Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Adam

Laney and I are standing outside the farmhouse saying goodbye when the press release announcing the concert goes live.

Ivy has been on her phone all morning, making sure everything is set, and I'm confident that once I'm back inside, she'll fill me in on how everything goes. But for right now, I don't want to think about it.

I don't want to get out my phone or talk about it with Laney or wonder what people are saying about us.

I just want to stand here and kiss Laney goodbye without worrying about anything else.

"You know," she says as she arches her neck, revealing a stretch of smooth skin. I lean close, pressing her into the side of her car as I leave a trail of kisses from her earlobe down to her collarbone. She lets out a tiny gasp of pleasure before she finishes her sentence. "I read once that every goodbye kiss should last at least six seconds. "

"Six? Why six?"

"That's how long it takes our brains to dump oxytocin into our bloodstreams. Or maybe it was about intention? A six-second kiss means you really mean it."

I lean back, shifting my hands to her jaw, my thumb sliding over a single freckle on her left cheekbone.

"Should we try it out?" she asks.

I pull her against me, my free hand moving to the small of her back. "We can try. But I can't promise I'll be able to stop at six."

According to the clock, we say goodbye approximately fifty-seven times before I step back and open Laney's car door for her. "Are you sure you don't mind taking Goldie?" I ask.

My dog has spent more time with Laney in the past week than she has with me, and since we're leaving the farm to go to the recording studio in Silver Creek, she'll be on her own all day if she stays here.

"Of course I don't mind," Laney says. "She'll love my mom's house."

"And I'll see you back in Lawson Cove on Sunday?"

She smiles. "You're cute when you're a worried dog dad."

"Sorry," I say. "I'm sure she'll be fine."

"If she isn't, I have her vet's number," Laney says with a playful smirk.

Once she's in her car and buckled in, Goldie in the back seat, she winds her window down, and I lean in to kiss her one more time.

"Stay off the internet, all right?" I say. "I've asked Ivy to monitor stuff. And Sarah already does anyway. They'll let us know if there's anything else about us."

She nods. "Call me later? "

I nod, then step back from the car, watching as she pulls away, Goldie smiling at me through the back window. I'm not sure I've ever actually let Goldie stay with anyone else. The fact that I so easily sent her with Laney is really saying something.

When I get back inside, Ivy is sitting at the table in the breakfast room, laptop open in front of her and phone in her hand.

"How's it looking?" I ask as I grab a blueberry muffin off the buffet behind her.

She looks up. "To put it mildly, the internet has lost its mind."

The rest of the guys show up for breakfast a few minutes later, and Ivy plays a couple videos of fans reacting to the news. It's only been an hour, but the responses are happening fast, and they all seem to involve some combination of crying and squealing and screaming. The Midnight Rush Instagram account, which was recently resurrected by a publicist at New Groove, posted the promo photo of the four of us together at the same time the press release went live, and it already has over ten thousand likes.

It puts us all in a good mood, so we're buzzing when we head out front to the enormous black SUV that I assume will drive us over to the studio.

"Where'd this thing come from?" Freddie says, motioning to the SUV.

Ivy is already there—the woman is somehow ten steps ahead of us at all times—climbing into the front passenger seat, and she shoots Freddie a withering look.

"She really likes to be irritated with you, doesn't she?" Leo asks.

Freddie nods. "It's her favorite hobby. "

I narrow my eyes, wondering if there's something to read between the lines. "Have you guys ever…?" I ask, letting him fill in the blank, mostly so I can see how he responds.

"Me and Ivy? Nah," he says dryly. "She's like a very annoying little sister. Plus, I'm pretty sure she'd rather date Kevin, and she hates Kevin."

Freddie and Leo climb into the third row because they're a little smaller than Jace and me. "Thanks for getting us a car, Ivy," Freddie calls, and she shakes her head and smiles, giving me the sense this is some sort of game between them.

Seeing their connection makes me miss Laney, which is stupid because I shouldn't miss her when she's only been gone a few hours.

Fifteen minutes later, we pull up to Eight Fiddle Studios. Leo was right, and it's a really nice studio. Apparently, some notable folk and bluegrass albums have been recorded here.

We've got a full band with us, keys, bass, drums, and two guys on guitar, and the energy in the studio is buzzing. It feels good to be back, so after we put down "The Start of Forever," none of us really feel like stopping. We end up messing around with a couple of new songs Leo has been working on, then record one of Freddie's, with a harmony line that Leo writes on the spot.

None of it means anything. I doubt we'll do anything with any of it. It's just fun.

I forgot how fun it is.

When we get back to the farmhouse, I want dinner and then a long hot shower…and the chance to collapse into bed and call Laney. We've been texting back and forth all day, mostly with GIFS and memes. But when I was singing "The Start of Forever," all I could think about was her, and I'm an xious to hear her voice. To see how it went when she talked to her family. To make sure she's okay.

But all those hopes die when we find Kevin at the farmhouse.

He's sitting at our dinner table, an empty plate and a half-full glass of wine in front of him.

