolute conviction  that nothing would go wrong in the course of our love story. I told myself it didn't matter who your father was, but deep down, before you were born, I was already absolutely convinced that you were my biological son.

And when I turned out to be wrong... I was young and immature and I let a stupid fucking blood test destroy my optimism. It broke me. I became a man with two sides. One that was a desperate facade to be good to you and your mom because I did love you both. But there was the other side. The side that was so fucking enraged that fate had fucked me over. Instead of learning how to process that one disappointment and grow the fuck up, I let the anger fester and I just stopped . Stopped growing up. In my core, I was stuck there your whole life—that twenty one year old kid that just got kicked in the balls by fate and was boiling with rage from the hurt of it.

I'm forty-five years old now, and I've finally started to grow up. I finally figured out what you had to teach yourself—how to be a man, despite a shitty father. But I know you, Trace. You're angry just like I was. You have learned to control your anger. It doesn't mean its not in you.

You couldn't not be angry, Son. You might not have my DNA, but I burned that part of me—my anger—into your blood, the first time I smacked you across the face at five years old.

Drunk as I was, I still remember the look in your eyes.

Hate. Rage. Fear.

My legacy to you.

So, if you ever need to, you can give your inheritance back to me. I will take it all your hate, rage and fear because I've earned it. I can accept all your negative feelings and never again return them to you.

You may not believe that, but it's true. Somehow, I've found the capacity to change. It was partly hitting rock bottom, it's partly hard work put toward the changing, and it's partly some kind of miracle that happened when I saw you on the cover of Rolling Stone with Matt and felt nothing but gratitude at the look of love on his face for you. Somehow, through all that,  I've finally learned how to process shit now. All of it. I've finally found the man inside me I should have become the day you were born.

But it's okay if you can't accept any of this. You don't have to believe I've changed, because I will always be,

Your Father, who finally knows how to love you

For whatever reason, I flipped the phone around and showed Kat. Her mischievous expression grew more solemn the longer she read.

We stared at each other for a long time after she finished reading. Kat is ride or die, because she refused let tears betray her pity for me when I'm giving her the Rock Star face.

She took a deep breath and says, "That's a lot to take in. How does that make you feel?"

I shrugged. "Don't Marley me, okay? I don't know how I feel about it. You don't know how many times he promised he'd change, promised he'd never drink again, when I was growing up. Especially when I started fighting back. I don't know if I believe him. I just wanted you to know. To see...how he is. He's never going to stop trying."

Kat is quiet. "Your mom still talks to him a lot, huh?"

I sighed. "Yes. It's fucking crazy, but I think she still loves him."

Kat stroked my hand across the dinner table. "Trace, have you noticed that your mom has sort of...stopped dating?"

"She's just in a dry spell. It's not like she's twenty. It's not easy to date at her age."

Kat smiled and shook her head. "I don't really think that's it. She told me recently that...that your perception of the violence between her and Ross was a little skewed. She told me it went both ways, but it was like...you couldn't see that. Like you don't remember how she amped him up into a fight when she knew he was drinking and she should have walked away from the situation. She told me that some of the worst physical altercations, she participated in by slapping him or throwing things at him. She told me she realized she had some work to do to learn how to relationship right, too. I think she was telling me that because she walked in us fighting that one time a couple of months ago, remember?"

"Yeah, she talked to me about it, too. I told her we both know we have to de-escalate when things get heated, and we are still working on that tipping point."

"Right.But it made me think...the way she's in therapy, the way she's stopped dating... do you think maybe your mom is thinking about trying with Ross again?" she asks slowly.

"Fuck no, she better not be," I growl. "She better have her head straight about him. Love is not enough, when the person you love is an abusive drunk."

Kat nodded, still holding my hand. "She told me he's been sober since the day she left him. My dad told me he sold his business and he's started a non-profit for abusive alcoholics trying to heal and change their behavior. My dad says it's thriving, getting all kinds of media exposure and grants and stuff. He's says the therapists that work there are really helping people. He said your dad lives there at the halfway house and works the program."

