Chapter 7

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JOHN

JOHN EYED Adam at the other end of the bar.

Adam was drinking? Why? Since when? The boy had always adamantly refused any offers of alcohol whenever the two of them were together. Even up until last night. But Adam always looked like he was fighting some serious temptation whenever there was a bottle in front of him.

So why now? What changed?

" And so I told Daddy –"

John winced. He had no idea who had spoken, but that one word stood out above all others. The one word that Adam would never use. Christ . Was that the problem? Was Adam being reminded too much of the day he lost his dad? Hell . Was Adam's friend flat-out talking about his dad? Bringing up painful memories without realizing it?

He was about to go investigate when someone came to a stop beside him, startling him out of his thoughts. John found Everett standing there, chuckling as he looked at something across the room.

Shit . Every time he'd spotted Everett since he'd arrived, all John could think about was having to tell the man about the riesling vines. Thankfully, this was neither the time nor the place for that conversation. Not that John wanted to have it at all.

John knew he needed to man-up and say it, but the very thought of ripping out that section of the vineyard made his skin crawl. Christ . John took a sip of his syrah and glanced at Everett again, then waited. The man had clearly approached for a reason, yet Everett remained silent. John finally followed the man's gaze and spotted Ward still sitting in an armchair with some boy in his lap.

"Something tells me," Everett began, "Ward just discovered a new side to himself."

John looked from Everett to Ward and back as he processed that amongst the tumult of other thoughts running through his head. Oh. That must have been what Ward had been hinting at yesterday. Maybe the man was feeling bi-curious.

Everett chuckled. "I think we might even gain another daddy in our group."

Christ . John took a big gulp of his wine to stop himself from cursing aloud. Was everyone going to get to be a daddy except for him?

Before John could come up with a suitable, polite reply—something that didn't sound harsh and bitter, let alone rude—Everett turned to him and clapped him on the back.

"Your boy is incredibly talented, by the way," Everett said.

John couldn't help smiling at that. He had nothing to do with Adam's inherent gift, of course, but the compliment still filled him with pride, all the same. "Thank you."

"Morgan's very excited to have him sing at the wedding," Everett went on. "Though I'm sorry your date will be occupied for the whole thing now."

John shook his head. He wasn't sorry. Not even a little bit. He'd agreed to go to the wedding as Adam's date, but he hadn't been looking forward to the social niceties and chitchat. Dancing with his boy would have been fun, but he could take or leave that. But now that he could look forward to sitting and listening to Adam sing? John would gladly go to any number of weddings so long as he'd get to hear that mesmerizing voice.

"This chardonnay is excellent, by the way," Everett said, holding up his glass. He chuckled. "Beau was right. I do enjoy your signature cab, but this one is easily my favorite. I'll never figure out how the man just knows things like that."

John breathed a laugh and shook his head. No shit . The man really was oddly intuitive.

He eyed Adam again, watching the boy and his friend as they laughed hysterically about something. Christ . Adam was actually drunk! The boy was practically falling off the stool.

"I should go say hi to Ward," Everett said.

"Yeah, of course," John replied distractedly, glad for the excuse to walk away himself.

He waited until Everett left his side, then turned and made his way down the bar. John paused halfway, his gaze drawn to where Beau stood behind the counter. The man was washing a glass while watching Adam out of the corner of his eye, a curious look on his face. John frowned and changed course, heading for Beau instead.

Beau looked up from the glass in his hands and gave John a smile. "May I get you a refill?" the Frenchman asked.

John's frown deepened as he glanced from Beau to Adam and back. "Why did you serve him?"

Beau's smile vanished. His expression wasn't grave, exactly, but something close to it. "That boy needs to let something out. Something to do with drink. I do not know what it is, but it is clearly there, below the surface, needing to be released." Beau paused, giving John a direct look. "I know you see it, too."

John clenched his jaw. He did see it, but if it had anything to do with Adam's dad, as he suspected, it would only lead to more dramatic outbursts and heartbreak. And the last thing he wanted was for Adam to suffer more than the boy already had.

"He could have refused a drink," Beau pointed out before John could voice any kind of protest.

John muttered a curse under his breath and turned away. Beau was right, of course. Still, the man was a daddy himself. Beau should have known to decide for Adam. Should have known not to make the offer in the first place.

He continued down the bar and stopped between the stools where Adam and his friend sat.

"John!" Adam exclaimed with a grin, throwing up his arms. The wine sloshed around inside his glass, but there wasn't much left, so it didn't spill over the sides. "I get to sing at Morgan and Everett's wedding! Did you hear? I'll have to call Trevor and see if the band can come to town, but–"

"What are you drinking?" John interrupted him.

