His face was a mask. He continued to watch me.
"I'm crazy about her," I said quickly, trying to wrap my head around the idea. "We have so many other memories together. So much good stuff from the tour. I don't get how my mind would just focus on that one night. It's stupid. "
This got arched eyebrows from Dr. Feinstein, but that was it.
My stomach rolled over. "I don't know what I'm going to do if she's what's fucking me up. Riley's all I have right now. How could she be the one causing all this?"
Dr. Feinstein scribbled something quickly on his pad and then put the pad down and leaned forward. "Jax, how would you describe your relationship with Riley since the night you aggravated your condition?"
I glared at him but he just stared back. I didn't like where this was going. "I don't know. She's amazing. I don't know how she puts up with my shit sometimes. Especially lately."
"Do you two spend a lot of time together?"
"I guess."
He nodded, but said nothing more. A full minute ticked by, and with each tick I felt more frustration. Finally, I couldn't keep it in anymore.
"You really think she's it, don't you? You think Riley's my trigger."
He looked at his watch. "I think sometimes the answers to these questions are difficult and not at all what we want to hear. I'm sorry, Jax. I know this is very difficult. In any case, that's just about all the time we have today. I think you've made tremendous progress."
My breathing was ragged. "Wait. What do you think I should do?"
He pressed his lips together. "Someone with a condition like yours, in the constant presence of their trigger, is very likely to act erratically."
His words stung like an angry hornet's nest. "So I'm a time bomb?"
He shook his head. "You're not a bomb, Jax. Please don't think about it that way. It isn't healthy."
"Fine," I said, my heart sinking. "Let me ask you point blank: do you think I need to break up with Riley?"
He looked over at the clock again before returning his gaze to mine. "I'm sorry, Jax, but we really are out of time. There are no easy answers for this, and you don't have to decide today. Just be conscious of the consequences of whatever decision you make. For yourself, and for everyone around you."
I looked at him, my stomach a lead weight. He returned my gaze impassively, until I couldn't take it anymore.
I got up and trudged out. What the hell was I going to do now?
***
Forty-five minutes ago
Anarchy Fest. It was our final show. We were supposed to go out with a bang. But the crowd was angry. And if they were angry, then I was angry. This wasn't a good day to ask me to put up with people's shit.
After some douchebag yelled out "you suck!" as we started our first song, I gave him the middle finger before rocking out on my guitar. The crowd roared, and I tore into the song. I put everything I had into my solo, but I still heard a "fuck you" sail out from the audience.
That fucking did it. I snarled a stream of profanity into my mic and ended the song with a bang. That should've been enough, but I couldn't stop myself.
"So this is Ventura, huh?" I shouted. "It fucking sucks!" The crowd howled with anger. I looked over at Sky, who mouthed "what are you doing" at me. I shrugged and turned my attention back to the mic. After a few clacks from Chewie, we were into the second song.
But then I saw something terrifying. Fire.
My palms began to sweat. Fuck, was I hallucinating again? Like the morning after I sleepwalked?
That was when I caught Darrel out of the corner of my eye. He was at the edge of the crowd, and it was only for an instant, but I saw him.
Or thought I saw him? Was I losing my mind?
I blinked and refocused myself on the song, strumming my guitar with vicious strokes. But I could still see fire out of the corner of my eye. I took a deep breath. No way was I letting my fucking PTSD ruin this show by freaking out on stage.
My eyes scanned the crowd and saw a mosh pit developing in the front. To the left, I saw something that scared me.
Riley.
Her eyes were wide with panic and she was pointing at me. At the stage. The crowd around her was totally fired up, churning into a frenzy.
My stomach dropped. God, Riley, get out of there.
The heat behind me was blazing. I saw some flames down by my feet.
Sky screamed something at me. Distantly, I heard the rest of the band stop playing. But I couldn't stop. My fingers kept flying across my fretboard, pulling out note after note.
As I played, my eyes flew back up again to where I'd seen Riley. I was just in time to watch her fall in the crowd. She was immediately surrounded by a herd of people. They had their backs to me.
Wait, what? My fingers came to a sudden halt.
"Jax!" Sky yelled from somewhere, "Get off the stage! It's burning!"
I swiveled my head over my shoulder and somehow everything snapped back into focus. Fire tore at the ceiling and down the sides of the stage. This was no hallucination. The stage really was on fire.
A sinking feeling shivered through my body. What the hell was going on with me? I shook my head and looked out into the fleeing crowd.
Riley was in there somewhere.
I needed to get to her. With a start, I unslung my guitar from my shoulder before tossing it aside and hopping off the stage. Riley—I couldn't let her get hurt. Gritting my teeth, I forced my way through the crowd. If I lost her, I'd lose everything.
***
Five minutes ago
My heart thundered in my chest as I scanned the area frantically. She wasn't there.
It had taken me a few minutes to shove my way through the crowd to where Riley had fallen, and by the time I had gotten there she was gone.
Now I didn't know what to do.
In a panic, I made my way toward a security guy in a yellow jacket.
I grabbed his arm. "I saw someone fall when I was on stage. Have you seen her?"
The security guy tore his arm away from my grip. He opened his mouth, probably to tell me to fuck off, but something in my face made him stop. "Strawberry blonde?" he said gruffly. "Yeah. She should be headed to the medical tent."
"Is she hurt?" I asked breathlessly.
He shrugged. "Don't think so."
Without another word I turned and began making my way to the medical tent. With the huge crowd of people to fight my way through, it took me twenty minutes to get there. Every minute of it was pure torture. What if that guard was wrong and Riley was seriously hurt? If she was, it was all my fucking fault.
My brain went into overdrive as I walked. I needed to get myself together. Pissing off that crowd, knowing in the back of my mind that Riley was there, had been stupid. Idiotic. Insane.