Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Laney

In any normal circumstance, coming face to face with the world's biggest popstar would be overwhelming all on its own.

But there's something else competing for attention in my brain.

You must be Laney, Deke's fiancée.

I am Laney, he got that part right, but…Deke? As in, his former bandmate Deke? Is it just a coincidence that I happen to have the same name as Deke Driscoll's fiancée?

But then, why would Freddie Ridgefield expect her to be here, at Adam's house?

Adam… Driscoll's house.

Wait.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

That's not even a little bit possible. Adam Driscoll runs a dog rescue in Lawson freaking Cove. He is not…he can't be…

I picture Adam's face. Bright blue eyes. Strong jaw. Soft beard. Perfect lips.

He can't be Deke. Deke is… Deke. Boyish and winsome and definitely not six feet of sculpted muscle.

I wobble on my feet a little, and Freddie steps into the doorway to steady me. "Hey, whoa. Why don't you sit down for a sec?" He gently grips my elbow, leading me onto the porch and over to a wide, wooden bench to the left of Adam's front door. He hovers as I sit, like he wants to make sure I make it all the way down without falling over. "Just breathe," he says. "Can I get you anything? Some water, maybe?"

I lift my eyes to his. They are really pretty eyes. Wide and green and full of concern.

"You're Freddie Ridgefield," I say.

He offers me a bemused smile. "I am."

"And you're here to see Deke Driscoll?"

He sits down on the bench beside me, careful to keep a respectable amount of space between us. "Right again," he says. "He probably isn't expecting me, not unless Sarah mentioned that I was coming?"

He says this like it's a question. Like I might be able to confirm or deny and shed light on this whole situation. But I am zero help here. I'm too busy trying to calculate the statistical odds that Adam Driscoll and Deke Driscoll are two different people, both with sisters named Sarah and romantic interests named Laney, and this is all just one hilarious coincidental mix-up.

Because Adam simply cannot be Deke.

I look up at Freddie one more time. "You're really him," I say, like this is all some kind of fantastical dream. "And you came here because Deke lives here. Because you know Deke. "

He nods, patiently. "It's the address Sarah gave me, so…yes? Is he…not here?"

I don't answer because I can't answer. I have no idea what I would even say. Instead, I lift my hands to my fiery cheeks and will myself to take several deep breaths. I don't think I've been getting a lot of oxygen into my lungs, because the effort feels really good, and my head clears the slightest bit.

"Good," Freddie says gently. "Just keep breathing. Air is your best friend right now."

I'm sure he thinks I'm overwhelmed because of him. Stuff like this is probably part of his day-to-day. Women fainting in front of him, freaking out badly enough that they forget to breathe. That's not exactly what's happening to me, but I'm happy to let him think it is. I mean, I am overwhelmed by his presence, but I'm more overwhelmed by the reality he's presenting.

Adam is Deke Driscoll. Midnight Rush Deke Driscoll.

I still can't make it compute.

Adam and I have talked about Midnight Rush. Joked about naming Taylor's puppies after the members of the band. I told him right to his face that my favorite band member was Deke, and he didn't say a word.

This would explain why he recognized the group's song so quickly, but if it is him, why is he living in the middle of nowhere, hiding behind a different name? And why does he look like a completely different person?

I scour my brain for something, anything, that might make it make sense. At one point, I knew everything there was to know about all of the members of Midnight Rush. Even Deke's full name. I knew birth dates, astrological signs, names of pets, and every other scrap of information the band ever revealed .

I was that fan. At least, I was at sixteen.

But then I got older. I went to college, and my brain filled with other more useful things. Essential things. Vet school things.

It's still in there. Somewhere in my head, there has to be a piece of information that would explain all of this.

If I remember correctly, after the band broke up, Deke fell off the map pretty quickly. I was naturally devastated, but I was days away from heading off to college and was, for the first time, preoccupied with something a little bigger, a little more important than my Midnight Rush obsession. Still, I remember talk in entertainment news about family drama, maybe a disagreement between Deke and his management team. Or was it his agent? Both, maybe?

I can't remember any specifics about the breakup, so I dig deeper, reach even farther into the back corners of my mind.

Adam told me he moved to Lawson Cove from Tennessee. Was Deke from Tennessee? Did he have a Southern accent at all?

I think through the names of the band members one by one, trying to trigger a memory.