He stands as soon as we walk in and moves to greet Freddie, pulling him into a quick hug. "You're back! How was it?" He motions toward a buffet table against the wall. "Dinner's great, if you're hungry. The food here is incredible."

Leo and Jace move over to fix dinner plates, but Kevin stops me before I can do the same. He claps me on the back with a little too much enthusiasm, and I force myself to unclench my jaw.

I knew he might show up—I'm actually surprised it took him so long—and I've been anticipating the opportunity to confront him about using my engagement as fodder to build concert buzz. But the thought of having the conversation right now makes me exhausted. I just want to eat and call Laney and not deal with Kevin at all.

Mostly because I know exactly how the conversation will go. If I accuse Kevin of leaking information about my engagement to the press, he will tell me I never asked him to keep it a secret. If I bring up the photo that someone took and leaked, he'll claim ignorance, say he had nothing to do with it.

I know how Kevin operates. He pushes boundaries just enough to get what he wants without crossing any lines. He uses smooth talk and lofty promises and vague statements that he can always claim meant something else if things go south.

Freddie must still trust him, and that says a lot, so I'm willing to be civil, if nothing else. But I don't want to have anything to do with him long term.

"Deke Driscoll," Kevin says. "Good to see you, man. You're looking good." He looks me up and down. "Bigger."

"Yeah, well. I was still a kid the last time you saw me. And it's Adam," I say. "For the third time."

"How has the week been?" he says, completely ignoring my name correction. "Feel good to be back at it? I've been hearing good things about how you sound. Let me just tell you. If you want back in"—he thumps himself on the chest with both hands—"I'm your guy."

He will definitely not be my guy, but I offer him a polite smile anyway.

"The week has been good," I say as I move around him and reach for a plate. I have no idea what we're eating, but it looks and smells amazing. Like some kind of beef pot pie. But honestly, I'd take the distraction of a can of Spam right now if it meant not talking to Kevin. "It went great, even. But don't get any ideas. I meant what I said about this being a one-time deal."

"Come on," Leo says as he carries his plate to the table. "Can you really say that after this week?"

Ivy suddenly appears beside Kevin and holds out her phone. "Just push play," she says. "They recorded this version at the studio today, and they've already added it to the set list."

I distract myself by heaping my plate full of pot pie, adding two enormous yeast rolls from the basket at the end of the table. I don't look up as the music starts, as everyone else quiets and Kevin turns up the volume.

"Damn," Kevin says when the song finally comes to an end. "You guys need to release this. Release a whole new album, if you're sounding this good."

"I don't have any interest in making a new album," I say before anyone else can respond.

Freddie huffs out a laugh. "Man, it really is a miracle we got you to say yes to the concert."

"Actually, that's why I'm here," Kevin says. We're all at the table now, plates full in front of us, but we pause at his words, looking up as a group. He grins. "Concert is now concerts. Nashville, Los Angeles, and Chicago."

I put down my fork, my appetite evaporating in a second, and Freddie shoots me a concerned look before pinning his gaze back on Kevin. "What are you talking about?" he slowly asks.

"Guys, the reaction to this morning's press release has been insane. There's over a million people who entered the ticket lottery. A million! That means not even a tenth of the ones who want tickets are going to get them. This is too big an opportunity. And since Charlotte West has the vocal cord thing and had to cancel three of her shows—her loss is our gain—there are openings at Sofi in LA and United in Chicago. The tour manager is securing everything now," Kevin says. "Your reunion concert is now a three-stop tour. They sent me over to deliver the happy news."

Three shows. They want us to play three shows?

"Kevin, when we talked about this, you said one show, " Freddie says, his voice firm but steady. "When I talked to Adam, he only agreed to one show."

Kevin waves a dismissive hand. "But we knew the label might want more. Do you realize the cash cow these concerts will be? The merch alone."

"Cash cow for them, " Leo says calmly. "If we're Midnight Rush, we're still under the terms of our original deal, and it's crap. You know it is."

"I'm working on that," Kevin says. "A slightly higher cut for the second and third shows." He leans onto the table. "I know this whole idea hatched because Freddie needed the good PR, but this is only going to help the rest of you."

"Sounds amazing," Jace says. "Whatever we need to do. One show, three shows, I'm in." Jace is obviously talking to Kevin, but the whole time he's speaking, his eyes are on me.

"That's what I love about you guys," Kevin says, looking around the table. "You're friends. You have each other's backs. Besides, once you've done all the work for one show, what's two more?"

Under the table, I press my palms against the tops of my thighs. I don't know how to feel right now.

Overwhelmed.

Angry.

Annoyed.

But mostly just frustrated with myself because I should have known this is how things would end up. Everything that already happened with Laney this week is just further evidence that I never should trust anything that comes out of Kevin's mouth, no matter how Freddie feels about him.

"What about the charity?" I ask. My voice is low, and it sounds menacing, and I don't even care. I feel menacing. I push my plate away and lean forward on my arms. "You told me we were doing this for charity. That it was about rehabbing Freddie's reputation, and the charity would help with that."

"You did say that," Freddie adds. "That was part of the deal."

