Chapter 10

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ADAM

ADAM SHUFFLED into the kitchen, holding his head with both hands. Ugh. Fuck . He wasn't hungover, but he had a monster headache. Adam tried rolling his shoulders. The muscles there felt like rocks after having been so tense through all his crying fits yesterday.

He headed for the coffee machine, hoping caffeine might help with the pain. Adam opened the cupboard to pull out the can of coffee grounds only to realize the machine was already on, a full, fresh pot just sitting there, waiting for him.

Damn it . He turned around and sank down to the floor, resting his elbows on his knees, then thunk ed his head back against the cabinet.

" Ow ! Fuck!" he spat. Adam twisted around, holding the back of his head, and saw he'd hit the metal handle instead of the cabinet door itself.

" Adam? " Haven called.

Adam sighed. Shit .

A door opened down the hallway, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps. Haven appeared in the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes, but he looked suddenly awake and alert as he threw himself down at Adam's side. "Are you okay? Did you fall?"

"No," Adam groaned, rubbing the back of his head. He checked his fingers to make sure he wasn't bleeding, then let his arm drop to his side. "I'm fine." He huffed out a breath. "I'm sorry I woke you."

Haven shrugged. "It's okay." Haven fell silent, and even though Adam was staring down at the floor, he could feel the boy watching him. "What's wrong? Hungover?"

Adam shook his head. "No. Just a headache." He gave a quick, fleeting gesture at the counter above him. "You didn't have to make coffee. Or dinner last night, for that matter."

"Just wanted to help," Haven murmured.

"Because I'm a hot fucking mess and incapable of taking care of myself."

"No!" Haven gasped. "No, that's not it at all."

Adam sighed again and rubbed his eyes. "Sorry. Fuck!" He ran his hands back through his hair, feeling Haven waiting patiently beside him. "It's like it's happening all over again. I feel like I'm right back where I started. Right after Dad…" Adam swallowed hard when a swell of emotion threatened to choke him.

Fuck! Why was the grief suddenly so fresh again?

Haven scooted over beside him, pressing their shoulders together, and took Adam's hand. They sat there in silence for several minutes. All the while, Adam fought the urge to cry, amazed that his body could still produce tears after yesterday. Hell . After the past nine years.

"Fuck," he gasped. "Nine years."

Haven tightened his hand. "Is that what it is? The anniversary hitting you harder than usual?"

Adam frowned, holding his breath while he kept trying to stop himself from crying. "I have no idea," he finally replied. "Yeah. Maybe."

"I get that," Haven murmured. "That first Christmas, the year after my parents kicked me out? That was hard . The next year was a little easier. And then it seemed to keep getting easier, right up until one year it randomly hit me all over again, out of the blue." He shrugged. "It happens. Though, I think this past Christmas was the worst of all. Of course, it didn't help that I was sick, and that Theo and I were…well…you know. Being all awkward. It was like that feeling of being lonely and unwanted came back in full force."

Adam frowned. "Shit. Is that it?" He looked up, studying Haven's eyes as he thought it through. "Is having John back in my life making it worse?"

Haven gave a tiny shrug. "Possibly. He was a big part of everything that happened back then, right?"

"Damn it," Adam sighed, letting his head fall back. He bumped the cabinet handle again and bit off a curse. "Fuck!"

Haven cringed in sympathy. "Come on. Let's go sit on the couch. The floor's too hard, anyway." He got up to his feet and held out a hand for Adam. "This is the part where you laugh and say, 'There's no such thing as too hard .' "

Adam silently took Haven's hand and stood up.

"Okay, now you're scaring me," Haven said, staring at him with wide eyes.

Adam sighed, feeling his whole body sag with defeat as he trudged off to the living room. "See, that's what I mean. Like it's happening all over again." He sank heavily onto the couch. "You didn't know me back then. I was miserable . I don't think I ever laughed unless I was buzzed. And then I'd feel guilty for laughing and wind up drinking more."

Haven sat down beside him, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them loosely. "I think your dad would want you to be happy and enjoy your life. From everything you've told me about him, I know he must have loved you a lot."

Adam looked down at his hands. "I know," he mumbled. "But it still felt wrong."

"But it got easier," Haven said, his tone almost making the words a question.

Adam winced. "Sort of." He grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it to his chest. "I mean, time, yeah. But I also realized I was bringing down the people around me, so I started faking it. Pretending to be happy." He shrugged. "Some days were easier than others. Some days, I didn't even have to pretend." Adam barked out a bittersweet laugh. "That's half the reason I even bothered to get a job," he admitted. "For the practice. Otherwise, I'd just sit around at home and mope all the time."

