Code Red, page 10
I wanted to follow him, but for what purpose? So I could lie to him some more?
I wasn’t sure I could stomach that.
After about five minutes of just standing there, I took out my phone and sent him a text. I am in your corner. We’ll talk in the morning.
He didn’t reply. I didn’t expect him to. The mood he was in, he’d be more inclined to knock on my door and throw his phone at me.
He didn’t do that either.
So I had a steaming hot shower, climbed into bed, and stared at the ceiling for hours.
I thumped my alarm, cursing 5:30 am for the hell it was. After not near enough sleep, I sat up on the edge of my bed and checked to see if Maddox had replied.
He hadn’t.
So I hit the hotel gym and tried jogging on the treadmill to see if that made me feel better. It didn’t. Sprinting didn’t either. Punching the shit out of the punching bag helped, but that hollow, heavy feeling in my chest didn’t let up.
Steve and a few of the other security guys were in the gym too, but they kept their distance, and for that I was glad. I wasn’t in the mood for any bullshit about how Maddox never took his eyes off me today.
There was no concert today, but our schedule was still full. Photoshoots, interviews, promotional shit all day long. But the boys got to sleep in . . . until eight thirty anyway. So after I’d showered, I met Amber and Ryan in the hotel restaurant for breakfast.
“Morning,” I said, taking a seat at the table.
“You look like shit,” Ryan said.
“Thank you. That’s the look I was going for.” I sipped my coffee. It was awful. “Ugh.”
Amber stared at me. “You haven’t seen it, have you.” It wasn’t a question.
“Seen what? I went to the gym, showered, came here.” My stomach sank. “What did I miss?”
“What Maddox was doing at three o’clock this morning.”
I almost choked on my coffee. “What he was doing? Where the fuck was he? He was supposed to be in his room. He was going back to his room.” I had my phone out, trying to scroll through social media, looking for anything.
“He was in his room,” Ryan answered.
I found it then. A hashtag of #whohurtMaddox was trending. He’d posted a video. I clicked on it, my heart in my throat.
The screen was very dark, he was clearly in his hotel room, on his bed. Leaning against the headboard, playing his new guitar. He wore his long sleep pants and a black T-shirt. His hair was kinda messy. He’d taken his earrings out, and his face was free of make-up.
This was going to hurt. I knew it.
I’d never heard the melody before. His voice was stripped down, soulful and raw.
Please don’t ask me to choose between
Your lies or your leaving,
How can I decide
When my heart is breaking.
You’re not on my side
my corner is bare,
So maybe I should go
No one would care.
I don’t know how to leave you
Maybe you could stay, stay,
and lie to me a little longer.
Baby, a little longer.
Just one more day.
Tell me please,
How can I be enough to make you stay?
He posted it at 3:00 am.
You’re not on my side. My corner is bare.
Was it about me? I was pretty sure it was.
Fuck.
The video he posted had almost two million likes, and the comments were . . . not surprising.
Maddox we love you. You’re more than enough Maddox. Who hurt you, baby? Who broke your heart? You deserve better. Blah blah blah.
But there were some more concerning comments as well.
#WhohurtMaddox had been trending for a while, apparently. Usually followed by the ever so charming #Tellmewhohurtyou #Ijustwanttotalk and #Iwillkillwhoeverhurtyou.
“For fuck’s sake,” I whispered, shutting my phone off and leaving it screen down on the table. “I’ll go talk to him.”
I went to stand up, but Amber grabbed my arm. “Leave him for a bit. Considering he’s had maybe two or three hours’ sleep.”
“I’m going to have to speak to Steve,” I said. “There were some pretty aggressive comments.”
“Probably a good idea.” Ryan nodded. “Shall we try and guess what it’s all about?”
“He’s been having trouble sleeping,” I admitted. “He didn’t want anyone to worry.”
Amber’s expression was neutral, which usually meant something bad was coming. “What do you mean he was going back to his room?” she asked coolly. “Before, you said he was going back to his room.”
Shit.
“He came to see me last night. After dinner. He stayed for maybe five or ten minutes, then went back to his room.”
“What did he want?”
“To talk.” Christ. I couldn’t lie to them. “He was of the impression I was keeping something from him.” I sighed. “In the van back to the hotel last night, Steve and I were talking about the possibility of changing some security measures, given that I seem to be popular right now, with that stupid interview and getting myself on camera. Having Maddox and I together seemed like a bigger target. Anyway, Steve wondered if it would be better if we split our unit and maybe one of you two took Maddox instead. Steve said Maddox won’t go with anyone but me, so we’d need to keep it quiet until it happens—if it happens—and Maddox heard part of the conversation and questioned me, but I told him it was nothing. He can tell when I’m lying, apparently. He left my room upset. Or pissed off. Both. I don’t know. I didn’t go after him.”
They both stared at me.
“Then I guess we’re lucky he went back to his room,” Ryan said. “And that he didn’t leave the hotel.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Hotel security has to tell me if he does.”
“If they see him leave.” Ryan made a good point.
Amber pursed her lips together and tapped the table with her finger, thinking. “The song he sang in the video—”
“It’s new. I haven’t heard it before.”
