Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Landon

Listen to Jaded

by Miley Cyrus

M y breath caught.

Gabriella flung her arms around his waist and snuggled against him like they were already an item. “Can I grab you for a minute?”

His face became shuttered and it was like our intimate conversation had never happened. “Sure. See ya, Landon.”

He walked away, head close to Gabriella’s, whispering something.

Asshole.

Fuming, I was about to stalk the bar for another drink, but Daisy and Noah cut me off. “We have to get going,” Daisy said in apology. “Will you be okay getting home yourself or do you want to split a cab?”

I waved a hand in the air. “No, thanks, I’m good. Catch up with you tomorrow.”

We kissed and hugged goodbye. I ordered another martini from the bar, and sipped it leisurely, chatting casually with a few people at the bar. Adam and Gabriella had disappeared and obviously wasn’t coming back.

The highs and lows of the past few days hit hard. Suddenly, I wanted to leave. I paid the bill, and slipped out. The evening was darkening, but the streets were filled with touring pedestrians and food trucks and the dinner crowd beginning to leak from the surrounding buildings.

I walked for a while, figuring I’d head home, but my feet hurt and I didn’t want to be alone. I ended up at one of our favorite bars, a shadowy, musty type pub with a big selection of beer, a giant bar, and comfy booths. A pool table and darts were set up in the back with an old school jukebox. It was a regular stop for us, and the bartenders knew me well. I waved and said hello to Jack, and ordered a glass of Chardonnay, which was a passable house brand. It was dead for a Monday night, so I took a seat at the end of the bar and scrolled through my phone, looking for a distraction.

I sifted through my feed and noticed my engagements were down. Crap. I needed to do more live videos but I hadn’t been feeling it lately. I also hadn’t gotten a new sponsorship lately. I wasn’t growing like Gabriella—it seemed I hit a plateau and wasn’t showing the correct enthusiasm to break through. I was beginning to wonder if I really did want this. Yeah, I wanted the outcome—huge amounts of followers, sponsorships, and relative fame. I wanted the reality show notoriety. But did I like the actual work involved to consistently be “on” for the world nonstop?

I used to think so. Now, I had serious doubts. Which led me down a path of sheer terror.

What the hell did I really want to do?

The judgy gaze of my father kept jarring my brain on repeat. Knowing my stepsister was going to be someone under his guidance. The broken dreams of my mom, who’d once been known for her television role in a famous sitcom, then gave it all up for a man who left her. Now, she drank and spent his money with no claim to anything.

What was I truly meant for? Would I ever find it?

“Drowning your sorrows, princess?”

My head shot up. Adam grinned, sitting next to me on the barstool. “You gotta be kidding. Are you following me?”

He ordered an IPA and turned a mocking glance toward me. “No. Why would I?”

My cheeks flushed. “Because I left you cozying up to Gabriella. Unless you had a quick bang in the bathroom and have the rest of the night free?”

His lower lip quirked. “I don’t like bathroom bangs—not my thing. Why do you have such a hard on for Gabby?”

I grit my teeth at him using a nickname for her. It stunk of intimacy. “Because she’s a wanna be. She’s after my boyfriend, my friends, and my followers.”

He threw back his head and laughed. I fisted my hands and glared. “Are you really that full of yourself? She’s got her own stuff going on. I doubt she needs you.”

His comment stung so I stung back. “Yeah? Then why is she practically throwing herself first at Max, then you? Why is she pushing so hard to work with me in my section at Red? Why does she keep stalking my friend group if she has her own life?”

He shrugged and sipped his beer. “I don’t know.”

I shook my head. “Exactly. You know nothing about how women work.”

The smirk was back. “I know how you work.”

I quirked my brow. “Are you really that full of yourself?”

He laughed again, but this time there was a strange prick of pride from getting a reaction. Our banter was legendary and Adam kept me sharp. When one of us struck, there was a genuine respect. The whole dynamic between us was fucked up.

“Figured you’d be home waiting for Max.”

“Nah, he said not to wait up. Figured you’d be celebrating with Gabriella.”

“Nah, she had to head out. Guess it’s you and me.”

I wrinkled my nose and took a sip of my wine. “It was supposed to be just me until you crashed my party.”

“Pity party?”

I refused to let him see my weakness. Admitting I was lost to this man would kill me. He’d already stolen my vulnerability that one night to use in his song. “Just some soul searching. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Bet I would.”