Haven tilted his head. "That's why you never complained when Morgan got a hysterectomy and you had to take on extra shifts to cover for him. I mean, you jokingly complained, but you never actually meant it."

Adam winced as a shiver ran down his spine. "Fuck," he gasped. His heart rate kicked up a notch, and his skin felt hot and cold all over. "I was terrified when Morgan said he was getting surgery. And he felt so bad, asking me and the others to cover his shifts while he was off." Adam shook his head. The truth was, just minutes before Morgan told Adam about the surgery, Adam had been talking to their boss about requesting some time off of his own. He'd been wanting to take a week to go visit Skylar since they hadn't seen one another in years. But Morgan had barely gotten out his announcement before Adam went straight back to the boss, rescinded his vacation request, and volunteered to cover all of Morgan's shifts himself. It had meant working almost nonstop for two months, pushing every limit of the stupid labor laws that dictated work hours, but Adam would do it all over again in a heartbeat. "I couldn't tell him no ," he added, referring to Morgan. "Because, just my luck, if I had—if I'd asked him to wait so I could have my vacation first—he would have died on that table, too."

Haven shifted over and pulled Adam against him. "He's fine," Haven murmured. "Morgan's fine."

"I know," Adam choked out, then had to swallow back a fresh swell of emotion. Morgan was alive. And happy. And getting married. "Shit." Adam groaned and covered his face with both hands. "He's gonna tell me he changed his mind about me singing at the wedding. I just know it."

"No, he won't," Haven said. "He loves you enough to forgive one little drunken outburst." He patted Adam on the arm. "Although, speaking of Morgan and work, you should probably start getting ready, or you're going to be late."

Adam groaned. He didn't want to go to work. He didn't want to face Morgan, let alone people in general. As much as working customer service gave him plenty of practice at pretending to be happy, he simply didn't have the energy.

But he also couldn't leave Morgan to face the work day by himself. Not on a Monday. So he obediently got up, drank some coffee, ate the breakfast that Haven put in front of him, and got dressed.

His head still hurt, but he figured he deserved that after being such an idiot yesterday. Adam groaned. Even considering the way he'd behaved and the way he felt at that moment, part of him still wanted another drink. He wanted to float away and forget. Drift on the haze of alcohol and not have to feel anything.

It was a damned good thing their apartment was dry. Otherwise, he wasn't sure he could resist the temptation.

Adam got into his car and sat there for a moment with the engine running, trying to psyche himself up for going to work. He was about to reach for the gearshift when Haven came flying out of the apartment, heading straight for him.

"You forgot your lunch," Haven said once Adam rolled down his window. He held up Adam's lunch bag and handed it through.

Shit . Adam inwardly cursed himself. This wasn't exactly the first time Haven had made his lunch for him, let alone had to bring it to him. "Thanks," he said, trying for a smile.

Haven eyed the dashboard. "You should put on some music."

Adam cringed. "I'm not sure even my favorites are gonna do it for me right now," he admitted.

"Then put on something you haven't listened to in a long time. Something you don't know for sure will cheer you up or not." Haven shrugged. "It might surprise you."

Adam gave him a smile and a nod. He doubted it was actually going to work, but he'd do it anyway, just to make Haven happy.

He waited until Haven went back inside, then grabbed his phone and connected it to his car's stereo system. Adam spent a long time scrolling through his playlists. He was probably going to be late, but what else was new?

Adam stopped and scrolled back, spotting Dream Theater's Metropolis Pt. 2: Scenes From a Memory album. His eyebrows went up. Damn . He hadn't listened to that one in years. His old garage band had gone through a phase of devouring everything Dream Theater had ever produced, but that had gone by the wayside after some other new obsession took over.

But not before John had helped them write "December Dreams," inspired by Dream Theater's musical style. Just the thought of that song brought a smile to his face. He still couldn't believe it had taken eight years to figure out the song was about him!

Adam looked back down at his phone and eyed the first track: "Scene One: Regression." Oh! This was the murder mystery album. The one that was written in the style of a play, characters and all. Adam punched at the screen to start the music, then reached for the shifter again.

The sound of a ticking clock filled the car. Adam paused, frowning. Then came a man's voice, speaking softly, telling the listener to close their eyes and focus on their breaths. Adam's eyelids automatically drooped, and he felt his shoulders start to come down. A tiny sigh escaped him as his entire body sagged into the seat, obeying the voice as though it were speaking directly to him.