“He says something about lying,” she continued. My eyes met hers and I knew what she was about to say. “It’s about you, isn’t it?”
I sighed, feeling a little sick to my stomach. “I think so. The line about not being on his side and in his corner . . . That’s aimed at me. Well,” I corrected, “I can’t say for certain, but he accused me of that last night.”
“Not being on his side?” Ryan clarified.
I nodded. “Because I lied to him. He said I was supposed to be in his corner.” I pushed my still-full coffee away and stood up. “I need to go speak to him before Ambrose turns up.”
They didn’t object this time, either too stunned or they thought it was a good idea. Which I highly doubted. “Go easy on him,” Amber murmured.
“Breakfast for them in one hour,” Ryan said, checking his watch. “We leave in two.”
I nodded and made my way up to our floor, a heavy lump of dread in my belly feeling greasier with every step.
I knocked on his door, not expecting an immediate response, given he’d only had about three hours’ sleep. I knocked twice more, then sent him a text. Open the door. I waited another minute, then knocked again and yelled, “Maddox, don’t make me get a hotel manager to open this goddamn door.”
I heard him grumble before the door pulled inward.
He was still mostly asleep, his hair a mess, his sleep pants and T-shirt were crumpled, his eyes squinted and barely open. He snarled at me. “What?”
I did to him what he did to me last night. I brushed past him, our shoulders clipping, and I let myself into his room.
It was dark, the shades drawn, the bed rumpled.
“No, please come in,” he mumbled, voice croaking. “Do whatever the fuck you want.” He walked back to the bed, got in, and pulled the covers over his head.
I sighed. “Well, congratulations,” I said, knowing he’d hear. “You broke Twitter again. Your little song was a hit.”
No reaction, no reply.
“I’ll be going to see Steve after I leave here. Given that a good few thousand of the comments on your post are threatening bodily harm to whoever it was who hurt you. So thanks for that. We really needed the security upgrade.”
Still no reply.
“It’s not just you in this band,” I added, which was a low blow but not completely uncalled for. “You say you hate that the media and the fans make it all about you; then you go and do something like that. You just made it harder for everyone.”
There was a long beat of silence. “Are you done?” his voice was muffled from under the covers.
“Not even fucking close. Christ, Maddox, Ambrose is gonna pitch a fit when he sees this.”
He sat up on the bed and pulled the covers to his chest. He looked miserable. “I’m sorry.”
I sighed, the anger in me dissipating when I saw the sadness that now clung to him. Fucking hell. I went to his side of the bed and sat down heavily.
“Are the others mad at me?” he whispered.
“I haven’t seen them yet. Amber and Ryan are . . . concerned.”
“About?”
“About you, Maddox. Every single person on this team cares about you.”
He flinched and chewed on his bottom lip. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I was angry. And sad, I guess.”
“I’m sorry too. About last night. I wasn’t lying to you . . . I was trying to protect you.”
“Protect me from what?”
I had to make myself answer. I wanted to say “nothing” and just leave, but I needed to be upfront. “Steve said it might be safer for everyone if you and I weren’t a unit.”
Maddox’s eyes shot to mine. “What?”
“He said it might be best, but he doubted you’d agree with it. He, uh . . .” God, here goes. “He actually said he thinks we have a thing . . . together.”
He stared. “A thing?”
“Yeah, like a thing. A romantic thing.”
Maddox’s eyes widened. “He said that?”
I nodded and swallowed hard. “He’s actually not the first person to say that to me in the last few days.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “Oh.”
I shrugged. “Apparently we act couple-y. Like the internet needs any fuel for that fire. Anyway, Steve said if he did ever say our unit needed to split, he’d need me to agree with him because you wouldn’t.” I let out an unsteady breath. “You wanted to know this, so I’m telling you.”
“But you think we should . . . not be together.”
Christ, the way he said that.
“If it comes down to your safety, then yes. Whatever it takes, Maddox.”
“I don’t want that.”
“I don’t want that either.”
He threw back the covers, got off the bed, and began to pace. “Roscoe . . .” He shook his head, and he was breathing like he’d just run around the block.
I stood up and grabbed his hand. “Hey.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want that.”
As much as I didn’t want that either, his reaction was a little more . . . concerning.
“I don’t think you understand,” he whispered.
“I don’t think I do either.” His breathing was a little shallow. Panicky almost. He’d probably still be pacing if I didn’t have a hold of his hand. “Maddox, hey.”
His eyes were wide, vulnerable. “Do you know what it’s like to realize you’re truly alone?”
I shook my head. He needed to speak so I let him.
“I have no one. I’m surrounded by hundreds of people and the world watches my every move, but I feel like I’m invisible. Everyone watches me but no one sees me. I have no one, Roscoe. No one who understands. No one who gets it. I thought I had you, but it was made very clear to me last night that’s simply not true.”
“You do have me.”
“You lied to me.”
“And you told me yesterday you lied to me every day, so how is this any different?”
“Because it is!” he cried. “Because it’s you. And because you’re all I’ve got.”
His words hit me like a truck.
“What?”
