The car made a left into our drive, which was basically a short, narrow trail flanked by high shrubs and trees that nearly eclipsed the massive house. Impatiently, I hopped out.
“I’ll see you in a couple hours before the show,” Anthony called after me as I flung the door shut and ran down the front walk and through the double doors.
Loud music filled the entire house. The guys and some of our friends were standing around, hanging out in the large living area that overlooked the pool and sprawling city below, slamming back beers, prepping for the show, voices elevated and boisterous and carefree.
They all froze with the storm that followed me in, my attention going directly to my guys who I knew were anxious for news.
“How’d it go, man?” Ash asked, dropping the beer he had poised at his mouth to his side. Zee’s expression became concerned the second he saw mine. Lyrik chewed at the whole of his bottom lip, like he was biting back whatever he wanted to say, waiting on me to say it first.
I just shook my head and shot for the stairs that led to the upper floor.
I’d fill them in later. Right now, my only concern was my brother.
Austin’s room was at the very end of the right hall, tucked away where I thought he’d be most isolated from the impact of this kind of life.
I didn’t knock on his door, just threw it open.
Startled, Austin flew up to sitting where he’d been lying on his bed, yanking the headphones from his ears. “What happened? Did you get it dropped?”
Without answering him, I stalked across his floor and gripped him by the face, forcing him to look at me. “Tell me what Martin Jennings was doing on our bus that night. No more bullshit, Austin. I need to know.”
Fear clamored through his flinch, and his gaze diverted to the side.
All of this had been weighing heavily on him. Depression had been Austin’s life-partner. Somehow I knew his overdose, and me being hit up with assault charges, ushered in the first time my little brother truly understood the consequences of his depression, and that his actions reached out to touch more than just himself, affecting those around him.
Affecting me.
Because he was what I cared about.
My hands moved to his shoulders, and I shook him. “Goddamn it, Austin, tell me and tell me now. Why the fuck is he spouting shit about both you and Mark? If I’m going to jail for this, at least make it worthwhile,” I begged him, even though it sounded harsh and angry. Really, it was my own fear coming through.
Fear for this kid.
This kid who meant the world to me.
I couldn’t save Julian. Couldn’t save Mark. But if I had to, I’d die saving Austin.
Austin blanched, warily meeting my eyes as he looked up at me where I was towering over him. “I don’t know, Baz. All I know was Mark was in deep. He was getting his supply from some of Jennings’s guys. The night Mark died…” Austin shook as more grief took him over, “he was acting all sketchy…strung out…but different. Paranoid. He kept saying that he messed up. That’s all I know. I swear to you.”
Dread curled through me.
“And why was he on the bus with you?”
Shame streaked across Austin’s face. “Because I was desperate.” The word broke, and his explanation fell from quivering lips. “When you forced me into rehab…I thought…I thought I hated you. Hated that you’d taken from me the one thing that made it feel like I could tolerate this world.”
Sorrow belted me. This amazing kid, who had so much to offer…yet he believed he was nothing at all.