"Yeah, I know all that. He's told me...in the emails." I shrug. "Marley says that alcohol doesn't make people abusers, it's the way abusers try to cope with their rage, that ironically and horrifically backfires. She says patterns of abuse breed more abuse. And that part is true. My grandfather was an abusive drunk, and so is Ross."

Kat smiled softly. "People can break patterns. You did." She picks my hand up and puts it against her face, illustrating that I have only ever touched her in love, not in rage. "You fought with your dad when you were younger, but now, you never throw the first punch. For you, having hard boundaries about the way we fight is how you make sure you stay in control. Maybe for your dad, staying sober is the way he breaks the pattern. Plus...have you ever thought that maybe it was the secret they were keeping from you was the real reason for Ross's rage? Now that the secret is out, that maybe you all can...heal?"

"I don't want to talk about giving Ross another chance, Kitty." I ask her softly. It's the same thing I always tell Marley.

"I love you, Trace, but that's a lie. You wouldn't have shown me that text if you didn't want to talk about it."

Fuck me. It hit me hard, that she was right about that. I couldn't explain why I showed her, but obviously I did want to talk to her about it.

So we did talk about it, and in the end I sent Ross a reply for the first time in three years.

Thanks for checking in. Mom's right, I'm in a good place in a lot of ways. You're right, too. I'm still fucking pissed. I don't trust you or your words. You were such a spectacularly shitty and scary father too many times that I can't forget, but you were also a good dad, too many times for me to forget those either. You taught me to ride a skateboard when mom thought it was too dangerous and you unlocked the gift of music that ran through me--when it must have been hard for you. You refused to let me quit at either, not when my knees bled and not when my fingers bled. You patched me up.

And you hit me out of nowhere and you hurt me so many more times than that with drunken words. You bloodied me more than the skateboard or strings and now you're trying to patch those wounds, but I'm not bleeding anymore, Dad.

I'm fucking scarred.

So thank you for making me a risk-taker and thank you for the music and even for the motivation to rebel against my asshole father, because I wouldn't be where I am today without you—even if I had grown up knowing Matt del Marco was my father. It's highly likely I would have turned out more like more half-brother...lost under Matt's shadow, and with big time resentments. But also fuck you for the rage and hate and fear that grips me every time some punk-ass loser takes a swing at me—which seems to happen a lot in this life I've chosen, by the way. And fuck you for making me doubt my self control every time Kat and I have angry words.

And by the way, I'm not ready to talk to you or see you, but...you can keep sending the emails. Don't necessarily expect a reply. I guess what I'm saying is...I know we're not done. I just don't  know if what's left is closure or something different.

He emailed back immediately. Ok. That's fair. But for someone who doesn't want to talk, you just said a fucking lot. You don't have to wait for me to email you, to say what you need to say to me. I can accept if you what you need is closure with me. I can't accept being in recovery from  all my behaviors and not trying to help you  recover from them, too--in whatever ways you need. Not just you, Trace. Your mom, too.  I want her to be happy, and I know she's still struggling, too.

Just because I could never let my dad have the last word, I email back. Okay, this is all I can take for now because I don't want to hear about you and mom. For real. That's a boundary with me. Do not try to talk to me about mom. If you mean what you say...that you really want to change, to be a part of me letting go of shit with you, let's just leave it there for now. Let it ride. I'm done for now. You can email next month or whatever.

When he didn't push—didn't email back, I felt really at peace and so grateful to Kat for calling me out and helping me break the wall. Marley has maybe been helping me chink away at it, but it took Kat's love to give me the courage to take the massive swing.

Which led to a powerfully intimate night and morning with Kat. Which is why she is zonked out and I am victory vaping on the patio with a strong cup of joe, when someone thuds against the outside gate.

I hear the Lion's dulcet tones. "Baby, just get your dress and come back home with me. I'll take you to the event. Fuck this Mason kid. Call him and tell him you're not hanging with him tonight. It's not even fair to him anyway. You're gonna show up gorgeous and sweet like you always are and he'll be crushing hard in about five minutes. Really, it's cruel to lead him on. We both know he's got no chance."

I smile darkly into my coffee cup. Leed is so fucking full of himself. Being cut from the same arrogant cloth, I really enjoy that about him. Except when it comes to my ex-wife.