"Huh? Oh!" Adam giggled and thrust out the wine glass. "I have no idea, but Beau picked it out for me and it's really good."

John took the glass, his frown deepening as the scent of it hit him. He swirled the wine around, tipped the glass towards his nose, then took a sip.

A pang shot through every nerve in his body as the wine rushed over his tongue. His heartbeat picked up and his skin tingled all over.

And not a pleasurable kind of tingle. More like hair standing on end in the face of inexplicable danger.

"This is my riesling," he realized aloud.

John stared at the glass. It should have thrilled him. Wine from his favorite part of the vineyard just happened to be the one that Beau chose for Adam? The part of the vineyard John closely associated with his boy? It was such a perfect coincidence.

Yet the revelation slammed into him like a harbinger of doom.

" Myyyyyy riesling," Adam sang, sending him and his friend into a fresh fit of giggles. Then Adam gasped, his eyes going wide for a moment before he grinned and belted out a line from Elton John's "Your Song," just the way Ewan McGregor began the medley in Moulin Rouge .

Adam and his friend shared a look, then stumbled over one another in their hurry to get back to the piano. The opening notes of the song filled the room, and even though Adam swayed drunkenly where he stood, having to throw out a hand to brace himself on the piano, his voice was still nothing short of pure magic as he started to sing.

Christ . John stood mesmerized. His worry momentarily fled as the entire world narrowed down to the exquisite sounds his boy made. And when Adam looked right at him—singing about the wonder of having someone special in his world—John felt his heart clench at the raw emotion in Adam's tone.

But the moment shattered a second later when Adam gasped, thrust out an arm to point at John, and shouted, "John! Come sing with me!"

John felt his cheeks warm as people turned to look at him.

Shit . He'd had more than enough of being the center of attention all week. But at least that had been for his job. That, he could do. But performing in front of an audience? Wildly different story. None of the people there even knew John had a musical hobby. It simply wasn't something he shared with anyone.

But now everyone was looking at him with surprise and anticipation. Like they actually expected him to walk over there and join in.

"John!" Adam whined.

The heat on John's cheeks grew worse as he looked at Adam and subtly shook his head.

Adam slammed down his wine glass on a table, but the glass slipped off the edge and broke. The boy didn't even notice as he stomped past the mess, his mood snapping from joyful and carefree into cranky and sullen in the space of a heartbeat. "Why won't you sing with me?" Adam demanded, speaking far too loudly. "You never sing with me anymore!"

"Adam," John bit off. He risked a glance at the people around him and found almost everyone staring at them. Even Adam's friend was stealing glances, all the while seamlessly repeating the same few bars on the piano, clearly waiting for Adam to come back and pick up the lyrics where he'd left off.

"You used to sing with me all the time," Adam continued, stopping right in front of John and scowling up at him. He poked John in the chest with his index finger, the motion knocking him off-balance.

John grabbed him with his free hand, steadying him. "I think it's time for us to go."

"What? No!" Adam snapped, the sound amplified in the otherwise silent room. His friend had stopped playing, and now every single person there was standing quietly, watching the commotion. "We just got here," Adam went on. "And I haven't seen Sky in ages and I want to sing and I want you to sing with me!"

"No," John managed to bite off when all he wanted to do was walk out of the room and never face any of these people again. Christ . He hated to imagine what they must all be thinking of him.

Somewhere in the room, in the brief silence that followed, one of the boys whimpered, "Daddy."

" Stop saying that fucking word! " Adam screamed, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his ears. "Fuck! I need a drink." He whirled around, aiming for the bar.

John carefully set down his glass and grabbed Adam instead. He got the boy's wrists in one hand and used the other to hold Adam by the back of the neck, pushing him towards the nearest exit. "You've had enough," John bit off as he opened the door to the back patio before taking a firm hold of Adam again. He had no idea if they could get around to the parking lot from there, but he wasn't about to parade Adam through the entire crowd to get to the front door instead. It was bad enough that he could feel everyone watching them for the few seconds it took to force Adam outside.

Christ . His entire body burned with humiliation. It wasn't as bad as the night Adam's dad accused him of assault, but it was close.

John stopped a few feet outside the door, looking around, trying to figure out where to go. In that brief delay, Adam went pliant in his hands. The boy stopped struggling and leaned back against him.

"I love it when you go all caveman on me," Adam moaned. "Are you gonna fuck me now? You should totally fuck me." He tried to pull his hands free of John's grip, then settled for simply stretching out his fingers, reaching back towards John's groin.

"Christ," John snapped, putting some space between them without breaking his hold. "Are you always like this when you're drunk?"

"Not drunk ," Adam scoffed, then stumbled and laughed as he tried to take a step away. After John steadied him, Adam tried to step back again, squirming in John's hold. "I want your dick!" the boy snapped. "Why won't you let me touch you?"

