Code Red by N.R. Walker

Chapter Eleven

Maddox shot me a wild look,shocked, then he looked at Jeremy and he sighed like he was relieved. “I’ll tell you everything,” he said. “But not here.”

Considering where we were, that was a very good idea.

“So I’m right?” Jeremy asked.

Maddox’s reply was quick and definite. “Yes.”

“And you never told me because . . .”

“Because I asked him not to,” I answered.

Jeremy met my eyes and nodded slowly. Someone walked past us and Jeremy gave them a bright, albeit fake, smile before turning back to Maddox. “So the others were just talking to Ryan and Amber about hitting a club. Steve’s gonna flip his shit, but whatever. Don’t suppose you want to join us?”

Maddox shook his head. “Jer, I’m peopled out.”

Jeremy nodded. He knew three hours was about Maddox’s quota of being his public persona. “Didn’t think so.”

“If you want me to go, I’ll go,” Maddox amended.

Jeremy sighed and put his hand on Maddox’s arm. “Nah, it’s okay. I get it. But I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’m riding with you and Roscoe to the nightclub. You can drop me off and it will give you fifteen minutes to tell me everything.”

Maddox nodded. “Deal.”

Jeremy clapped his hands together and grinned. “Good. I’ll go let them know.” And he wandered back to the others, leaving me alone with Maddox.

Maddox shrugged. “Well, I wanted to tell him.”

So that was that.

Ten minutes later, after Steve had organized what needed organizing, the promotional evening was over and it was announced that Atrous was leaving. With security tight, we made our way from the gallery through the restaurant and bar to the waiting vans. The crowd was actually great, very respectful and polite. Though I doubted the nightclub would be the same.

We filed into the van. Maddox climbed straight into the backseat and Jeremy followed, sitting beside him. I sat near the door but turned to face them the best I could.

Jeremy waited for the door to close. He looked at both of us in turn. “You’ve got fifteen minutes.”

“I wanted to tell you,” Maddox began.

“How long?”

“Since this tour.”

Jeremy nodded slowly. “I thought so. Something was different between you. There’s been more staring than usual, more private conversations.”

“It is different,” Maddox answered quietly.

“And it’s complicated,” I added. “Obviously people can’t know.”

Jeremy stared at me like I was stupid. “Well, it might help if you don’t spend every waking minute staring at him like it’s the first time you’ve seen him. Because anyone in that room tonight could have seen it. Or earlier tonight when he first came into the common room and I had to nudge you to pick your tongue up off the floor. And, I might add, the way you’ve been looking at him isn’t exactly PG.”

I tried to respond to that, but what the hell could I say?

Maddox chuckled. “Mmm. How exactly have you been looking at me, Roscoe?”

I shot him a glare and Jeremy put his hands up. “Don’t try being cute. I’m still pissed. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I’ll probably be fired,” I answered. “Or I’ll be Platinum Entertainment’s newest janitor.”

Maddox glared right back at me. “And I told him I won’t let that happen.”

I was going to argue that point, again, but figured this wasn’t the place or time.

“We had a deal,” Jeremy said. “No secrets. That was the deal.”

Maddox shook his head, his teeth gritted. “This is different.”

“How is it?” Jeremy pressed. “Because it’s you?”

“No.” Maddox shook his head. “Because if Ambrose finds out, if they don’t threaten to fire him, then they will sure as hell separate us. And I can’t let that happen, Jeremy, because he’s the one real thing in my life.”

Holy fuck.

The one real thing.

Holy, holy fuck.

Maddox’s face flashed in the passing streetlights. He was staring at Jeremy, pointing his finger at me. “He’s a fucking light when everything else is dark, that’s what he is. You know this!”

Jeremy stared.

“Maddox,” I whispered.

“No, Roscoe,” he shot back at me. “I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to defend the company, say you knew this would become an issue. We talked about this.”

“And you dismissed my concerns.”

“Because some things mean more. That’s why. I don’t give a fuck what Arlo Kim thinks, or Ambrose. Or the fans, or the media. I care what you think. And it’d be a whole lot nicer if you defended me on this. You’re supposed to stand with me on this.”

“I do. I am on your side.” I wanted to touch him so badly, to hold him. “You know I am.”

“And what about me?” Jeremy said. “What about the band?”

Maddox’s eyes went to him. “What about you? Or the band. This doesn’t change anything.”

“Everything you do affects us. Christ, Maddox, haven’t you learned that yet?” He was pissed and I understood. His best friend had basically lied to him for weeks, and me too, a manager he was supposed to be able to trust. But Maddox had spilled some of his heart here tonight, and that was not easy for him to do. Maybe Jeremy realized this because his tone was softer when he spoke again. “Everything you do affects us, Madz. And I know how long you’ve wanted this.”

Maddox’s gaze darted to me, ever so briefly before he looked out the window.

How long he’d wanted what, exactly? Just someone to be with? Or me in particular?

“What if it ends badly?” Jeremy asked quietly. “We’re on tour. We have a fuckton of shows to do, a million miles to travel. We can’t have fights or tension between you two if things go to shit.”