Yeah, I said it. it's weird how I couldn't stand to think of her as my wife when we were actually married, but now that it's all past, I am much more comfortable thinking of her like that. A woman with whom I was formerly attached, but am still very much responsible for. Marley says it's because I have an unhealthy possession problem with women I care about.

Of fucking course I have a possession problem with women I care about. I've learned, if I don't see about them, abusers are just waiting to swoop in and fuck them up. Like Ross. Like the coked-up motherfucker that choked Mac. Like the faceless fucks that hurt Ash in ways she doesn't speak of.

Right now, Ash isn't hurting, however. I'm trying to be happy for the way she's giggling at whatever Leed is doing to make that rustling noise on the other side of the fence. I tell myself it's good thing. She deserves happiness and lightness and Leed can certainly bring a lot of fun to her life.

"You're right, baby," she's saying. "I hadn't thought of it like that. I guess I should let him know I'm not really on the market. But it's not really a date, you know. It's just a way to make sure I can hang close between Street and Trace. And I don't want to offend Matt by canceling since he set it up to give them a buffer."

Ah, now the truth comes out. Typical Matt. Does he really think I would cause a scene on Kat's big night? At an event that is supposed to launch an anti-family violence campaign for MdM Philanthropies. Wow. Dad doesn't think much of my self-discipline, does he? Anyway, I've seen Street a dozen times since he and Kat got drunk and he creeped all over her body with a paintbrush. We're cool.

And when I say we are cool, what I mean is we can sit and play guitars together with Matt, or hang at a club with Bridge and Row and an entourage, but really I can't fucking wait for the little shit to jet off to Europe in the fall to apprentice with some painter in Florence. I'll like my little brother a whole helluva lot better with an ocean between him and my girl.

"Trace ain't gonna cause static on Kat's big night," Leed assures Ashlynn. Thank you very much, brother. I smile and nod, saluting him from behind the fence with my coffee cup.

"I don't think Matt is worried about that. He just said, it's the first time the whole family is doing a public event together and Kat won't be there at Trace's side, she'll be schmoozing the donors, and he thought Trace might...feel out of place. He said Trace is the kind of guy that needs a job. He'll think it's his job to check-out Mason on my behalf."

Ah. I had already planned to do that. At least until Kat told me that Ash was staying at Leed's tonight and she thought they were getting somewhat serious into this dating thing. Then I figured I'd just let Leed come bust up the blind-date Ash was too polite to cancel.

"Hold the fucking phone...are you telling me you are Trace's hand-holder by way of fake date? Fucking del Marco...he's as devious as Riley."

I nod in silent agreement and take a hit off the vape. Leed has no idea. Dealing with my bio-dad is like trying to play chess with a super-computer. I'm so fucked in the dad department. Both are emotionally exhausting to me in different ways.

Ash giggles. "Don't worry. I'm sure the Mason scenario will fall apart the minute you walk in the door and obliterate his hopes."

The fence thuds again, like Leed is pushing her up against it. "You want me to do that, huh? You like making me jealous, don't you?"

"No, I really don't. But I do...kind of like the way you are always there. You make me feel safe. I haven't felt that way in a long time."

I sigh. My fault. I hurt her and she ran from me. Ran to straight into hell.

I hear rustling against the fence again and then Leed murmuring. "I've got your back, baby. Always. But I'll be nice to this kid, I promise."

"Thank you. See you tonight."

"Yeah." A pause, while there's more movement. Then Leed says, low, but distinctive. "Until I can remind you again, remember who loves you."

I spew my coffee across the porch and have a coughing fit as I rise and jerk open the gate. "What...the...fuck?" I splutter.

Leed blinks at me. "I could ask you the same thing."

Ashlynn floats a hand to her eyes. "Eavesdropping is probably better done in pants, Trace."

I step back and gesture for them to come inside. "Get the hell in here. What is wrong with you, making out in public like that? Aren't you the one that said you wanted to stay low-profile? Big Sister in the background?"

She's not answering me, still averting her eyes. "Christ, Ash, it's not like you've never seen me in boxers before."