His headache slowly eased as the voice faded, giving way to the faint sounds of a guitar. The sound grew louder and louder, building with energy. Adam found himself grinning as the music flowed seamlessly into the second track, the play's overture, a medley of all the music that was to come. The power of it seeped down into his bones, making him feel the first hints of the mystery. The danger. The love story.

And the moment the lyrics began, Adam couldn't help singing along. It burst out of him, nearly bringing tears to his eyes. He finally put his car into gear and pulled out onto the street, grinning the whole way to work as he cranked up the volume and sang at the top of his lungs.

He reached the coffee shop way too soon. For a moment, Adam seriously considered sitting there until the entire album had played through, but then he'd be really late to work. And he was not about to do that to Morgan. He begrudgingly turned down the volume before shutting off the engine. At least he could go back to it later, on the drive home.

Adam let himself in through the back of the shop, muttered an apology to his boss for being late, and clocked in. He grabbed his apron and quickly tied it on, then hurried out to the front.

Shit . The shop was busy . Adam couldn't even say hello to Morgan, having to jump right into the chaos and help the line of customers. They rushed from one thing to another, ringing up orders, mixing drinks, restocking supplies, calling out names. It was non-stop, which was exactly what Adam needed. Being too busy to think was the best thing that could have happened.

Except, despite the rush, Adam felt Morgan watching him. The boy kept glancing Adam's way, his expression unreadable. Fuck . Morgan had to be gearing up to rescind the offer about singing at the wedding. He was probably trying to find some nice way to say it. To tell Adam that he didn't want him ruining his wedding by being a drunken mess.

Adam inwardly cringed while trying to focus on grabbing the right flavor of scone out of one of the displays. Maybe he should beat Morgan to it. Apologize for being a drunken ass yesterday and then say something came up, something that would prevent him from singing after all.

Adam put the scone on a plate and called out the customer's name.

The lady walked up and looked at the scone with a frown. "I ordered a blueberry muffin."

"Huh?" Adam looked down and saw the raspberry scone he'd pulled from the case even as he remembered her ordering the muffin instead. Shit . "I'm so sorry. I'll be right back." He rushed off to correct the order, blurting out another apology before moving on to the next thing.

But the next hour was more of the same. Adam put dark roast beans in the decaf machine. Then he set down a latte when he went to go answer the phone, completely forgetting about the drink until a customer demanded to know what was taking so long. He started to ring up one customer, then paused to grab an empty cup and write the customer's name on it, then punched in the items all over again and didn't realize it until the customer raged about the doubled price.

Morgan jumped in and took over, gently sending Adam away to go wipe down the tables. Adam fought back fresh tears as he worked. He was so useless! Always getting in the way or making things harder on the people around him.

He was in the back room, returning the cleaning supplies, when he heard his phone beep. Shit! He'd forgotten to put his phone on silent. Adam pulled it out and quickly lowered the volume until it was set to vibrate, then saw a new text from John.

Adam winced, hesitating before he opened it.

John : Breathe, baby. It's going to be okay.

Adam frowned, then looked up as Morgan walked in.

"John?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah…"

Morgan wrung his hands. "I texted him. Told him you were having a rough morning."

Adam squeezed his eyes shut as more tears threatened. "I'm so sorry," he choked out. "And I'm sorry about yesterday and I totally understand if you don't want me singing at the wedding because I'm a fucking hot mess and–"

"Hey," Morgan murmured. "No!" He pulled Adam into his arms, hugging him tight. "Of course I still want you to sing. I mean…" Morgan stepped back, holding Adam at arm's length. "Unless you'd rather be there as a guest, which is fine! You're my friend, first and foremost. You don't have to be there, working, if you don't want–"

"I want!" Adam said, looking at Morgan with wide eyes as he nodded emphatically. "Really? You still want me to sing?"

"Really," Morgan insisted. "And…" Morgan bit his lip. "I was also hoping you might want to be my best man?"

Adam gasped. "Oh my god," he gushed, feeling tears of gratitude sting the backs of his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Morgan smiled at him. "Just…maybe a limit on the drinks?"

Adam choked out another sob as a wave of relief washed through him, making him dizzy. He nodded emphatically as he hugged Morgan back, then straightened up, dried his face, and promised to do better.

He hoped he could hold to that promise, because even with that bit of good news, the urge to drown himself in the haze of alcohol was still painfully tempting.