“They won’t,” Maddox replied. He turned his face to me, then to Jeremy. “They won’t.”

Jeremy looked at me. “What about you?”

What about me? Christ. Wasn’t it obvious? If things went to shit, I would be the newest janitor. But then I looked at Maddox, who was waiting for my answer. At his pale face in the dark, his big brown eyes, full of hope and fear. “I won’t hurt him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Two minutes, ETA,” Steve called out from the front. There was a very good chance he’d heard this whole conversation.

A few long seconds passed by in silence. “Jeremy,” Maddox said, his voice strained. “I need your support on this.” His hands were clenched, his breathing shallow. “I can’t have you fight me on this.”

Jeremy sighed. “I’m happy that you’re happy. I only ever want you to be happy. You know that. But it’s not just you and me, and it’s not just you and Roscoe. It’s bigger than that, right? It’s bigger than us.”

Maddox frowned. “We’re allowed to be happy, aren’t we? We’ve given up so much of our lives, of ourselves, Jer. And yeah, we signed up for this, and this level of fame won’t last forever. We should be grateful for the fame and fortune, blah, blah, blah. I’ve heard all that bullshit before. But what’s the point to any of it if it’s killing us?”

Oh, Maddox.

The vehicle slowed and we could see neon lights and crowds out the windows.

“Don’t say anything to the others tonight,” Maddox murmured. He looked defeated, and it broke my heart. “I’ll tell them. Tomorrow, or something.”

Jeremy patted Maddox’s thigh. “I’m not gonna fight you on this, Madz. I’m just concerned, that’s all. But at the end of the day, we stick together, right? If it’s what you want, then that’s all there is to it.”

Maddox nodded, a little happier but not completely sold.

Jeremy looked to me then. “Roscoe, I’m gonna say this as his best friend and not as one of the band members. I probably expected more from you, not gonna lie. And if you do fuck him around, I’ll request you to be my manager, and I’ll make your life so miserable, you’ll request that janitor’s job.”

“Jeremy,” Maddox mumbled. “Christ.”

Jeremy grinned. “I have to say shit like that. It’s my call of duty as your best friend.”

I chuckled as Steve opened the door. Bright lights, humid heat, and noise invaded the van, and Jeremy got to his feet. “Don’t keep him up late. Busy day tomorrow.” He grinned and patted my shoulder as he got out. “And don’t wait up.”

The door closed and Robbie got in the front. He turned to talk to us. “I’m to take you back to the hotel and come back. That all right with you?”

“Sounds great,” I replied. Robbie gave the driver a nod and we began to move, so I quickly slid into the seat next to Maddox. “You okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I guess. He took it pretty well.” He shrugged. “Except for the part where he threatened you.”

I laughed quietly. “I’m glad he’s looking out for you.”

Maddox sighed and let his head fall back on the headrest, still looking at me. He held out his hand, which I took and threaded our fingers. “I’m tired. Functions and publicity events are so draining. Three hours felt like an eternity.”

“You were great tonight. All eyes were on you.”

He smirked. “Apparently yours too. You looking at me was what tipped Jeremy off about us.”

I laughed, not even caring that I blushed. “You have a . . . certain charm that I find attractive.”

He slung his leg over mine again. “And by charm, you mean my ass in these jeans.”

I brought my face in close to his. “Not just your ass. You have no idea of the power you hold when you walk into a room.”

His gaze flickered down to my lips, then back to my eyes. “As soon as we get back to your room, I’m handing every ounce of power I have over to you,” he murmured, voice low. “And you can do whatever you want to me.”

Fucking hell.

“And Roscoe?”

“Yeah?”

“It better include your dick in my ass. Just sayin’.”

I groaned at his words, the heat in his eyes, the heat in my balls.

“You’re not too tired?”

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

It made me smirk. “I know how these nights wear you out. You can be on stage in front of eighty thousand people all night long, but three hours in a room of a few dozen people drains you.”

“Being on stage is easy. There’s a barrier, a performance. But up close and personal like tonight, those people are hard work. They all want something. They all want the famous me, on show, all the time. It’s like a close-contact meet and greet. I’ve never been good with crowds of people up close like that. It’s draining.”

“I know.”

“You do know. You’re one of the few who do. And that’s why,” he said slowly, “you’re going to take me to bed. Make me forget the people, the responsibility, the rest of the world.”

I lifted his hand to my lips and kissed his knuckles. “I can make you forget everything.”

Maddox groaned. “Robbie?” he called out. “How far out are we?”

“Two minutes,” came his reply.

“Can you hurry? I need to piss.”

I nudged him. “You should have said.”

He looked at me. “I don’t need to piss. Jesus, Roscoe. The fuck you been? You just told me you’re gonna fuck me and you think I need to piss?”

I chuckled. “Sorry.”

“Mm, well, now you mention it, I kinda do need to piss, but that’s not the reason I want to hurry.”

The van had barely come to a stop before Robbie was out and had our door open. He ushered us into the elevator lobby and pressed the button. “I can take you two up to your floor,” he said.