Her eyes lift at my prickly challenge. "Don't scold me, Trace, I'm not a child. We weren't making out, we were just saying goodbye. And I never saw you in boxers by choice," she shoots back. "You just stumbled out of your room like that, seeking coffee."

"You never complained or seemed uncomfortable. Never was a problem when we were married, what's the big deal now?" I snark.

"The big deal now is we're not married, you're in love with my sister and I'm with one of your best friends, and we're all going to be seeing a lot of each other. I don't walk around in my underwear here because I know you are likely to walk in the door at any time."

"Fine, from now on I'll make sure to get dressed. But don't be a hypocrite, rewrite our history and make me seem like a creeper-fake-husband, in front of your boyfriend. We were not romantic, but we were married for chrissakes. For the first year and half, we were friends and we were comfortable with each other. I recall a few unembarrassed strolls to the laundry room in your underwear, back in our old life. And you were never shy about lounging around by the pool with your bikini top off. Many times I looked the other way and threw you a towel when I came out to join you."

Leed raises his eyebrows at her. "That mostly all happened when I was still on medication. I couldn't manage it...I was still almost always high," she says defensively.

That part is true. Ash staying on pain pills for her headaches was never going to work. Her craving was just too strong, she was always taking to much—which is why I sent her to rehab three times. "Okay, I'll give you that, but there's no reason to freak out about a little skin. We're all adults."

Leed growls. "Trace, you should shut the hell up before you piss me off, okay? You are mouthing off and you don't even know what the fuck you are saying right now. Everything is different." His eyes shoot to Ashlynn, full of concern.

When she folds her arms across her ribs uncomfortably, that's when the shit I try not to think about flashes in my mind.

The pictures of her, that the doctors in Nashville took after her car crash, because they knew those injuries were not accidental. They showed them to the police, and the police questioned me about them.

She and I haven't talked about what she went through, but she knows I know. I told her after she was through the worst of her detox that the doctors who admitted her took pictures. Told her the police needed to talk to her about them.

She just cried and cried and told me if I cared about her at all, I would fix it for her, with the police so she didn't have to talk to them. She promised that between what had happened with the last guy she was with and her car accident, she was finally scared straight, that she would never go back to living in a world of sickness like that. She promised me she would get a therapist, but she could not go to the police. She said she couldn't give a clear statement of how it happened anyway—that she was too high when it happened.

In the end, Riley suggested we make it go away the simplest way possible. He falsified a sworn statement by her that the wounds were a self-harm thing to get me off the hot seat with the cops. They always look at the husband first, but with a sworn statement and a full caseload, the police were happy to let it go without opening a formal investigation.

To be honest, Riley and I had a serious discussion about whether or not there could have been some truth in the false statement he invented. I was never sure, but from the way she cried and said she was too high to know what was happening, it could have gone down all kinds of bad ways.

Fuck. Leed's right. I'm really being an asshole here, mouthing off to Ashlynn about showing skin. He obviously knows more about it than I do. I mean...she spent the night with him. If they are together, I'm sure he's seen the scars. There's no way she could avoid some kind of explanation about something like that.

"Fuck. I'm sorry, hon. I'm being a dick for no reason at all." I crack my neck, then stalk into the house, finding one of my many sweatshirts that Kat has stolen in the laundry room and pulling it on. Ashlynn and Leed are still on the patio, so I return with two mugs of black coffee.

Leed accepts it with a nod that lets me know he's not too pissed at my thoughtless remarks, but Ashlynn is still prickly. "What the hell are you doing here anyway? I thought you swore you weren't going to stay over."

That starts our sparring all over again. "Well, you weren't home, so we thought it would be...something new. And don't you turn this around on me, Missy. You guys are the ones out of bounds here."

Ash drops her hand and gapes at me. "Did you just call me Missy?"

"He did, but I can see why you are confused, because he's failed to state his beef." Leed grins and slides crosslegged onto the patio table, slurping his coffee held in two hands and watching us with amusement. "You know, I kind of like it when you guys fight. Carry on." He gestures imperiously.

Ash gets all distracted by giggling at him. "You are so bad."