I didn’t intend on answering. It was too dangerous to be with him like this, alone in the shadows, sharing secrets. But I also knew Adam was the only one in the group who had a fucked up family like mine. “I saw my dad. He came into Red with my stepsister.”

He remained silent, letting me gather my thoughts. I continued. “I haven’t seen him in years. He pretty much left me and my mom and started a new family. It was like he got a do-over because his first attempt failed.”

“What did he say to you?”

My laugh held no humor. “He was polite but wanted to know why I was waitressing when I had a degree. Then he compared me to my mother, which wasn’t a compliment. Guess his daughter is heading to Princeton. He bought her a Ferrari for her high school graduation present.” The bitterness seeped in and tried to take root. “Even worse? She was nice.”

“Fucking prick.”

“Yeah. That’s about describes him. Wished me luck and walked out without a glance back. I’m such an idiot to think it’d be any different.”

“Not an idiot. Just a human being who deserves to be loved by her father.”

The simple words soothed the rawness. Somehow, it stripped my expectations and reminded me it was okay to expect certain things. There was no pity or sad hugs or empty platitudes. Only acceptance for a shitty situation.

We drank in brief silence. The television over the bar had the Mets game on. I watched a guy steal second base and make it. The crowd roared.

“My mom left when I was young, too. Dad beat her so she saved herself. She never tried to come back and get me, but I think she was using and addicts can’t think about anything else but getting the next hit.” Adam ordered another beer. He didn’t speak until he got it and had taken a sip. “The first time I wrote a song and played it, he beat me. Said I was too full of myself and I’d never be a musician.”

I winced. My situation sucked but I had no experience with brutality. Like him, I kept quiet and listened.

“My mom liked to sing. Write poetry. It was something we shared together. The one thing I remember before she took off was her reading to me. And we’d make up songs to sing together, trying to build lyrics off of the other. It was pretty cool. Dad hated it. Called me a pussy.”

“How did you manage to push through? Did you ever want to run off like your mom? Or hurt your dad back” I asked gently.

“Hell, yes. I stayed because I wasn’t ready to give up a roof over my head. I got strong enough where he couldn’t beat me anymore. I finished high school and then left. And every time I write a song, it’s a big fuck you to him.”

I reached out automatically, running my thumb over the musical notes tattooed over his fingers. His arms were covered in a scroll of beautiful ink, but I’d never asked what they meant. “So, you’ll never forget,” I murmured. I knew Adam had scars. I imagined the belt and fists hurting him, and wondered if that was why he was able to write beautiful songs.

“That’s right.” I dropped my hand. My fingers tingled from the touch of his skin. “You never answered my question.”

I knew the question but pretended I forgot. “About?”

“How did my song make you feel?”

I stared into my wine glass. If he was intent on pushing, I’d push right back. “Pissed off because you plagiarized me.”

“What are you talking about?”

I looked up. My voice was tight as I regarded him in the shadows. “Don’t pretend not to know. That night outside the bar? I confessed about how I woke up at night, afraid of not being enough. I was drunk and it was a moment of weakness. Why am I surprised you turned it into a song to entertain your groupies?”

Surprise flickered across his face. “Landon, it wasn’t like that. I didn’t write the damn song to make fun of you. It was the complete opposite.”

“Sure.”

He blew out a breath in irritation. “I mean it. I kept thinking about what you said over and over. It was the most honest, raw thing I ever heard. I spent a lot of time working through the layers of that, writing down a bunch of lyrics, trying to nail the exact emotion I felt when you said it. You were the inspiration—not the joke.”

My jaw almost unhinged. He’d never spoken to me in this way. Direct. Honest. Admiring. My head spun. “Oh.”

“That’s why I asked you the question. I wanted to know if I did my job.”

His dark eyes searched mine and inside, locked up in the dark place, a ray of light pierced through. Emotion tangled up in knots as I stared back, fighting this invisible pull between us. How could you hate and want someone in the same breath? How can you love another person yet feel magnetized by another? “Yeah, Adam. You did your job.”

I pushed my glass away and stumbled off the stool. “I-I gotta go.” I heard him say my name but I ignored him, rushing down the hall toward the restroom. I needed a minute to set my head right. Something had changed between us but I wasn’t sure what, or how to handle it. The hate was easy. It was the deeper stuff that fucked with my head.

I washed my hands and steadied myself. Fixed my hair. Took a deep breath. Then walked out and straight into Adam.