“Nah, it’s okay. We’ve got it from here,” Maddox said. “You better get back and make sure Wes isn’t dancing on the bar half-naked.”

The doors opened and we stepped inside. I waved my keycard and pressed our floor number, Robbie waved us off. “Wouldn’t be the first time he’s done that.”

“No, it would not,” I mumbled as the doors closed.

Maddox pulled me against him by the waistband of my jeans. “Speaking of first times . . .”

I kissed him then, pushed up against the mirror in the elevator. He opened his mouth for me, lifted his leg to hitch around my hip. I kissed him deep and he welcomed it. I ground my hips against him and he groaned.

The elevator doors opened and I shot back, not realizing we were on our floor already. Maddox laughed, grabbed my hand, and led me to my room.

He walked in first, tossed his hat, and pulled off his shirt before he disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the toilet seat go up and then the sound of him peeing. “Ugh. Do you know hard it is to piss with a semi?” he asked.

I laughed as I sat at the table and undid my boots. He appeared a minute later, his jeans undone. His sculptured body rippled in the dim light, his sleeve of tattoos, his long earrings, his pink lips . . .

He walked over and put his foot on my thigh. “Can you please help me with my boots?”

I did, of course, but this wasn’t about his boots. This was about him standing over me, with his pants undone, and his crotch in my face. When I pulled off his second boot, he straddled my legs and sat on my lap, grinding and rocking. He smiled as he kissed me. “Make me forget,” he murmured against my lips.

I gripped his hips and stood up, carrying him to the bed. I laid him on his back gently and he smiled. I pulled his jeans off and he watched, delighted, as I stripped off my clothes. His gaze raked down my body and he licked his lips. “Fuck yes.”

I found the condoms and lube he’d thrown toward my suitcase earlier and I tossed them up onto the bed beside him. He ripped open the box, leaving some condoms and the lube within easy reach. He watched me roll one onto my cock while he stroked himself, then he turned over onto his belly, spread his thighs, and raised his ass.

Right, then.

He wanted to forget, he wanted to experience that place where nothing exists but pleasure, and so help me God, I wanted to take him there.

I took care of him, massaging and gentle touches, teasing and tempting, and I kissed every inch of skin. I slicked him up and stretched him until he begged me, threatened me with “Please, please, please stop teasing and start fucking.”

He gripped the comforter, rolling his hips. “Roscoe, I need more. I need you. I need you inside me. Give it to me, please.”

I pulled my fingers out of him, added a lot more lube, then positioned myself over him. I pressed the blunt head of my cock to his hole and leaned over him, desperate to push in but holding back.

I kissed the back of his head, his neck, and sucked his ear into my mouth as I pushed inside him.

He was tight and hot, slick and welcoming. He felt so good it took every ounce of control for me not to ram into him. I kept my weight on my elbows, kissed his shoulder, his neck, giving him time. “Oh god, you feel so good.”

Maddox whined and his breathing was rough. He pushed his forehead into the mattress, arching his back. “Fuck.”

I stilled, half inside him, desperate for more. “Are you okay?” I breathed.

He moaned but I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad, so I slowly pulled out. “What . . . what the fuck?” he cried.

I flipped him over and while he was still trying to find which way was up, and where to put his legs, I lifted one knee up to his chest and pinned one hand above his head. His mouth fell open, his pupils dilated. “Now I can see you,” I murmured before kissing him, hard and deep.

He brought his other knee up and I pinned his free hand above his head as I pushed back into him. His eyes rolled back in his head, his back arched, and he welcomed me inside his body.

I kissed him, my tongue finding his, and he groaned deep in his throat as I began to thrust slow and deep.

This was better. This was so much better.

I could see his face. I could watch his eyes, see every flicker of emotion, every ounce of pleasure. His cheeks flushed pink, strands of his black hair fell across his forehead, his neck corded with the strain . . .

I needed a better word than beautiful.

I let go of his hands and cupped his face, sweeping his cheekbone with a thumb. “God, you feel so good,” I breathed, trying not to thrust too hard.

He brought his arms down and gripped my ass, pulling me in harder. “Fuck, Roscoe,” he groaned, pushing his head back. “Right there. Oh, god. More.”

So I gave him more. I drove into him, lifting his legs a little higher, and his eyes went wide, his mouth opened in surprise. He reached for his cock, pumping and sliding as I fucked him. His body jerked, his back arched, and he cried out as he came. His ass clamped around my cock as he painted stripes of come across his belly.

I didn’t stop. I didn’t give him a second to breathe. I kept fucking him through his orgasm, chasing my own pleasure until it became too much. He was too tight, too hot, too slick, too much, and I was so far inside him, buried to the hilt. I came so hard . . . so fucking hard.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, bringing me in for a kiss. He thrust his tongue into my mouth and I convulsed as my orgasm ran its course. The room was spinning; every synapse buzzed and sizzled.

The only thing in the world in that moment was him.