Kevin waves a dismissive hand. "A portion of ticket sales will be donated to charity," he says, like I'm a five-year-old who doesn't understand grown-up math. "Big difference."

"That's not what you said. You mentioned the Breast Cancer Foundation specifically, and you said all ticket revenue. Was that a lie? A ploy to get me to say yes?"

Kevin scoffs. "I would not lie to you, man. I'm sure you misheard me. New Groove lost out on a lot when you walked. They aren't giving up their shot to recoup some of their loss."

"Their loss?" Freddie asks. "They got me , Kevin. And I've made them plenty. Don't throw Adam under the bus for this because you stretched the truth to make him more likely to say yes."

I appreciate Freddie's defense, but Kevin's not the only one at fault here.

A wave of nausea rolls over me, and I force myself to take a deep breath.

I do not like how familiar this feels.

As a whole, we never had a lot of control over Midnight Rush. Mostly, we just sat around while record executives and agents told us what was happening next. We were all less than eighteen, so it was easy to let other, more experienced people call all the shots. But by the end, I felt more like a puppet than an artist.

How many trusted adults encouraged me to hang on just a little bit longer? To trust that Mom would make it to the end of the tour? It was easy to convince myself they were right. That I couldn't turn my back on the money, the fame, or I might risk losing it all.

But then I lost Mom instead.

"That's all water under the bridge," Kevin says. "It's behind us. What matters is that right now, we've got three amazing shows coming up, and you guys are going to kill it." He claps his hands together, like he can gaslight us into compliance with his own enthusiasm. "Who's excited? Are we excited? I'm excited."

I finally turn to face Freddie. He looks…awful. Mortified. Like he had no idea this was going to happen. "You said one show," I say to Freddie. "I agreed to one. "

"I know. I know what I said, and I can fix this. I'll talk to the label. And the charity thing—I told them we needed ticket sales donated in order for this to work, and they said we could talk about it, so I'll make them talk. I'll call Meryl."

"What is there to talk about?" I say, anger finally creeping into my voice. "It's already done. Because just like last time, Kevin is making decisions for us without even talking to us about it."

"Let's all calm down," Kevin says, but I'm already shoving my chair back, standing up from the table.

"The thing is, it isn't like last time," I say. "Because I'm not a kid anymore. And people don't make decisions about my life without talking to me first."

"My back was against a wall, Adam," Freddie says. He's standing now too, shoulders squared as we face off across the table. "I might have gotten a few of the details wrong, but I was honest about why I needed you, and I hoped our friendship would be reason enough for you to say yes. Was I wrong about that part?"

"Yes to one show, " I repeat. "A show that, until right now, I thought would benefit cancer research. Research that might have cured my mom. Let's not forget that part. Clearly, the foundation Kevin mentioned was chosen on purpose. But three shows?" I turn on Kevin. "What else does the label have planned? "

"All the usual," Kevin says. "Half a dozen talk show appearances, mostly late night, plus The Today Show , Kelly Clarkson, Saturday Night Live . Pretty routine stuff."

I shake my head and back away from the table.

"No," I hear myself say. Because what else can I say?

I can't do it. I can't do any of it.

How did I think I could ever walk back into this world and come out unscathed? Of course the label has everything planned. Of course they're taking every opportunity to milk every possible dollar from the situation.

I can't fault Freddie. I believe he believed what he was telling me—that he thought through determination alone, he might be able to pressure Meryl Hendrix and the rest of the New Groove executives into giving him what he wanted. What he thought I needed in order to participate.

But Freddie's optimism has always outpaced his reality. I don't know why I thought this situation would be any different.

"No," I repeat, a little louder this time. "I can't do it."

"Adam," Freddie says. "We can still talk about this. Let me call Meryl. You said you'd do Nashville, so we'll only do Nashville."

"Actually, the Los Angeles show is already live on the website," Ivy says from her seat beside Freddie. "No tickets on sale yet, but they've announced the date and started the lottery." She looks at Kevin. "Really? They picked a date before checking with any of the artists performing the show? Can they do that?"

"They own Midnight Rush," Leo says. "They can do whatever they want."

"They don't own me, " I say sharply. "And I'm not letting them call the shots like this." I hold Freddie's gaze. "I'm sorry, man. I'm out."

Freddie drops back into his chair like he knows he can't argue with me, but then Jace leans back, eyes glittering with anger. "Of course you are," he says quietly. "A quitter doing what quitters do best."

"Jace, don't," Leo says calmly.

"Why shouldn't I?" he says. "Why shouldn't I point out how much Adam screwed over all of us when he walked? When he quit and left Freddie to clean up his mess with the label? All week, we've been acting like it's no big deal. Like we're all best friends again. It's all just water under the bridge. And maybe it is for you," he says, looking at Freddie. "You've got the career you want. But you know what I have right now? A crap marriage and a dead career. And every day, I look in the mirror and wonder if it would have been different. One more album. One more tour with Midnight Rush. Would it have mattered? Given me the edge I haven't been able to find on my own?" He runs a hand through his hair, his shoulders dropping as he fixes his glare on me. "But I'll never know, will I? And that's on you, Deke. "