"I thought I was amazing." The look he gives her would normally have Ashlynn sprinting for the hills, but she just cuts him a shy lip curl.

I sigh. I really don't want to hear about their sex life. "Can we please get back to my beef? Let's start with you, by the way," I point at Leed with my e-cig. "You can't say whatever the fuck you feel like, all casual. Don't fuck with her, okay?"

Leed laughs at me. "You are absolutely right, Trace. I will never say shit to Ash that I don't mean." He unfolds off the table, takes her in his arms, kisses her again, like I'm not standing right the fuck here, and says. "I'm gonna let you fight your own battle here, Sunshine. Unless you want me to stay?"

"No. Don't worry. Despite his overbearing bad-assery, I'm not at all scared of him. He's all tough talk, until Kat shows up and tells him what to do," she says.

"You should be scared now. We are about to have a serious fucking discussion." I say.

Ash says, "Oh, please. Go put some pants on."

Leed grins like a hyena. "You coming home with me tonight after the art thing?"

She nods against the lips now pressed to her forehead.

He slips out the gate, then pops his head back in. "Hey, baby? Love you. Mean it." He shoots me a lethal look that I'm more used to seeing from his sister.

She crosses to him and puts her arms around his neck, murmuring something I can't hear. He gives her a long hug, shooting me a shit-eating grin over her shoulder. He ruffles her hair. "It doesn't matter, baby. He already heard it. He might not like it, but deep down he knows I mean it, because he knows me. Bye Trace," Leed says casually. "Don't piss my girl off. If you fuck with her, you fuck with me."

"Are you gonna let him talk about you like that? My girl? Is that really how you want to be treated? Like your some kind of possession?" I cross my arms and look expectantly at Ash.

Okay, I know. Now I'm just being a shit-stirrer, and that's usually Leed's role, but these two are really hacking me off. They are acting far too cute. Leed throwing the L-word around after one night together? What the fuck is that? I mean, I know I told Kat that I loved her pretty quick, but we had known it our whole lives, so it just came naturally between us. Leed is really pushing this.

Where's the rock star pride? What—he finally made it with her and now he's gonna act like a googly-eyed teenager and make her feel all secure, like they are gonna get married and have babies or something?

Moreover, Leed might think he's in love after one night with Ashlynn—I get it, she's a real sweet, lovely girl and I'm sure it was special—and Leed is a fucking lunatic when it comes to his feelings, but what happens when he runs into Sophie somewhere that Ashlynn isn't? Cause, no matter how many times he says he's over her, I've never once seen him say no to that bitch. Doesn't matter how awful she is...there's something about that girl he can't resist.

He says she's like a blow pop—all sweet and shiny but hard on the outside. He says he knows down deep she's gummy goodness you can chew on for a while, if you can just get down to it. He says one day he'll lick the hard shell off.

His child-like metaphor, not mine.

I'm still looking at Ashlynn expectantly. Come on, girl. Where's that cautious,five year life plan Ashlynn? The one that freaked out when Cameron surprised her with a promise ring right before he went off to Duke? The girl who came over to my backporch that same night after he left, did the most daring thing she had ever done? She bummed a cigarette off me and paced my back deck, making me listen to her while she choked her way through an irritating speech of self-doubt.

She went on and on. Were they too young for promises? She was just starting her senior year of high school, he was a big man on campus at Duke with a lot on his plate—pre-med and football. What would her parents say about the ring? What would her friends think? Did she even really want to wear a guy's ring, like she was his? After all, she had her own plans in life. They weren't going to ever be Mr and Mrs. If anything, they were going to be Dr. And Dr. Was Cam giving her a ring a bad sign that he wanted too conventional a relationship—that he expected her to take a backseat to his career? Moreover, what if he cheated? It would be a whole different level of betrayal if he got with someone at Duke while she was wearing his promise ring. If they have an open relationship while they were apart, instead of amping up the expectations, would that be better? But he swore he wanted to be faithful, long distance. Did she do the right thing, accepting his ring? What did I think?

God, she got on my nerves so bad that night, I smoked a whole bowl while I tried to get away without giving her any advice. Finally, she snatched my pipe and wouldn't give it back until I responded.