He held me as tight as I held him, and we were a sweaty, sticky, panting mess, yet neither one of us moved. Reluctantly, I pulled out of him, took care of the condom, and quickly rolled us onto our sides and wrapped him up in my arms. I kissed the side of his head, nuzzling into his hair. “You okay?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, sleepy and content.

I rubbed circles on his back. “We should shower.”

“Mm-mm. More circles.”

Smiling, I drew more patterns on his back, lightly scratching blunt fingernails in swirls and circles. I could have so easily fallen asleep right there, and I was pretty sure he was close to nodding off too. So I pulled back, cupped his face, and kissed him. Soft, with a hint of tongue. “Steaming hot shower?”

“Only if you wash me,” he murmured into my neck. “And I think I’ll stay here tonight.”

“Oh, is that right?”

He opened his eyes, heavy lidded, smiling. “Gonna make fucking me again at three in the morning a whole lot easier if I’m still here.”

I laughed and rolled off the bed, heading for the shower. Yes, I washed him, yes, I dried him, and yes, I went back to bed with him, held him in my arms, and drifted off to sleep.

And yes, I fucked him again at some ungodly time. He stayed on his front and I rolled on top of him, spread his legs, and buried myself in him, over and over. Over and over, again and again, and he writhed and rocked, murmured nonsensical things. He gripped the pillows and the sheets, he lost himself, gave himself over.

He wanted me to make him forget everything, and that was what I gave him. I took him to that place where nothing else matters. And when we were done, I took care of him, cleaned him up.

He smelled like me, and I smelled like him, and that pleased some primal part of me. He snuggled into me, clung to me, and I loved every second of it. I ignored the unfamiliar knock of my heart, the foolish butterflies in my belly, and closed my eyes.

Atrous wasin the news again the next morning. The promotional gig had been a hit. Approved photos were posted and the reviews were good. There were a few fan pics of us leaving the venue and getting into the vans but nothing that hadn’t been seen a thousand times before.

The boys’ night out at the club had been a highlight on local Miami TV channels, and social media, of course. Photos of them arriving at the club, photos of them inside, drinking and dancing, laughing, even though every article mentioned Maddox’s noticeable absence—and mine—overall it was pretty good.

There was no mention or any photos of the boys bringing company back to the hotel, so that was a blessing. Given the lewd conversation at breakfast, the fact no one was photographed with them was clearly a testament to Amber and Ryan’s management skills. There were smug smiles and knowing smirks pertaining to the action they got, and Maddox just laughed along with them. He made jokes and teased them, like it was any other day . . . like he hadn’t had his brains fucked out twice.

Jeremy tried though. He shoved Maddox. “Shame you didn’t get any last night,” he said, his grin wide. “Plenty of hot guys there. You totally could have had your pick.”

Maddox screwed his nose up. “And been rewarded with crabs. No thanks. Speaking of that.” He looked over to Amber, Ryan, and I but waved his hand at his bandmates. “Can we get them deloused before tonight. Or fumigated or something. I have to share a dressing room with them.”

They piled on him, literally. He ended up flat on the couch with the four of them piled on top of him, squashed and laughing, but it was funny. And at least it changed the subject.

We spent the day at the stadium doing stage rehearsals and sound checks, and after a group session in the gym, it was an early dinner and we called it a night. Miami was hot and humid, and after partying the night before and working hard all day, everyone was beat and turned in early.

I knocked on Maddox’s door just after nine. He smiled like the cat just about to eat the canary as I entered, and he locked the door behind me. “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he purred. “Or, more to the point, what you did to me last night and what you can do to me again tonight.”

I pulled a seat out at the table and sat down. “About that . . .”

He stopped; his smile faded. “What about it? Oh Christ, you’re here to tell me you’re done, aren’t you?”

“I’m done?” I asked, quite frankly a little stunned. We’d had such a good day. “No. Why would you think that?”

“You have that apologetic look on your face. That look that says this is for your own benefit, even though it’s not.”

I stood up and took his face in my hands. “I’m not done with you, not by a long shot, okay?” He nodded, though there was a genuine vulnerability in his eyes that hurt to see. “Believe me, Maddox, last night was . . . special to me.”

He smiled then, the kind that sparked light in his eyes. It didn’t last long. “There’s a but coming.”

He really did know me.“But I don’t think we should have a repeat of last night tonight, or any night before a concert.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I don’t want you to be sore when you’re on stage. You give two hundred percent on that stage, and I don’t want to risk you overexerting yourself. If you’re a bit sore or whatever, then—”

“Oh my god, you’re serious. Roscoe, I’m fine.”

He was affronted and possibly a little offended, which was not what I wanted at all. I took his hand and sat on the dining chair, pulling him into my lap. He pouted a little, though he did put his arm around my neck. “Listen, please. I don’t want you to be mad at me,” I began. “But we need to be responsible. We can’t give anyone a reason to suspect anything to begin with, but we also can’t give anyone cause to separate us. And it’ll just be the night before each concert, that’s all. And that doesn’t mean we can’t do anything else, baby. I can think of a dozen different ways to get you off without fucking you into the mattress.”