Freddie Ridgefield from Seattle, Washington.

Leo LeClair from Bridgeport, Connecticut.

Jace Campbell from San Diego, California.

Deke Driscoll from…Knoxville, Tennessee.

Suddenly, the information I need drops into my brain like candy falling out of a vending machine.

Adam Deacon Driscoll. Born in Knoxville, Tennessee, May 27th.

Deacon. Deke.

It is him .

I have been on a date with my favorite member of Midnight Rush. Held his hand. Almost kissed him.

I lean forward, resting my arms on my knees and take a stuttering breath. "Ohhhh no," I say, staring at the floorboards. "I think I might be sick."

"Keep breathing," Freddie says, his voice growing slightly more alarmed. "I'm going to go inside and grab you some water. Can I do that? Can I go inside?"

I nod numbly. At least if he leaves, I'll have a minute to wrap my head around this new reality. Except… wait.

Adam being Deke might explain Freddie's presence on his porch, but it doesn't explain the other part of what he said.

Why does he think I'm Deke's fiancée?

Freddie reappears with a bottle of water, cold from Adam's fridge, and he slips it into my hands, the cap already gone.

I take a slow drink, brain still reeling, as headlights appear at the end of the driveway. It can only be Adam, and sure enough, his white SUV quickly comes into view, the familiar Hope Rescue logo emblazoned on the side.

Beside me, Freddie stands, his hands slipping into his front pockets as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. He almost seems nervous, making me wonder when he last saw Adam.

Or…Deke? I have no idea how to think of him now.

Adam cuts the engine in his SUV, but he doesn't get out. Once he turns off the headlights, reducing the glare, the glow of the porch lights makes it easy to see him through the passenger side window. He's staring forward, his hands gripping the steering wheel, while his sister talks, her hands moving as she does .

"Is he going to get out?" Freddie mutters more to himself than to me. He is nervous. I can see it in the tight line of his shoulders, the way his fists are clenched next to his sides.

I stand up beside him, swallowing past the lump in my throat, but there's no hiding the tremble in my voice. "I'm sure he will eventually."

But he doesn't.

Not for another minute, at least. And a minute when you're standing beside Freddie Ridgefield is a very long time.

Finally, Adam climbs out of his car.

He stops at the foot of the stairs and looks up at Freddie. It takes about ten seconds for his usually stoic expression to break, then he's moving forward, and Freddie is rushing down the steps and pulling Adam into a tight embrace.

Adam hugs right back, confirming that he is, actually, Deke Driscoll, and also telling me he hasn't seen his former bandmate in a very long time.

Sarah appears beside me, her eyes wide and her expression full of concern. She has Adam's blue eyes and wavy blond hair that just reaches her shoulders, and I'm momentarily distracted by how beautiful she is. "So this must be pretty overwhelming for you," she says, her voice gentle. "I'm Sarah, by the way."

I nod even as my eyes shift back to her brother. "Right. And he's…"

I don't even have the words to finish the sentence. At least not out loud.

"He's still the same guy you thought he was an hour ago," Sarah says. "I know it's a lot. But…just remember that."

I want to believe Sarah, but nothing about any of this makes sense. How can sweet, affable, introverted Adam also be an international popstar? Former international popstar ?

An image of Adam running his hands through his hair flashes through my brain, and the weird sense of déjà vu I've had a few times since we've started hanging out suddenly makes sense.

Adam seems familiar because he is familiar. I've watched Deke run his hand through his hair a million times. It's the move he was famous for, and Adam does it exactly the same way.

"I met your fiancée," Freddie says as he finally pulls back from the world's longest hug. He claps Adam on the back. "I can't believe I had to hear you were getting married from Kevin. "

"Wait. What?" Sarah says from beside me. "Fiancée?"

Adam's eyes go wide, and they fill with panic as he looks in my direction.

I should object. Clarify. Say something. But my utter and complete brain jumble seems to have filled my mouth with concrete.

I wait for Adam to protest or explain, but he seems just as tongue-tied as I am.

It's Sarah who finally breaks me out of my stupor. "Um, Laney? Are you okay? You look a little pale."

Adam hurries up the stairs and grabs my elbow, his touch sending heat coursing through my veins. "You do look pale," he says softly. He tugs me toward the bench where I sat with Freddie just minutes ago. "Here. Sit down."