I told her. "Ash, you are a fucking freak. It's just a birthday present that he combo'ed as a promise ring, right? It really doesn't mean shit, except that Cam is afraid you are going to let Brent Peters slide in there now that he's not surgically attached to you. And you aren't going to fuck Brent Peters anyway, because you're too much of a Pollyanna to cheat on Cam, no matter if you wear his ring or let him cheat on you by giving him a pass with the open relationship bullshit. One day, you might be Dr. Pollyanna, but you'll still want to come home to that perfect life with Dr. Quarterback. You might as well wear the ring. It will make him feel better and it doesn't change a damn thing for you, except that it might keep Cam from giving you herpes via a bunch of frat party flings. There. That's my opinion. Wear the damn ring. Now fucking give me my pipe back before I go tell your dad it's your pipe."

Yeah, eighteen year-old me was a douche to everyone except Kat. I was probably just irritated because I had caught Kat kissing some little punk down behind the clubhouse a few days before, and I was thinking that I would like to put a ring through the belt loops of her way too short shorts and drag her around with me to keep little fourteen year old punks from feeling her up. I was much less concerned with Ash's problems than whether or not Kat was gonna take things too fast with her first eighth-grade boyfriend.

I'm not so much of a douche now. Now I want to take care of both the Ballard women. But I'm really hoping Ash is going to realize for herself she's moving too fast.

"Well?" I ask her expectantly, flinging a hand at the lion who looks more like a hyena right now. "You don't want to be his girl, right? You're not Leed Lawson's arm candy. Where's your strong, independent woman thing? Don't you want to be Ashlynn Ballard, Yogi and Wellness Guru?"

"Yes, I want that. Yes, I am going to let him talk about me like that," she says softly. "I am his girl."

She folds into his arms. Behind her back, Leed mouths to me. "Mine, fucker."

I point to my ring finger. "Mine first, bitch."

He puts his hands on her ass and mouths very slowly, to make sure I read his lips. "Not the good parts."

I roll my eyes and shoot him birds with both hands. We both grin. We are just shit-talking our way down.

Leed murmurs into her hair. "Fuck yeah, you are. He gives you any grief over it, call me. I'll come back and school him on how it's gonna be from now on. Me and you first, and he can step the fuck off because he's your ex-fake-husband. Emphasis on the fake, whereas we are real. Double-emphasis on the ex, whereas we are..." he grips her by the hips. "very much present in each other."

Present in each other. I war with wanting to throw up and wanting to pull out my phone to jot down Leed's line for a song lyric. Some of our best shit comes from the things he says. We all get the writing credit on the liner, and we never make a big deal about who penned it, but I'm always saying in interviews how some of our best hooks are pearls that come out of the Lion's mouth. He always laughs it off and claims not to remember saying it.

Leed is not even out of the patio gate before Ashlynn is trying to flee me to her bedroom. I bar the slider. "Oh, no. I wasn't kidding. We need to talk." She looks murderous. "Ash...please. Can we please just...talk a minute?"

She sighs and returns to the table, settling down with her mug. "Look, I appreciate your concern. I really do. But do you get what an uptight freak you are being right now? You are not my dad. I'm not a high school freshman sneaking in from a night out with my boyfriend. You are being the worst kind of hypocrite right now. You are doing my eighteen year old baby sister and flaunting it for the world to see and changing the course of her life forever. Whatever else she does it life, she will always be Little Sister, Trailbait, your Teenage Dream, whatever. But she doesn't mind what people think of your start, because she loves you and trusts that you love her. And so do I, so I'm happy for you both. So can you just...chill the hell out about me and Leed? Your attitude over this is so wrong. You have to give the same kind of acceptance you're expecting from me and my parents, okay? And I'm worried that you're going to hurt Kat with this. That she's going to read it all wrong. I know you're not jealous. I know you just can't give up the job of being my care-taker. Think about her, okay? I know this situation is still really really complicated, but we can't both belong to you. You have to let me go. We aren't married. I'm not your wife. I'm not your responsibility."