Maddox’s smile was slow spreading. “Hold on, wait up.” He wiggled his bony ass on my lap. “Two things. First one, I want to hear more about the dozen different ways to get me off. Honestly, you probably should have just led with that and saved us both some trouble. And second . . . you called me baby.”

I laughed. “Did I? I don’t remember that.”

Keeping his arm around my shoulder, he straddled me and forced my face up so he could kiss me. “Are you taking it back?”

I smiled against his lips. “Not at all . . .”

He pinched my chin between his thumb and finger. “Say it again.”

“Which part?”

He pinched my chin harder and rolled his hips, grinding himself on my crotch. “You know which part. Say it again.”

I tried to kiss him but he pulled back just far enough so I couldn’t, so I gripped his hips instead. “I can make you come a dozen different ways.”

He snarled. “Wrong answer. I mean, it’s not wrong, but it’s not the answer I’m talking about and you know it. So maybe I’ll decline your offer and you can leave.” He went to stand up but I grabbed him and held him tight.

“Baby,” I said, smiling up at him. “I can get you off in ways you’ve never imagined, baby. I could kiss you all night long, baby. I wanna sleep in your bed, in your arms, all night long, baby.”

His smile was possibly the most beautiful, most genuine I’d seen on him in all the years I’d known him. He leaned down and kissed me. “You’re lucky, Roscoe. Right answer.”

“I tried.”

He kissed me again. “Hmm. Now . . . what about this dozen ways to get me off that I’ve never imagined. I’m very interested in hearing about those.”

I gripped his hips and stood up, carrying him. He laughed as I threw him onto the bed and crawled up his body. “Okay, so,” I said, undoing his jeans. “This is number one.”

It was hotterthe next day than it had been all week, and to make matters worse, it was concert day. There’d been measures put in place for the crowd, water stations and misters to name a few, and we’d made sure we had extra ice packs, water, and electrolyte pouches for the band and stage crew.

It was going to be brutal.

The dressing room and green room were all air conditioned, but directly backstage was not. It was a stadium so the stage was open to the elements, and even though it was an evening concert, it was still far too hot and humid.

The call was made not to run through a full dress rehearsal, and there were some last minute changes to the choreography. They needed to cut their exertion down. Those boys could, in a three-hour concert, dance and run the equivalent to an eight-mile race.

“Be careful tonight,” I whispered to Maddox. They were all dressed and ready to go, we could hear the roar of the crowd, and I was helping him with his earpiece. “It’s hotter than hell out there.”

He gave me a nod. “Yes, Dad.”

“If you want me to play daddy, that means I get to spank you,” I murmured, and he barked out a laugh. “Don’t overdo it. Pace yourself.”

He grinned. “I’m sorry, what was that? You said the words daddy and spank, and I got sidetracked.”

I sighed and went to help Wes with the cord on his earpiece. “Take it easy tonight,” I said, aiming for them all to hear. I had to lift the back of Wes’s shirt and feed the cord through. Why on earth he’d put his shirt on first, I’d never know. But Maddox was soon beside me, reaching up Wes’s shirt and pulling the cord through. He shot me a very quick look that I couldn’t read. Was he pissed off? Was he worried what others might think? I helped all the bandmates with their gear, with their outfit changes, with whatever they needed help with. It was my job.

I could feel someone’s eyes on me, and when I looked up, Jeremy was watching. He was kind of smirking, a bit surprised, maybe. Until Maddox shot him a glare too, and then Jeremy began to sing a not too familiar song. It certainly wasn’t one of theirs. He danced all sexy-like and Luke hollered, “Sing it, queen,” and Maddox shoved Jeremy so hard he almost fell. But they all laughed and were soon hyping each other up as they walked through the corridors to the stage entrance.

Amber, Ryan, and I followed, of course. Ryan was discussing something with the stage crew manager; Amber was giving the boys final instructions about the new set breaks.

I was trying to place that damn song . . .  I couldn’t really concentrate over the noise and the voices, and the damn heat back here was stifling. But the way Jeremy danced, the higher pitch, the catchy tune . . .

It took me a second.

It was “Jealous” by Beyonce.

Jealous.

Was Maddox jealous because I lifted Wes’s shirt?

Holy shit.

The roar of the crowd got my attention, and I snapped out of my own head in enough time to watch the five of them take their place on the elevated platform to rise up through the stage. The crowd went off like a sonic boom.

“They’re not going to take it easy,” Amber yelled over the noise.

I shook my head. “No, they won’t. Jeremy and Maddox in particular.”

She made a less-than-impressed face, her brow beaded with sweat. It was hot back here. Too damn hot. They’d brought in industrial-sized fans that kept the air moving, but it was hardly enough. The stage crew were already red-faced and sweating; they ran, lifted, pushed, carried non-stop behind the scenes, and when the first set was done, they did it in triple time.

The boys came off stage for a change of shirts and much needed drinks, dripping with sweat like they’d been put under a hose. I handed them each an energy gel pouch. “Have these.”

