Page 243 of Silver Sweet

He nods like I just told him my horoscope for the day.

“You already knew?” I ask in shock.

“Not entirely, but I thought you might have been on a stimulant,” he says. “Your pupils have been dilated more than once at dinner.”

“Great. Yeah.” I thread my fingers through my hair. “Mom knows?”

He nods again. “Are you abusing it?”

“It’s not a prescription.”

“So you are, Tom.” His tone is placid and tinged with disappointment. “That would be a yes.”

“Oui, oui,” I say dryly and throw up my hands. “I want to stop, if that makes a difference. Idowant to stop. I just don’t know how when this is helping the band.”

My dream has always felt too fragile. A tiny kindling of smoke and flame. Ready to die out with one little gust. I’ve just now begun building a small fire. How do I let go without feeling like I’ve choked oxygen from it? Killed it. Destroyed it.

“I assume you’re taking it to stay awake then,” he says into a sip of coffee.

He’s so calm. This discussion is literally setting me ablaze. I can’t stand still. I start to pace in front of the phone. “Assumptions would be correct. It’s a net positive. Overall benefit. I’ve gotten a lot done with the extra hours.”

“What’s been the cost?”

“Not much.” I’m off screen and glaring at the ceiling. Hands on my head.

“Tom, come back in frame,” he says gently. “Please.”

I wince and then sidestep so he can see me.

His blues infiltrate my guarded walls. Sincerity and love stare back at me. “What’s been the cost?” he asks again.

My palms remain on my head to keep my lungs open. It’s the only way I’m going to keep breathing through this painful exercise. “I’m hurting Phoenix,” I admit. “Like it hurtsso badknowing how much I’m hurting him. I can feel myself gettingcloser and closer to putting him in a position where he’d consider giving me an ultimatum. Quit Adderall or he quits the band.” I shake my head. “And I would be devastated if I pushed him there.”

“So don’t.”

I laugh, a pained laugh. “Right, yeah. So easy. Thanks for the advice, Dad.” I flip him off.

He tilts his head, completely unbothered by me. “Did you call me for a bedtime story?” He arches a brow at the rhetorical question. “If you want a softer answer or someone to placate you, you can call your brother.” He’s referring to Eliot.

“Dude, I’m like ten seconds from hanging up on you.”

“Do it,” he says casually into another sip of coffee.

I hate that. He knows how competitive I am. I legit cannot hang up on him now. Fuck me. And do I even want to end this call without resolution? I need real help.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Okay, let’s rewind.”

“Let’s do that,” he says. “Let’s go back to where you said you want to stop taking Adderall.”

I wince. “You know, I’ve heard your pep talks with Ben, and they aren’t even a fraction this aggravating.”

“He’s not abusing a stimulant,” my dad says bluntly. “He’s also notyou.” That’s fair. And my dad understands I respond better to tough love than a gentle hand.

“I don’t know how to explain this.” I let out a frustrated breath. “But it feels dream-ruining to stop taking it.”

“Your fears are just fears,” he tells me. “Your dreams won’t end without a drug.”

I groan. “You don’t know that.”