I blink and chuckle. "Shit has really changed, you know that? There was a time I called you the uptight freak. There was a time when you were the one raising hell to keep me off your sister and now I'm trying to keep my 'brother' off you. It's like...the fucking world is upside down, Ash. I don't..." I crack my neck. "I don't handle change well, okay? Change in my house usually meant Ross falling off the wagon and...and you know what kind of shit that meant." I touch her behind her temple, where she has the most impactful scar of all—her brain surgery scar.

She takes my hand away and puts it in hers. "There was a time when you managed all my ups and down really well. You can handle change, when you have to." She looks me in the eye. "This is one of those times you have to, Trace. You don't get a say in this. I...love him, okay? And he loves me."

I pull my hand away, lean forward, pushing my hands together like in prayer, pleading with her. "Ash...don't you think it's kind of soon to be framing your shit with Leed like that? You guys just started..."

"Trace...for nine months, Leed has been my biggest supporter. My best friend, really. Before that, when you and I were married, he was...distant because he felt like he had to be. The first night I ever met Leed, I was so attracted to him I nearly cheated on Cam with him. There's was just something about him that ...drew me. Like I couldn't help myself. The truth is...when I came to LA high, that very first time...I think I was hoping to see him. It's like I knew, even then, he would help me. And he tried. The night you took me to Vegas, Leed tried to get me to leave that club with him. He tried to get me away from that scene. You and I just got all turned around on the wrong path, because I was desperate and rebounding and you were so wrecked with guilt. Leed and I...it's not soon. It's always been there. It just took a long time for us to let it blossom."

I try to take in her words. I guess I knew there was something on Leed's part that first night they met, once I finally realized she was the Tequila Girl from the story Leed told at Mac and Adam's wedding. But I never knew the attraction went both ways. "Really? From the start, huh?"

"Yeah. Really."

I rub my jaw. "So when you and I got back from Vegas and Leed trashed that first hotel room over the weekend..."

She winces. "Yeah, he was probably upset about our news."

"He got upset a lot after that. He would get trashed on tequila and then trash hotel rooms for nearly a year," I muse. "The only time he wasn't an asshole was when you were hanging around, home from rehab. I didn't put it together. I just thought...the fame shit was fucking with him. It was hardest on him. Lot of expectations from the label."

"I didn't know that," she said quietly. "That he was that upset a lot..."

"It was worse after you left LA, but maybe that had to with Mac's assault in Portland. He said a lot of things to me about you, but I thought it was because of what happened to Mac."

She searches my face. "What do you mean?"

"We would talk about you in the band meetings. Riley was always giving updates on your whereabouts, Marcy was always trying to stay ahead of any leaks. Leed would question how long I was going to let you spiral. He'd tell me to stop letting Riley play the middle-man and help from a distance, because you were going to run out of luck and run up against some asshole like the one that hurt Mac. He told me to man up and go get my wife and bring her home safe. Again, I just thought he was being...Leed. Arrogant. Self-righteous. Triggered, because he hadn't been there to keep Mac safe. I blew it off. But the whole time...he had feelings for you. And you for him?"

"Feelings? No. I was too high to have feelings, most of the time. What I did feel back then was immense gratitude for you, that first year. And not much at all after I left LA. What Leed and I had was...potential. I guess he just really hated to see it go to waste," she smiles.

I crack my neck again. "Okay. So you guys have been a slow burn. I get that. God knows, Kat and I were building our whole lives. But, hon...Leed's a lot, to deal with. And for all his charm and zen-ness, he can turn around and be surprisingly aggressive. I guess I'm just worried...he's going to eat you alive."

"Don't worry," she smiles. "I'm a survivor, remember? I know men. Good ones. Bad ones. Leed is a good one."

"I know he's a good one. But even good men can be very dangerous."

"He's not going to hurt me," she frowns. "Not like that."

"That's not what I mean. I'm talking about what happened after Mac's assault. I saw how he was in that green room when it happened. The other guys didn't. Bodie was holding Adam outside the room while Dawes gave Mac CPR, and the venue security was holding everybody else back and making way for the paramedics, but I slipped into the room in the confusion."

