Chapter 7

Tommy

I came awake slowly,trying to get my bearings.

Where the hell was I?

I reached up to rub my eyes and found one arm attached to an IV.

Suddenly it all came rushing back.

The semi fishtailing on the freeway.

Hitting that damn Tesla hard enough for both me and my bike to get airborne.

Hitting the ground even harder.

And pain.

There had been so much fucking pain in my leg.

The doctors had given me something for it when I got to the ER, and then it had been lights out.

I must have made a noise because there was movement beside the bed.

“Hey. Welcome back.” Z was sitting on the chair next to my bed.

“Hey.” I looked around. “What happened?”

“You had an accident.”

“Yeah, I know that much. How bad am I hurt?”

“You’re a lucky SOB,” he said, meeting my gaze with a frown. “You’ve got first degree road rash on your shoulder, and one small spot that’s second degree. Other than that, you dislocated your knee. They put it back in place and you’re going to need to do some rehab to build up the strength in it again, but that’s it. Overall, nothing permanent.”

“What about my bike?”

He sighed. “Probably totaled.”

“Fuck.”

“Dude, you could have died!”

“It wasn’t my fault!” I snapped. “The fucking semi fishtailed. I couldn’t get out of the way.”

“They said you were probably going ninety.”

“And?”

“If you’d been going a normal, legal speed, you might have been able to avoid it. Unless avoiding it wasn’t the plan.” He eyed me.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I demanded.

“You tell me. There’s video, Tom. You were driving like a fucking lunatic, practically drag racing with that Maserati, and I know you’re usually a safe driver.”

“So, what? You think I got into an accident on purpose? Why the hell would I do something like that?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“You haven’t been the same since Carter died. We all took it hard, but you seem to be struggling more than the rest of us. I don’t know what to think. Especially since you only went to the one group therapy session, even though the rest of us continued with it for a few months.”

Christ.

The last thing I needed tonight was a fucking lecture.

I hadn’t gone to any other therapy sessions because I hadn’t felt like it would do anything. What was the point of talking about Carter ad nauseum? He’d killed himself and left us trying to find a way to fill that void, both personally and professionally. No amount of therapy was going to make that better.

Of course, it might have worked better if I’d actually given it a chance.

Not that I’d admit that to Z.

“Therapy isn’t for me,” I said finally.

“Maybe it should be.”

“Did you come here to bust my balls?”

“I came to make sure you were okay, fuck-face. Busting your balls is just a bonus.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever, man.”

“The rest of the guys were here earlier, but we were drawing too much attention, so everyone else split. I’ve been updating them. Not to mention, Sasha and Dorian and Casey. That video and the accident are all over the news, so we’re going to have to make a statement.”

“Fuck.”

There was movement in the doorway and a soft knock.

A familiar face peeked in. “Hey, there. Can I come in?”

“Hey, Wynter.” My ex-sister-in-law was a nurse and I thought I’d briefly seen her in the E.R. before I passed out. “Come on in.”

“I just wanted to check on you.” She came to the bed and leaned over to give me a gentle hug.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” I nodded. Just because her sister and I were divorced didn’t mean I had to be a jerk to Wynter. She’d always been sweet, and I’d thought of her as my sister too. One of many things I’d lost when Harley left me.

“Hey, Z.” She hugged Z next and they exchanged a few pleasantries. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her if Harley knew about the accident, but that was probably stupid. If it was on the news, Harley knew.

“You were very lucky,” Wynter said, trying to be stern, although the smile playing on her lips made it difficult to take her admonishment seriously.

“I already got the lecture from Z,” I told her. “But it wasn’t my fault.”

“The video is everywhere and even though you didn’t cause the accident, you could have been very badly hurt at the speed you were going. Once that yellow car hit you, there was nowhere for you to go. If you’d been driving slower, you might have been able to navigate around it.”

“I’m a safe driver,” I protested. “I couldn’t know that semi was going to spin out.”

“The footage is terrifying, Tommy.”