They washed them down with bottles of water in between getting wet shirts peeled off, patted dry, and fresh shirts put on. Wardrobe, hair, and make-up staff moved around them, maneuvered them like mannequins, and with the precision of a race car pit crew, they were back on stage.

Amber, Ryan, and I watched them on the live-feed screens for the whole next set. They still gave one hundred percent, they sang and danced, and despite the heat and humidity, the crowd roared and cheered.

But I could tell it was taking its toll. Jeremy bent over with his hands on his knees after one song, Blake was flat on his back, and Luke helped him to his feet and gave him a bit of a cuddle. All the Bluke fans screamed, but the truth was Blake was struggling.

And Maddox . . . well, he danced harder and sang harder than any of them, like he always did. He was flushed, his hair was drenched, his wet shirt clung to him, giving the entire stadium audience a pretty visual. The white fabric didn’t leave much to the imagination.

The crowd fucking loved it.

They drank all their bottles of water, spraying the crowd as they continued to dance and sing, but at the end of the second set when they came off, all five of them almost collapsed. I passed out more of the energy gel pouches as they were wiped down. They looked like they’d all climbed out of a swimming pool, that’s how wet they were.

We had ice packs on the backs of their necks, and the hair crew didn’t even bother. Make-up was more of a clean-up at this point, and fresh T-shirts were pulled over their heads.

“You have to slow down,” Ryan told them. “Forget the choreography. Just keep it calm. You’ve got five songs to go.”

The five of them had their heads down, their shoulders heaved with ragged breaths. I grabbed a towel and patted down Maddox’s hair and the back of his neck. “Take it easy,” I said. I meant it for all of them, though for Maddox in particular. “Just sing. Slow it down.”

“They came to see us perform,” Maddox replied. “They didn’t pay full price for half a show.”

I dabbed a line of sweat rolling down from his temple. “They didn’t pay to see you pass out.”

“Professional performers know how to adapt to circumstances,” Amber said.

I managed to half dab Wes’s forehead when Maddox pulled the towel from my hand. He ran it over his face and stood up before he tossed it to Wes. “Five songs. We just gotta get through five songs. Come on, guys. Let’s do this.”

They each got to their feet and put their hands in the middle. “Atrous,” they said in unison, though it was hardly a war cry.

Five songs may as well have been five hundred.

Of course, they didn’t slow down, they didn’t stop dancing. If anything, Maddox danced harder, sang louder, like he had something to prove. They gave one hundred percent and he gave 110.

But they got to the fifth song. The last song. I don’t know how, but they did. Jeremy pulled his shirt off over his head to a massive roar and threw it into the crowd. They waved goodbye as the crowd cheered, they stood on the center elevator about to disappear into the stage. Like they always did, like they’d done a thousand times.

The stage lowered and the five of them were doubled over, resting hands on their knees. Jeremy fell to his ass, panting, sweating like I’d never seen. Maddox stood to his full height, turned, and swayed. Drenched and red-faced, he made eye contact with me. He reached for a pole, missed it completely, and crumpled to the floor.

I ranto him and rolled him onto his back, and he groaned. His eyes were half closed, he was pale, his hair stuck to his face. “Maddox,” I said, gently tapping his face. He stirred and moaned. Heat was radiating off him but his skin felt cool to the touch.

“I need water and ice,” I yelled. “Now!”

I lifted him off the platform and laid him on the ground, right there, backstage in front of everyone. He was dead weight, offered no resistance. His head fell back, and his arms were limp. I tapped his face again. “Maddox.”

Amber was there with ice packs and wet towels. She put an ice pack on his forehead, and I shoved one up under his shirt to lay it on his chest.

Maddox stirred and tried to sit up. I put my hand on his chest. “Stay there,” I urged.

Jeremy was suddenly beside me. “Is he okay?”

“We need to cool him down,” I said. Christ, it was hot back here. And there were too many people standing around watching, and there was no freaking air. “We need to get him into the air conditioning.”

Without waiting, I picked him up and carried him through the crowd of worried onlookers.

I heard Amber yell, “Where is the fucking doctor?”

I don’t know who she yelled at, but she was right. He was our team doctor and he was nowhere in sight.

Wes held the door open to the dressing room and I ran in, laying Maddox on the floor. It was so much cooler in here already, but we needed to get Maddox’s core temperature down before this heat exhaustion became heat stroke.

“We need to get his boots and socks off,” I said, and Blake and Luke made quick work of them. With my hand at the back of Maddox’s neck, I half sat him up and pulled his sopping wet shirt up and over his head, feeding his arms through it like a parent does with a toddler. I gently laid him back down and put the ice pack back on his chest, and Ryan was there now with an ice pack on Maddox’s forehead and one under his neck. I unbuttoned his pants about to pull them off when Hardwick raced in, coming to his knees beside me. He was a nice guy, about forty, and looked a bit like Denzel Washington.

But he should have been here already, and I was about to rip him a new asshole until I saw him. He looked like he’d been in the same swimming pool as Maddox.

“Sorry, we’ve got crew members down as well,” he said, not taking his eyes off Maddox. He was feeling for a pulse. “Is he coherent? Has he been talking?”