“You looked me right in the eye and lied. And what do we have if we don’t have the truth, Roscoe. That’s all I ever asked from you. That was all I ever needed. And you looked me right in the goddamn eye, and you lied to me.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He tried to pull his hand free but I kept a hold of him. I hated seeing him hurt like this. “You’re not alone. I’m sorry if you feel you are, but I’m here. You have me. I do see you.”
He shook his head. “I thought . . . I thought . . .”
“You thought what?” I whispered. I hadn’t realized just how close we were, that I still had his hand in mine.
He squinted his eyes shut and put his head down, his chest rose and fell with his breaths, but no words came.
I put my other hand around his neck and pulled him against me, wrapping him up in a hug. He was tense at first and I wondered if I’d done the wrong thing, but then he sighed and melted against me. And he sighed again . . . until I realized he wasn’t sighing at all.
It was as though he was breathing deep for the first time in forever. Like only now could he catch his breath.
I rubbed his back and he clung to me. “You okay?”
He nodded against my chest, but he didn’t speak and he didn’t try to move away. If anything, he held me a little tighter. But it wasn’t just his tension and stress melting away. It was mine too.
I tried to remember the last time I’d hugged someone. Or been hugged in return. It had been . . . far too long.
“Can I ask you something?” I murmured.
He nodded, still clinging to me. He felt so good against me. After all these years of wanting this, more than anything, I was about to ask him something that would no doubt make him pull away.
“The song you sang in the middle of the night . . .”
I thought he might pull back or try to, at least. But no. He stayed right there, his forehead in the crook of my neck, his arms around my back. If anything, he held me tighter. “It was about you.”
I was sure he could hear, or feel, my hammering heart. “Thought so.”
“Please don’t lie to me,” he whispered. “I can’t take it.”
“Okay.”
“Please don’t leave me.”
I squeezed him. “Okay.”
I didn’t know what this was or what was happening between us. But he needed me, and for some fucked-up reason, I liked that he did.
“Maddox,” I said, pulling back so I could see his face. “If our security team says we need to change things up, then we will need to do that.”
He tried to back up, so I cupped his face and held him right there. His eyes were wide, so dark and so beautiful. “I’m not going anywhere,” I said firmly. “If you have to work with Ryan or Amber for a little while, that’s okay. I’m still here. I’m not leaving you. Okay?”
He nodded. “’Kay.”
“You’re not alone,” I whispered, glancing down at his mouth. “I see you, Maddox. I see you.”
He leaned a little closer, sliding his tongue across his bottom lip like he was about to kiss me. And I thought, fuck it. He wanted me to kiss him. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to fix this, I wanted to fix him, even if it broke me.
I tilted his face up, just a fraction. “Tell me to stop,” I breathed.
His gaze dropped to my mouth, then drew back up to my eyes. “No.”
So I ghosted my lips over his, the barest of touches. Lingering, longing, but not quite touching. Then I did it again, feather-light and his eyes rolled back, his eyelids fluttered closed.
And I pressed my lips to his a little harder, enough for him to gasp, and I pulled his bottom lip in between mine, just about to tilt his face and open his mouth to taste his tongue—
When there was a knock on the door.
We broke apart, both of us dazed.
“Hey, dickbag, open up.”
Jeremy.
Fuck.
“Fuck.”
“Maddox.”
“Yeah, all right. Keep your pants on,” Maddox replied and went to the door.
Trying to act casual, I leaned against the table just as he opened the door and Jeremy came in. He stopped when he saw me. “Oh.”
“Yeah, I was just leaving,” I said. “I’ve said everything I needed to say. Maddox, you need to be showered and ready for breakfast in twenty minutes. We leave at ten thirty.”
I ignored the curious look Jeremy gave me and saw Maddox give a nod before I let myself out. I went as fast as I could into my room and had to lean against the back of the door. My heart was about to gallop out of my chest, my stomach was a giant knot, and my blood felt like I’d taken a 240-volt hit.
I’d kissed Maddox.
I kissed him.
And it was hot as hell.
I held his face. I held his body to mine. I felt him pressed to me. I felt his lips. Soft. So soft. His warmth.
I wasn’t sorry.
He’d opened up to me about feeling alone, about feeling hurt by me, that the song he’d sung was about me. He’d shown me a piece of his heart, so I’d shown him mine in return.
Kissing him was the right thing to do.
Gathering my resolve, I found Amber and Ryan in the common room. Breakfast was being set up for the boys, so I grabbed a coffee and joined Amber and Ryan on the sofas. “How’d it go?” Amber asked.
“Yeah, good.” I sipped my coffee. It was terrible, but I pretended it wasn’t because it gave me something to focus on. “I left him with Jeremy and told him to be here for breakfast.”
“Ambrose was in here looking for you,” Ryan said.
I sighed. It was to be expected. “Where is he?”
“Said he’d be back in five.”
“Was he pissed?”
They both stared at me like what do you think.
Great.
I took out my phone and spent ten minutes scrolling through entertainment sites, social media, and even news sites for any update on the damage. Not that there was much point. Ambrose’s PR team would have been all over it for hours. I’m sure I was about to get told how bad it was.
