Page 15 of Once Upon a Boyband
“Quite a few times,” Adam says. “Though, mostly right at first when I was trying to set everything up. I hadn’t really worked with dogs before I started the rescue, so I had a lot to learn.”
“Really?” I ask. “What were you doing before this?”
Adam immediately looks away, his change in body language so dramatic that I can practically see the wall he’sthrown up between us. “Not much,” he says, eyes looking out at the horizon. “This was…a new start for me.”
Okay. Adam does not like to talk about his past. Noted.
“When did you get Goldie?” I ask, hoping that at least his dog won’t be off limits. “Was she a rescue?”
His expression warms the slightest bit, but there’s still a distance in his eyes. “She was my mom’s dog, actually. I’ve had her for…going on eight years now?”
Washis mom’s dog. I bite my lip. “You lost your mom?”
His eyes briefly meet mine before darting away. “Cancer,” he says gruffly.
“I’m sorry.”
He’s quiet for a beat before he says, “Thanks.”
He clears his throat once, then turns and walks toward the barn.
At the door, he lifts his fingers to his lips and lets out a loud whistle. Slowly, the dogs head inside, and Adam makes quick work of ushering them into their respective kennels. Together, we check to make sure everyone has plenty of water and looks settled for the evening, then we’re back outside and climbing onto the Gator.
Adam hasn’t said anything else since we talked about his mom, and the silence is starting to feel awkward, but I’m afraid to say anything for fear of making thingsmoreawkward.
It’s only going to get worse, though, so I finally blurt, “Did I make it weird by asking about your mom? I’m sorry if I did.”
Adam sighs and his expression softens. “If anything, I made it weird. There’s no reason youshouldn’thave asked. I’m just…not very good at talking about her.”
“I get that,” I say. “I don’t understand exactly what it must feel like. But I can imagine.”
He pulls up in front of the house and cuts the ignition. “I keep waiting for it to get easier. Eight years should feel like a long time, but sometimes, it feels like it just happened.” He shakes his head as he climbs out of the Gator. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make things so heavy.”
“Don’t apologize. I asked, and I’m glad you told me.”
I wait outside while Adam runs in to grab his spare key, then we’re back in my car heading down the Hope Acres driveway. I worry it might be hard to talk again after the serious turn in our conversation, but Adam starts telling me a story about a stray pit bull he found at the end of his driveway who refused to leave with him until he followed her a quarter mile down the road to her litter of puppies.
That story leads to another, then another, and we talk easily, any lingering awkwardness between us dissipating completely.
My only complaint is the curvy mountain road we’re driving on, because it keeps me from looking over at Adam while he talks.
Learning to drive in Hendersonville—much larger, far less remote—was hard enough. But Lawson Cove takes things to a completely new level. There are no shoulders and no curbs, at least not outside of the two square miles that make up downtown. There are often steep grades going up or down the side of the mountain on either side of the road—sometimes both. There are blind curves, random driveways, not to mention a magnitude of squirrels and turtles and bears and deer that love to cross the road seconds before you approach.
I grip the steering wheel, eyes on the road as Adam asks me question after question. About my family, my hobbies, my friendship with Percy, what it’s like working with my dad. He even asks about karaoke night at Shady Pines.
Somehow, Adam makes me forget that I don’t actually like talking about myself. Or even talking in general. He makes me want to open up—at least when it comes to him—and that’s not a compliment I give lightly.
I’m just finishing a story about my little sister Sophie and her social media following—she plays covers of popular songs on her violin and has built a decent fan base—when I pull into the parking lot of my office. “So basically, my little sister is the exact opposite ofme,” I say.
“Not looking to be a star, huh?”
“Are you kidding? There are very few things I wouldn’t choose to do over intentionally putting myself in front of an audience. Dental surgery. Pap smear.”
“Fifi’s anal gland expression?” Adam says through a grin.
I shift the car into park and suck in a breath. “Ohhh, now you’re making it hard on me. Can it be a very small audience?”
He laughs. “Thanks again for your help today, Laney. Is it weird that I’m really glad I locked my keys in my car?”
