Chapter Five

Adam

Well... Merry-fucking-Christmas to me.

If I’d known how that’s the way my Christmas would go, I’d have kept my happy ass in Nevada. Instead, I spent the whole day fighting to get a flight out of snowy-ass Wisconsin and back to where our tour bus was docked on the other side of the country. Fun.

Shit, I didn’t think that’s how it would’ve gone down when Max found out about me and Chris. He actually swung at me. I knew he’d be mad, sure. I mean, those two are close. I knew that when I first met her and saw them together. They’re twins, for God’s sake, so of course they’re close… but I hadn’t thought he’d actually try to hit me. Yelling, screaming, and threatening, but not violence.

Then again, maybe part of me knew. I had to have known on some level because the more time that passes, the less surprised I am about the way he reacted. I probably would’ve done the same if some guy I thought was my friend turned out to be banging my sister. I knew how protective he was of her, too. I fucking knew and it still didn’t stop me. I went for it, regardless. I’m such a piece of shit.

But I couldn’t help it. It sounds so cliché, but I just couldn’t help it. Chris is gorgeous. She’s every one of my weaknesses rolled up into one perfect package. She’s tall and fit from working a manual job. She has dark hair, lightly sun-kissed skin, bright green eyes, and the fullest lips I’ve ever seen in person. And she’s smart. Jesus, she’s smart. She went to college to be an architect and found out she’d rather restore old buildings instead of creating new ones.

Chris has a biting wit, killer taste in music, the sexiest legs I’ve ever seen, and she turns the most perfect shade of pink when she’s embarrassed. I’m a little proud of my part in that, in fact. I’ve seen her tear guys apart with her sharp tongue, but I say one thing to her and she blushes. Fucking beautiful.

I’ll admit, I’ve never been stuck on a girl before … and I’ve had my fair share. Touring the country and playing all kinds of venues, I’ve come across a decent amount of women, and yeah, I partook. At the risk of sounding like an even bigger dick, I can’t even count how many women I’ve either slept with or fooled around with because I just didn’t care. And yeah, some of them overlapped with Chris when we began our little thing––she dated, too, so I know it wasn’t just me––but for the last couple of years, it’s just been her. I can appreciate a pretty fan in the audience, but they don’t do it for me. No one does anymore, except Chris.

And what do I do? I go and ruin everything. I’ve pushed our luck and thrown a massive wrench into the works.

Guilt is a hell of a thing. Not only do I feel guilty about what I did to Max and Chris, but Mrs. Price, too. That woman didn’t even know me, she invited me to her home with open arms when she just as easily could’ve told me to leave, and I destroyed her holiday with her kids.

The fight was two days ago, and I keep thinking about her sitting me down in the kitchen. That was one of the most awkward things I’ve had to do in a long time. I actually felt like I was five years old being scolded by my own mother for something horrible. That woman’s power is incredible. She’s terrifying.

I guess that’s why I ended up telling her the truth. I didn’t mean to, it just came out when she asked. Good thing I was smart enough not to say I’ve boffed her daughter repeatedly through the years. I’m sure she heard the whole fight, so she probably knows, but I told her for how long Chris and I had been ‘together’, and how I actually felt about the whole thing. I’d only known the lady for twenty-four hours at that point, and I still somehow spilled my guts.

Jesus, I told Cynthia how I really feel about Chris. Why’d I do that? Better yet, why did I give Chris a ring? Why did I sit there and design that fucking thing, put her birthstone in it, and actually give it to her?

Never mind. I know why. I’ve known for nearly a year. I almost told Cynthia what I still can’t even admit to myself. Instead I only managed to say, I care about her. That’s better, kind of. It’s not entirely true, though. I more than care about Chris, and I have for a long time.

And then I get those messages from her yesterday while I was at the airport. Jesus Christ, those ripped my heart out. At first, I was so happy she liked the ring. I didn’t know how she’d react to jewelry, so when I got her text, I was elated. But my dumb ass had to press my luck again. I just had to ask if we were through or not, and like I knew she would, she said yes. That killed me. I didn’t want her to confirm my fears, but she did, and it fucking broke my heart.

Shit, I’m screwed.

Now that I’m out of the Cheese-Head State (actually, it’s The Badger State and I don’t know how the hell I know that), and I’m sitting alone on the bus, I do my best to relax. It’s not really working. I keep thinking about Chris no matter how hard I try not to, but I have another, more immediate problem. God only knows how bad it’ll be once Max makes his way back. I don’t know if he’ll yell again, try to swing at me, or if he’ll even show up. He told me he wanted out of the band, so he might not even come back and leave us in the lurch for the rest of the tour.

The disgusting hole in my chest keeps growing while I lazily strum my acoustic. I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do in any regard of my life at the moment, and the only thing that’s ever helped is music.

The sun sets while I’m still lost in my head. A while ago I started to think of a new song, so I’m grateful for the minor reprieve, but it doesn’t last. Out of nowhere, the door to the bus opens and to my surprise, Max steps on.

Our eyes meet and I can see he’s still agitated, but he doesn’t react. He doesn’t really do anything for a minute or two. Eventually, he finishes his trek up the stairs and closes the door behind him. He’s got his bag slung over his shoulder, so I assume he’s planning to stay, but I don’t really want to ask. I don’t want to jinx it.

I keep my eyes on him as he walks by and to the bunks at the back of the bus. He tosses his stuff onto his cot and when another fight doesn’t immediately break out, I decide to go back to my guitar. I continue to strum the strings for a little while until I notice a shadow appear in my periphery. Looking up, I see Max standing in front of me. He’s completely blank.

“Hey, ma––”

I don’t get the greeting out before he throws a punch that actually connects with my cheekbone. I know it’s not as hard as he can hit, but damn, it hurts.

“Shit!” I yell as I clutch my throbbing face. The pain is slow to come, but when it does, it’s dizzying. My head feels like it wants to explode, like I have the worst hangover migraine in the world, but through the ache, I notice he hasn’t tried again. Still holding my cheek, I look at him through my one good eye.

“We good?” I ask sarcastically.

He takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out before saying, “Yeah.” He takes a half-step back and falls into the seat across from me. “We’re good.”

“Good,” I nod sharply.

For a few minutes, I can’t help but rub my face. I don’t know if it’ll bruise, but it might. If so, that’s going to be a fun story to tell Jason and Tommy.

“So,” Max finally says.

“So,” I repeat.

An unspoken understanding passes between us. Max has gotten his point across and he knows it. By holding back, Max gave me a warning shot, but he made it count, wanting me to know exactly how pissed he is. Fair enough. Now I know. “If it makes you feel any better,” I say with a sigh, “it’s over now.” Saying it out loud hurts as much as reading it.

I’d gone there with a purpose, too. Damn. As stupid as it sounds now, I kind of hoped Max would invite me along just so I could be around Chris because I––and I can’t believe I’m even thinking these words––wanted to woo her. It might have only been for a couple of days, but I wanted to show Chris how much fun it could be if we took whatever it is we had to the next level, and started an actual relationship. Because that’s what I wanted. It’s what I still want. I want a relationship with Chris. I want her to be mine.

Yeah, that’s working out really well. Great plan.

“Over?” Max asks with a deadpan voice. I nod lazily. “That why you bought her a ring for Christmas?”

Shit.