Page 88 of Once Upon a Boyband
“It’s my fault,” Freddie says. “Or Kevin’s fault, mostly. But Kevin ismyagent, so I still feel responsible. But I swear, Laney, I didn’t know they were going to book more shows. They said they might, but I thought we would have the chance to talk about it first. That I could convince Adam?—”
“Freddie, you know how big it is that he agreed in the first place.”
“I know. But I just thought once we started singing again, he would realize how much he loves it. He’s so good at it. Why is he so against it?”
I hesitate before answering. Adam and I have talkedaroundthe issue enough that I feel like I have a pretty good idea. On the surface, it’s easy. He doesn’t love the attention. But in ordinary circumstances, I think he’d deal with that to be able to sing. He loves the music enough that he would. But as long as he blames the fame for keeping him away from his mom, he won’t want to. I’m not sure if it's fear or resentment, but I’m sure the feelings are deep and tangled and more complicated than either Freddie or I can sort out in one phone call. “Freddie, he lost his mom. You know that’s a part of what’s going on.”
“I know.Geez.I know you’re right. But if I could have just talked to him before Kevin showed up. Tried to explain.”
“Did he leave in his car? Or did he just walk off into the woods?” The question sounds stupid when I say it out loud, but given Adam’s track record, it feels like something I have to ask.
“No, he drove. Packed up all his stuff and just…left.”
I sigh. “I hope he’s okay.”
“Jace said some stuff,” Freddie says, his voice softer now. “He’s clearly going through some stuff with his marriage, but…it wasn’t good, Laney. I doubt he meant everything that came out of his mouth. I have to hope he didn’t. But I’m not surprised it made Adam run.”
From the floor beside the bed, Goldie perks up, ears lifted as she stands and turns toward the door.
Voices sound on the stairs, my mom’s, then a deeper one I immediately recognize.
“Freddie, I have to go. I’ll call you back.”
I hang up just seconds before my mom knocks once, then swings open my bedroom door. “Hey,” she says, eyes wide. “You have a visitor.”
Adam comes into the room, and Goldie rushes over tohim, tail wagging. He crouches down to greet her. When he stands and finally looks over at me, I have no idea what to say. How to act. Should I tell him Freddie called? Should I act like nothing happened?
No.I can’t do that. I can’t lie.
Behind Adam, Mom slowly closes the door, leaving us alone in my bedroom.
I swallow against the knot in my throat. “Adam, what happened?”
He doesn’t say anything, he just moves across the room and drops onto the end of the bed, leaning forward so his elbows are propped on his knees.
“Did someone call you?” he eventually asks.
“Freddie. Just now. He didn’t say much. Just that you…left.”
He nods, but he doesn’t look up. “Sorry to show up like this,” he says.
I scoot closer on the bed and lift a hand to his shoulders. “It’s fine. Of course it’s fine. Actually…how did you find me?” He knew I was in Hendersonville, but I didn’t give him an address.
He tilts his head toward Goldie. “She has an AirTag on her collar. I can trace it with my phone.”
Huh.I guess that’s one way to find me.
“I would have given you the address,” I say.
“No, I know. I was just kind of in a panic and wasn’t thinking right.” He presses his forehead into the palm of his hand. “I’m still not thinking right, actually. I just came to pick up Goldie so I can go home.”
My heart sinks.So he tracked Goldie instead of calling because he didn’t come here to see me. He only came here forher.
When I don’t respond, Adam finally looks over. I’m not sure what he can see on my face. Fear? Confusion? Uncertainty? Maybe all three? Whatever it is, it prompts him to reach over and pull me into a hug. I sink into his embrace, but there’s a stiffness to it that feels different. He’s hugging me because he realizes he should, but he isn’tpresent.It feels like his mind is a million miles away.
When he leans back from the hug, he looks around the room, as if realizing where he is for the first time.
“This was your bedroom,” he says, a statement, not a question, as his eyes move from one wall to the next.