John felt heat flush his cheeks all over again, hoping nobody inside had heard that outburst. "Alright, that's enough." He tightened his hold on Adam's wrists and neck and propelled him forward, searching for a way around the side of the house.

He managed to maneuver them between some bushes, and the parking lot came into view. John aimed straight for his truck, letting go of Adam's neck so he could pull his keys out of his pocket.

Adam gasped. "Are you gonna fuck me in your truck? We haven't done that yet!"

"No. I'm taking you home." John wrenched the passenger side door open, then shoved Adam into the seat.

"But I don't wanna go home yet! You won't fuck me at home. And I wanna sing! And did you hear? I get to sing at Morgan's wedding!" Adam added as he tried to get back out of the truck.

"I'm pretty sure you already ruined that opportunity," John muttered to himself as he pushed Adam back into the seat. Christ . He'd barely glanced at Everett's face during Adam's initial outburst, but it had been enough to make him burn with shame. The man had looked so disappointed. "Fuck, Adam, you just humiliated me in front of my boss. Humiliated yourself in front of all your friends. I don't–" John threw his hands up and took a step back. "Fuck."

Adam stared at him, utterly still and silent for a full, pregnant second before he suddenly burst into tears.

John closed his eyes and sighed, but didn't waste the opportunity handed to him. While Adam was busy crying rather than fighting him, John yanked off his belt and looped it around Adam's wrists, not trusting the boy to hold still on the drive home. John buckled Adam into the seat, slammed the door shut, stormed around to the driver's side, and got in.

He fired up the truck, quickly checking his mirrors before he backed out of the parking spot and headed down the long driveway. John couldn't even take solace in the view of the zinfandel grapevines that stretched off to either side, making the hills look carpeted in green. All he could think about was getting out of there.

Halfway to town, Adam stopped crying, turning silent and sullen instead. When they reached Adam's apartment, the boy didn't even seem to notice they'd arrived. John got out of the truck, opened Adam's door, and freed the boy before reaching into the back seat for Adam's things.

"Where are your keys?" John asked.

Adam scowled and didn't respond.

John patted the boy's pockets and found the keys there. He marched Adam up to the door, let them in, then took off his shoes and headed straight for the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. "We need to sober you up," he said over his shoulder as he went.

Once he set the pot brewing, John turned around to check on Adam, but the boy wasn't there. John looked immediately for Adam's car keys, heaving a sigh of relief when he found them still hanging on the peg by the door, right where he'd left them.

A sob sounded from the direction of Adam's bedroom. John headed that way and hesitantly peeked into the room, his gaze going immediately to the far nightstand.

Except the urn wasn't there. And there was no sign of Adam.

John heard another sob. Shit . He walked around the bed and found Adam wedged into the corner between the wall and the nightstand, his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around the urn.

"I'm so sorry," Adam cried, rocking himself, his forehead resting on the urn. "I'm so sorry."

John carefully approached and crouched down in front of him. "Adam?"

"I'm so sorry," Adam choked out again.

John's heart clenched, hearing the pain in his boy's voice. Shit . "Baby?" he murmured. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

Adam cried silently for a moment before he said, "It's all my fault."

John rested a hand on Adam's knee. "You did get out of control," he agreed. "But if you apologize to your friends–"

"No!" Adam screamed, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks and dripping onto the urn. "It's my fault he's dead!"

John blinked. "What?"

Adam let out a wail of pure agony. "It's my fault he's dead," he choked out between sobs. "I wanted him to get the surgery. I was tired of hearing him whine about his shoulder pain. And I wanted to get my top surgery as soon as I turned eighteen, but I knew it would have to wait until he got his shoulder surgery first, so I snapped at him. I told him to hurry up and get it done already." Adam squeezed his eyes shut as fresh tears fell. "And then he died, and it's all my fault!"

John sank back onto the floor and ran a hand through his hair. Christ . He had no idea what to say to that. It was bad enough that Adam had lost his father in such a sudden, unexpected way, but to also feel responsible for it? Granted, it wasn't truly Adam's fault. He wasn't the one who'd botched the surgery, causing Frank Barnes to bleed out on the table.

But John could certainly understand Adam's shame and guilt. John had those in spades himself.

"I can't do this anymore, John," Adam whispered before another sob tore out of him. "Make it stop." He balanced the urn between his thighs and covered his ears. "Make the screaming stop!"

John's heart broke. He shifted over, trying to ignore the presence of the urn as he gathered his boy in his arms.

"We'll make it stop," he promised, rocking Adam and pressing a kiss to the top of the boy's head. "We'll make it stop."

For both their sakes, one way or another, he was going to find a way to help Adam get past his grief.