“Let me see if I can find it,” Z said, doing something on his phone.

I had a feeling this was going to make me look bad, but I hadn’t been trying to hurt myself or anyone else.

Had I?

Was the speed and recklessness some sort of bullshit subconscious cry for attention?

Jesus, just thinking that made me uncomfortable.

“Here.” Z thrust his phone at me, and I watched the big eighteen-wheeler fishtailing all over again. Then I saw myself, and it was a little eerie to watch what I’d been doing. How fast I’d been going. Weaving in and out of traffic at a ridiculous speed. Not that anything would have changed the outcome. I hadn’t been responsible for what happened to the semi, but I could have—I should have—been a more responsible and defensive driver. My speed had undoubtedly added to the chaos.

“I’m really tired,” I muttered, handing him back his phone.

“Well, now that I know you’re going to be okay, I’m gonna head home,” Z said, his dark eyes intense as he looked at me. “You need to rest and then we need to talk.”

“All right.”

What else could I say?

“They couldn’t find your phone when they brought you in, so I ordered you a new one and I’ll bring it to you in the morning.”

“Thanks, man.” I held out my hand and he gripped it tightly.

“You scared the fuck out of us,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry.”

I meant it.

I was a fuck-up sometimes, but after what had happened to Carter, I would never intentionally worry my friends.

“You should call your dad,” Wynter said. “I’m sure he’s been trying to reach you.”

Fuck.

I hadn’t even thought about my dad or brother. We usually only spoke once a year or so. Dad didn’t approve of my lifestyle, though he certainly hadn’t minded me paying off his mortgage or buying him a new truck. We just had nothing in common anymore and talking to them was stressful.

“Would you…” I turned to Z. “Could you reach out for me? Explain that I’m fine but my phone is trashed, and I’ll call tomorrow once you bring me the new one?”

Z nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll let you rest,” Wynter said once Z was gone. “I just wanted to check in.”

“Are you working tonight?” I asked her.

“No, but I came in when we heard about the accident and stuck around until you woke up.”

“You’re a good sister-in-law,” I said softly.

She smirked. “I know.”

I chuckled. “Any idea when I’m getting out of here?”

“Your doctor will be by in the morning.”

“I don’t even know what to do. We’re supposed to finish the album this week and start rehearsing for the tour.”

“Maybe this is a sign that you need to slow down. The universe might be trying to tell you something.”

Our eyes met and I wondered if she knew about last night with Harley.

“The universe has a shitty sense of humor,” I said.

“Sometimes it’s about what you need instead of what you want.”

What the hell did that even mean?

She paused, as if she had something more to say.

“What?” I asked. “You might as well say whatever it is that’s on your mind.”

“There are places you can go to get help. If nothing else, find a therapist.”

I frowned, getting irritated. “What makes you think I need help?”

“Because no matter how you rationalize the way you were driving, deep down you know you were reckless. The way you and Harley went at it the other night was also reckless. There’s a lot of reckless in your life and at some point, it’s going to catch up to you. So why not deal with whatever’s going on while you’re rehabbing the knee? Whether it’s lingering emotional issues stemming from Carter’s death, getting some closure from the divorce, whatever. You have to stop sweeping it under the rug, Tommy.”

I opened my mouth to snap at her but couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“I appreciate your advice,” I said cautiously. “But you don’t know a damn thing about what I’ve been dealing with.”

“I know that you slept with your ex-wife last night and left her physically bruised and emotionally battered,” she responded in an even tone. “I understand it was consensual. However, what happened last night wasn’t healthy. Not for you and definitely not for her.”

I didn’t say anything because I was too groggy to dig into what she was trying to tell me. However, I didn’t like hearing that I’d left bruises on Harley. I hadn’t given the physical parts of what we’d done a second thought. Other than the hickey, I hadn’t realized I’d left bruises.

And now I felt like shit.

“Tell her I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“You should tell her yourself.” She slipped out of the room without another word.

Leaving me more confused and frustrated than ever.