"Ashlynn, he nearly killed that fucker that hurt her. The guy was coked out of his mind and aggressive as fuck and he couldn't even put up a fight against Leed. Leed wailed on the guy until he couldn't stand and then he got on top of him and choked him. And he didn't stop. It took me, John, and Ben to pull Leed off. I am not exaggerating at all when I say I think he would have ended that guy, if we hadn't stopped it. All I'm saying is...Leed's ferocity...I can imagine it would only be about ten times worse, with you, if he's claiming you. Putting you in that place of being his woman, in his heart and mind. You...need to be careful...with...shit...I don't know how to say what I'm trying to say and not upset you..." I fumble.

"Just say it."

I reach out and splay my hand at her side, without touching her. "I am not trying to get into the details between you two...but I need to know...for my brother's sake...for the band's sake...for your sake...how did he react when he saw?"

She bows her head, her hair falling in her face, shielding her eyes. "He hasn't seen. We haven't...I mean...I've managed to keep my clothes partially on."

I blow out a long breath. Shit. I feel like I'm walking on ice that could break any second. "You never told me what really happened. Did you hurt yourself, or did someone do that to you?"

All expression drains from her face. She rises abruptly, dropping the coffee cup. It shatters. I leap up, and put myself between her and the door again. "Okay, okay. You don't want to talk about it. I totally get that. Got plenty of that shit myself. I won't ask you to. All I'm saying is...be careful what you tell Leed about it. Cause I know myself, I can't get the pictures the police showed me out of my mind. I've wondered so many times about your injuries. Wondered what I would do if I knew for sure how they happened. If the truth is as bad as I imagine. If I knew there was some one responsible for them—and who. The thing is...I don't really have to wonder what Leed would do to someone that hurt someone he loves. I know. I've seen it."

She meets my eyes and there is fear there. Not panic—not like she is trying to get out of this uncomfortable situation. Real fear. Deep like a memory. Swirling like dread, at the warning I'm trying to give her.

"Christ. It wasn't you, was it? You didn't...do that to yourself at all, did you?"

Tears spill as she lowers her face again. She shakes her head mutely and covers her face in her hands. I've seen her do that so many times. She does it to keep the sobs in. "Fuck, hon." I slowly put my arms around her. She grasps me tight up around the shoulders, like she's drowning. "Please don't tell him," she gasps. "I know he will eventually see, but it's easier to let them think it's just another way I hurt myself. Kat, too. I don't want her to know the truth."

"Hon..." I am holding her head against my shoulder. "I won't tell Leed, but this is not a thing we can keep from Kat any longer. It's only a matter of time. She's going to find out, you know. She deserves the truth."

Ashlynn shakes her head against "Please, Trace. We've kept it from her this long. Please, don't tell her now. She's so happy that I'm okay and we are finally sisters like we should be-having fun together. It will just ruin everything...please don't tell her."

"Ashlynn...I don't think—"

"Oh my god."

The thin, whispered words come from behind me and stiffen my spine in horror. The sound of Kat's frail voice is pure pain. I haven't heard her sound like that since New Orleans. Since the night she found out I had married her sister.

Ashlynn releases me and slides around me toward Kat, reaching to grasp her arm. "Kat, I know that sounded bad—"

"Don't." Kat's voice is quavering as she quickly steps back. "Just. Don't. Don't lie to me anymore, okay? I can't fucking believe this." She looks at me, her face splotching up with emotion. She's breathing rapidly and holding her wrist where I know she used to wear that rubber band meant to deny me. "I believed you. I really, really fucking did."

Now the horror really sets in. "Whoa, whoa, whoa." I turn in the doorway, putting a hand out to Kat. "You are jumping to the way wrong conclusion." Ashlynn moves forward. Kat steps back again. I move between. "Everybody hold up. There's an explanation—-"

"Yes, there's an explanation," Kat hisses. "The explanation is, I'm an idiot for believing that you two had a platonic marriage. Look at you..." she flings her hands at us. "It's so clear to me now. You guys are so deep in each other's pain. You were both hurt by the same man. How could you not have taken it there? Oh god! This is so fucked up!" She wails into her hands.

She turns and bolts through the house, heading for the front door, with me and Ashlynn on her heels.