“’M okay,” Maddox mumbled. His breathing was still labored, like he couldn’t get enough air.

“Should I call an ambulance?” I asked, assuming someone hadn’t already. I looked around for anyone else. “Has someone called an amb—”

“No hospital,” Maddox said, his voice quiet. He swallowed hard. “I’ll be fine. Just need a second.”

“Maddox,” I said, aiming for calm. “You’re not fine.”

He opened his eyes and focused on me. “I said no hospital.”

“He’s okay,” Wes joked. “He’s arguing with Roscoe. He’ll be fine.”

“Maddox, I need you to drink this,” Hardwick said, putting a bottle of electrolytes to his lips. He propped up Maddox’s head to help him drink, and then Julio, the physical therapist, appeared on the other side of Maddox. He had a medic bag with him and I figured a few years at university studying human anatomy and biology made him more of an expert than me, so I got out of their way.

I stood up and moved to Maddox’s feet, looking on for what felt like an eternity. Wes, Luke, and Blake were looking on too, as were Amber and Ryan. Jeremy stood beside me. He looked wrecked too: hot, drenched, and exhausted but concerned about his best mate. “Will he be okay?”

I met his gaze. “How about we get you guys cooled down too.”

“I’m okay,” he began to say.

Hardwick looked up at him, then pointed to the four bandmates. “Boots and socks off, shirts off,” he barked. “Sit down, drink electrolytes, and sip water. Now, or you’ll get a firsthand lesson about delayed onset.”

Couldn’t have said it better myself.

“Will he be okay?” Jeremy asked him.

Hardwick nodded. “He should be fine. Thanks to Roscoe’s quick thinking.”

Maddox lifted his hand up, barely. “Roscoe?”

I knelt beside him. “Yeah?”

He still held his hand up so I took it and his fingers latched onto mine with about all the strength I figured he had. “Stay with me.”

“Yeah, of course,” I replied, knowing full well that we were holding hands in front of everyone and trying not to care.

Julio went to check on Wes, Luke, Blake, and Jeremy. I put my other hand to Maddox’s chest, his neck, and then his forehead. “He’s not as hot now.”

Maddox snorted, his voice weak. “I beg your fucking pardon.”

The doctor laughed. “Not that kind of hot. Maddox, you almost cooked yourself. You’re lucky Roscoe was here.”

“You have no idea how true that is.” Maddox smiled, though he was still obviously not back to himself. He lay there, slow breathing for another minute or two. “Hey, doc, um, I should probably have someone stay with me tonight, right?”

Hardwick completely missed Maddox’s point. “You’re going to need to take it easy, yes. But it wouldn’t hurt to have someone on standby. Just in case. If you get headaches or dizziness, a rapid heart rate or blurred vision, you should call an ambulance.”

“Roscoe will stay with me,” Maddox said.

Hardwick looked to me and I rolled my eyes. “What about if he’s more demanding than usual or argues too much? Can I call for an ambulance then? Have him taken away?”

“You’re not funny,” Maddox complained.

Hardwick smiled and took Maddox’s blood pressure one more time. “Okay, you can try sitting up in a few minutes. Keep sipping those electrolytes,” he said, patting Maddox’s shoulder as he stood up to go check on the others.

It left just me and Maddox. He didn’t appear to be letting go of my hand any time soon, so I sat on my ass beside him. “You scared the shit outta me,” I whispered.

“Scared me too,” he replied. “Felt like the air had a pulse. I just couldn’t seem to breathe and I knew I was too hot.”

“Feel better now?”

“Better. Except the receiver is sticking into my ass.”

Each earpiece had a small black receiver, about the size of a wallet, that fit into their back pocket. It was hard plastic and couldn’t have been comfortable. “Here,” I said, gripping his hip and rolling him onto his side. I slid the receiver out of his pocket and gently rolled him back, making him smile. He was holding the ice pack from his chest, but he now had goosebumps. “You cold now?” It was probably nothing, given he was shirtless, barefoot, covered with ice packs.

“A little. I wanna sit up. I need to sit up.”

He held his hand out again and I pulled him up into a sitting position. His knees were bent and he kinda slouched. He looked better but still exhausted. “Just give yourself a second to adjust,” I said.

He nodded. “I’m okay. I wanna go sit with the boys.”

Jeremy, Wes, Luke, and Blake were sitting on the couches. From what I could tell, Hardwick and Julio were about done with them. “Okay, then let’s get you up. You sure you feel okay?”

He smiled at me with something in his eyes that made my heart thump. “Thank you. For looking after me.”

God, I almost caressed his face. “Anytime.”

I stood up and pulled Maddox to his feet. I held onto him for a second, making sure he didn’t get dizzy or sway, and with my arm around his waist, I helped him over to the couch and sat him next to Jeremy.

I thought they might have ribbed him for being dramatic or something, but they were only concerned, asking him how he felt and how they’d never seen someone hit the ground so hard. I handed Maddox the bottle of electrolytes he hadn’t finished. “Sip this.”

“It tastes terrible,” he griped.

