Forty-Eight

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James drove away quickly, most likely to check on Petula. While she was still stressed out, she seemed to deal with it better than before. It had to be because of James. Based on what I knew about their relationship dynamic, he was always going to be there to protect her and help her make the healthier choices. I wanted that sort of relationship as well, just without the whole 'daddy' aspect.

The front door opened as I was heading back inside, and Devon walked out. "I think I should head home. I texted Rena I was here, but she was asleep when I left."

"Does she not usually like to be left alone?"

"She doesn't mind it, but, you know, it's the middle of the night. She's probably a little more scared than she would be in the morning." He patted my arm. "I'll check on you in the morning."

"I'm really sorry for freaking you out," I blurted. He stopped on his way to the car and faced me. "I didn't think you'd be here tonight, but I'm really glad you are."

"I felt like I was about to have a panic attack the moment Jeanie told me what happened," he admitted. "It was like someone pressed the pause button on my life. Everything stopped, and I rushed straight over here. When I saw James carry you inside, you looked like you were dead."

My heart ached, and I shoved my hands in my pockets. "I'm sorry."

"I feel like I can't be mad, since I know you're stubborn about your music and completely determined to prove yourself every chance you get, but... I can't help but be mad. Mel, you could have injured yourself a lot worse than you did. For all you know, you could have died."

"Okay, I am not going to die from fatigue."

"Why, you're going to die with a big bang or something?" he mocked. "Isn't that what happened when your head hit your drum?" he exclaimed. "I get you want to prove yourself. I get that you can't be easily persuaded to stop playing when you think you can, but sometimes, the people around you actually have valid points. James said he could tell you were off all night. You have been exhausted and overworked for weeks. You don't sleep well anymore. And yet when people handed you a lifeline, you pushed it away."

"I can't help it, Devon," I snapped. "My music means the world to me. I wasn't at my limit when he told me he wanted me to stop."

"But don't you think you should stop before you meet your limit?"

"No. It's called a limit for a reason. That's where you stop and draw the line. I had a signal. I was going to play it. I passed out before I could. Life happens sometimes."

"This isn't a 'life happens sometimes' situation," he cried out. "Don't you get it, Mel? You are putting your music before yourself to the point where you are refusing to accept help when you need it."

I looked away from him.

"You put your life at risk tonight. I mean it, you could have died."

"That would be incredibly unlikely."

"That's not the point!" he snapped. "Do you not understand what I am trying to say?"

"I do," I stated, as I looked back up at him. "You're telling me I fucked up, and I know I did. But music is my life. It's the most important thing in my life. It's my number one. Not family. Not friends. My drumming always comes first, even before myself. I get that it's not healthy, but after years and years of dreaming of being part of a band, I am finally part of one. They want me. They like me a lot. I am proving myself to them every day, and sometimes that means I have to sacrifice myself for the sake of my band. I don't always like doing it, but I refuse to let anything stand between me and my music."

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