Page 46 of The Chance

Definitely new.

All of which is nothing like what has happened every other night since we’ve been on the road. Normally, he listens. Walks his ass back to the bed or a couch and settles down.

“Mac,” I whisper, that gaze of his searing right through me. Unseeing. “Can we sit? Will you do that?”

No change.

“How about some water. Let’s get some water.” I have no clue if it’ll do anything. I’ve officially hit the extent of the research I did and while I don’t want to give him something to throw, I also know that trying to do anything else is basically asking for another broken nose.Best case.

When I turn away to find a bottle of water, he follows, trips over the bed, and falls face first into the mattress with the shredded pillow pinned beneath him.

I let out a giant breath, relief washing over me only to halt when he speaks some kind of gibberish. It gets thicker, more jumbled as I work closer, almost like a plea.

Real tears leak through his squeezed eyelids, and he lets loose the smallest, most gut-wrenching whimper that has me dialing before I can think it through.

“Peach?”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” I whisper, Mac’s voice echoing mine with more marble-filled phrases that don’t make sense except one.

“Jordan,” he cries softly, his frame shaking with the emotion.

Jordan’s end of the line goes silent and then, “Put me on speaker.”

Chills rack over me with the demanding tone and suddenly, I feel like an intruder in whatever relationship these two think they don’t have. Like a man between a man and what’s his.

Doing as he asks, I press the little speaker option and set the phone next to Mac’s head.

“Stress makes it worse. It’ll help if you get in with him—”

“No,” I whisper-snap.

“—but for the love of God, keep your hands where I cansee them,” Jordan growls–legit growls!–and my hands shoot up on instinct.

“This is a fucking phone call, jackass,” I murmur back but again, do as he asks and climb into the bed with the sleep-talking, sleepwalking rock star.

I give them my back in hopes of some semblance of fucked up privacy as Jordan starts talking into the open space.

Mac still trembles against me, but the deep, guttural sobs have stopped.

There’s a moment of silence that stretches, free of mumbles, and I turn my head the tiniest bit to see that Mac has started to unfurl from his fetal position. Legs just curled up instead of tucked into his chest, his arms laying loosely around the phone.

“Stay there,” Jordan demands into the phone. “Soft snores mean he’s out for the night.”Oh, he’s talking to me.

“I’m sorry I calle—”

“Promiseme you’ll stay with him,” he rasps and my heart breaks at the vulnerability shining through.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“I’ll see you in twelve hours.”

These two are idiots.

Chapter Thirty-One

Mac

“God fucking dammit,” Igrumble and smack my lips to work away the shitty bitter taste left behind. “What is that?”

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