I do as he asks, even as a completely ridiculous thought makes a giggle rise up inside of me. In the past twenty minutes, two different members of Midnight Rush have sat me down on this same bench. The giggle sounds more like a painful snort when it comes out, and Adam lifts a hand to my back, rubbing his palm up and down in a soothing gesture.

It is soothing, and I finally look over to meet his eyes. They are full of concern, a deep furrow creasing his brow, and it's almost enough to anchor me, to make me forget that a hundred miles away in my childhood bedroom, there's still a poster of him hanging beside my bed.

A surge of irrational panic shoots through me.

Or maybe it's embarrassment?

Thinking of Adam as that guy—the guy he was when I was in high school—somehow throws my brain back to that same time. When I was awkward and insecure and so uncomfortable with myself. It doesn't make any sense. I'm not that girl anymore. But I'm in fight or flight mode, and all I want to do is flee. Hide. Go somewhere else, where I can process without so many eyes watching.

I shrug out from under Adam's touch and stand up again. "I think I need to go."

"Laney, please wait."

Adam catches my hand, holding it with a gentle firmness that brings me slightly back to earth. I let him tug me back to the bench, where he drops my hand and wraps both palms around my shoulders. He's wearing a bright red baseball cap, frayed around the edges, and blue flannel over a white t-shirt. It's how I'm used to him looking. How he's looked all these months he been coming into the office, all the times I've imagined him in my mind.

"This doesn't change anything," he says softly. "I'm still me. I just…have a slightly more complicated job history."

I huff out a laugh. "That's one way to put it."

His lips lift in a tiny half grin that makes my heart pinch, because suddenly, I see it .

I see Deke.

Honestly, I have no idea how I didn't see it before. The similarities are so obvious. Those intense blue eyes and thick lashes, his cheekbones and the pronounced curve of his upper lip. I stared at Deke's sixteen-year-old face every day for three years, every time I walked into my room. I can see that face now, or at least a shadow of it, hidden inside this manlier version, but he really does look different.

"It's why you wear the beard," I say, and he nods.

"I like the beard, but yeah. It covers a lot."

The beard is a good disguise. And the hats and the flannel and the height, but now that I know, there's no denying it's him. I feel ridiculous for missing it. For talking to him all this time without thinking, even once, that he looked like Deke Driscoll. He even told me his last name, and I didn't get suspicious, didn't make any kind of connection.

But then, why would I? Why would it ever occur to me that Deke would be here, of all places?

"Can you sit here for one more second?" Adam asks. "Let me take care of Freddie, then we can talk."

When I nod, he quickly stands and runs down the stairs, saying something to Freddie too quiet for me to hear. While I watch, the only thing I can think about is how, when I drove over here, the hope in my heart was that I might be around long enough to see Adam and get the goodbye I wanted at the end of our date. The next time he promised.

If Freddie hadn't shown up, I might have.

And then I would have kissed Deke Driscoll.

Adam and Freddie make their way up the stairs together, where Freddie says a quick hello to Sarah and gives her a hug. Over his shoulder, she meets my eye and makes a face like she can't quite believe what's happening .

It's a small thing, but it goes a long way to making me feel better about my own reaction. She's Deke's sister—Adam's sister? I'm not sure how to think of him now—and she's still freaking out? Maybe I can give myself a pass for the number of minutes I've spent mute, staring at the wooden slats of the porch, trying not to throw up.

Freddie offers me a hesitant, "Nice to meet you, Laney," before he disappears inside, then Adam gestures for Sarah to follow.

"No way," she says once the door is closed between us and Freddie. "Not until you explain to me why he thinks Laney is your fiancée."

I raise my hand. "Yes, please. Me too. I would also like to know the answer to that question."

Adam sighs. "I can explain to you ," he says, looking at me, "but you need to go. Either inside with Freddie or out to the barn or anywhere that isn't here." This last part he delivers to Sarah with an older brother firmness that makes her scowl. They stare at each other, some kind of wordless communication passing between them until Sarah finally caves. "Ugh, fine. I think I'll go check on the dogs," she says pointedly. "It will probably take me a very long time."

And then, finally, I'm alone with Adam.

Alone with Deke.

The first thought that pops into my head is utterly and completely ridiculous. If, by some miracle, I really do find myself in a position to kiss the Adam Deacon Driscoll, I will never—and I mean never —admit how many times I kissed his poster first.