Page 106 of Once Upon a Boyband
“Sarah, was Mom really mad when I didn’t come home?”
She takes a deep breath, studying my face. “It’s not like she knew when she was gonna die. Like you’d missed the deadline or something. She was just trying to hang on long enough for you to make it.”
I shake my head. “I’ve relived those last couple of months so many times. Gone over the conversations I had with Kevin, with the label. I just kept saying over and over that I needed to go, that she was sick, that she might not make it. And they all just kept reassuring me, telling me everything was going to be fine. Thatshewould be fine. And I think I believed them because it was easier than believing I’d lose her.”
“I know,” Sarah says. “I was mad at you for a really long time. But I get it. We were both just kids, Adam. We weren’tsupposed to navigate stuff like that by ourselves.” She nudges my knee with her toe from where she’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch. “You have to let it go now.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means stop beating yourself up. Forgive yourself, already. Go be in your stupid boyband and love your freaking amazing girlfriend andbe happy.”
Her words trigger a reaction deep in my gut, something swirling and light that lifts and pushes up, but then a familiar sense of panic quickly stomps it back down again. “I can’t, Sarah. I can’t let Kevin push me around like he did. I can’t go back to other people making choices for me.”
“Okay,” she says dryly, like I’m missing something incredibly obvious. “So get a different agent who representsyourbest interests. Or, I don’t know, just be a grownup and advocate for yourself. Set your terms. Tell them what you’re willing to do, and then don’t budge. It doesn’t have to be one extreme or the other. Be your own boss. Make your own destiny! Captain your own ship!”
“I got it. Stop with the metaphors.”
“Good. Cause I couldn’t really think of a fitting fourth one.” She tosses the throw pillow she’s been holding at my head and stands. “I’ve got to go home. This was fun. Please tell Laney you love her so she’ll stay with us forever.”
“I’ll get right on that,” I say.
“So, just in case you really might think about it,” Sarah says from the door where she’s slipping on her shoes. “Midnight Rush has not announced that youwon’tbe at the concert. As far as everyone knows, you’ll still be there.”
“But the schedule—they’ve already started doing press.”
“And so far, they’ve done it all individually.” She shrugs. “You know Freddie. With his optimism, he’s probably holding out hope you’ll still change your mind.”
Thatdoessound like Freddie.
The big idiot. He really does have a way of getting what he wants.
But maybe this time, it will be what I want too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Laney
I don’t knowif Adam is the one who preprogrammed my puppy to wake up at six forty-five every single morning, even on weekends, but I could set my watch by this puppy’s schedule. So far, we’re twelve for twelve. Twelve mornings at my house. Twelve wake-ups at six forty-five from Ringo’s tiny bark, at which time he wants to cuddle and eat breakfast and pee and chew on my underwear all at the same time.
“You’re killing me here, Ringo,” I say as I roll out of bed and crawl toward his crate. “Why so early, huh?”
He answers with a tiny yip and a tail wag, which, on Ringo, is more like a whole butt wag.
“Fine. You’re adorable,” I say. “I forgive you.”
I unlatch his crate and scoop him up so we can race outside. I still don’t trust him enough not to squat the second he’s loose, but I do trust him not to pee in my arms.
As soon as we’re out the back door, I plop him in the grass, then cheer like only a proud dog mom can when heimmediately squats and pees. He runs back to me, little butt wiggling again, and I give him all the praises and hugs and cuddles for being the very best boy.
I feel a sudden impulse to text Adam and tell him how well Ringo is doing sleeping through the night, but I swallow it down. It’s been almost a week since I dropped off my Midnight Rush scrapbooks at his house, and I haven’t heard from him since.
Well, that’s not entirely true. He texted me the morning after, thanking me again, and said he was going to take a few days to work through some things, and he didn’t want me to worry if I didn’t hear from him.
I haven’t worried.
Not really.
But I have been anxious to know how he’s doing.