I was just about to tell him I didn’t care how it tasted when the doors banged open and Ambrose walked in. “How is he?”

Maddox gave a half-attempt at a wave. “He’s here. He’s fine.”

Ambrose crossed the room in long strides, concerned. He asked them all how they were feeling and declared in the future they’d be canceling any concert if the heat was too much. I’d believe that when I saw it.

But apparently his most important piece of news was that apparently the whole world already knew Jeremy and Maddox had collapsed, and Ambrose was preparing to give a brief press release in a few minutes.

“I didn’t collapse,” Jeremy said. “I just fell onto my ass.”

“How did they know?” Luke asked. “We were backstage?”

“But not completely out of view. When the platform lowered down, they saw you two fall,” Ambrose said, looking at Jeremy and Maddox. “You can see it on the footage. Jeremy kinda drops, but Maddox sways and falls. It’s all over social media. There are a lot of upset fans right now so I need to let them know you’re okay.”

Maddox went to stand up. “If you need me to show face—”

“No,” Jeremy and I said in unison. That earned me a few strange looks, but I didn’t care. “Maddox, let him worry about that. You were told to rest.”

“Yeah,” Jeremy added. “The last thing you wanna do is go live all pale and shit or pass out mid-interview. Christ, could you imagine?”

“Yeah, they’re right,” Ambrose said quickly. Though I was pretty sure he’d have loved for Maddox to join him on camera. “You let me worry about it. I’m just glad you’re okay. That everyone’s okay. We’ve got a few of the stage crew and sound crew who are being tended to as well. But I’ll go set the record straight to the public and put some worried minds to rest.” Then he looked directly at me. “Roscoe, a word . . .”

I followed him out to the corridor, out of the air conditioning to where the air was hot and thick. “I heard your quick actions with Maddox made all the difference tonight. I just wanted to thank you.”

“Everyone did their part,” I replied, playing it down. “But can you do me a favor?”

He cocked his head. “Sure.”

“Don’t mention me in any of your damage-control reports to the media. Don’t say it was me who carried him or half-stripped him or saved him or whatever. Please. We don’t need any more hype around him or me, and I’m sure security would agree.” He probably didn’t like me telling him how to do his job, but I held his gaze. “Maddox certainly doesn’t need any more stress right now.”

Ambrose gave a nod, but whether he agreed with me or not, I couldn’t tell. What he was going to say to the public was anyone’s damn guess. “Oh,” I added, “the doc said it was probably best Maddox not be left alone tonight, in case he gets dizzy or begins to feel sick. Maddox volunteered me.”

“You?”

“He’d rather have me in his room than someone he doesn’t know.”

“Fair enough.” He nodded with a serious expression. “He wasn’t in good shape, I heard.”

I shook my head. “It wasn’t good. They were all ragged, and it’s only because Maddox goes the hardest on stage that he was the one to actually collapse. Jeremy wasn’t far behind him. There really needs to be a contingency plan put into place for days like today. I was about ready to put him in an ambulance, and I don’t need to tell you how that would look.”

Ambrose nodded again.

“We fly out for Buenos Aires the day after tomorrow,” I reminded him, though I was certain I didn’t have to. “And I’m assuming that’s only if the doc gives Maddox a green light.”

“I’ve spoken to Hardwick already,” Ambrose replied. “He said he should be fine to fly in thirty-six hours. Next concert is in five days. Rest day tomorrow should help him recover. But the doctor will explain all that to him.”

I nodded at that. Of course Ambrose would have asked about the next concert. Though I could hardly blame him because Maddox would be on that stage in Argentina if it killed him. “I better get back in there. Good luck with your press release.”

As soon as our conversation was over, his assistant swooped in with a clipboard of notes and a make-up technician began dabbing at his face. I went back inside to find the boys still on the sofas, eating around a coffee table. Maddox saw me, acknowledged I was back in the room, and went back to his plate. He was now wearing a shirt and I was glad he was eating something; that was a good sign, surely.

Ryan waved me over to where he and Amber were standing by the far table. There was a plate of food piled high. “Catering left it for you,” Ryan said.

“Thank you.” I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.

Amber nodded toward the door. “What did Ambrose want?”

I shrugged and had to finish chewing my first mouthful. “Same old. He’s holding a press conference. He’s in damage-control mode.” I told them what was said in the corridor in between shoving food in my face. “I haven’t looked online. Has everyone gone mad with the rumors?”

“Pretty much,” Ryan said.

“Well, I’m not looking at that bullshit tonight. I’m getting him back to the hotel and pretending none of it exists until I’ve had at least five hours sleep.”

They chuckled, because they understood the media craziness.

“Oh,” I added. “And I’m in with Maddox tonight. To keep an eye on him. Doctor’s orders and Ambrose approved it. If you need me and you’re wondering where I am. I’ll be lucky to get five hours sleep on that couch in his room.”

Amber side-eyed me, guessing damn well I wasn’t taking the couch. She didn’t say anything, thankfully, and before Ryan could swallow down his mouthful to speak, Maddox called me over. I took one last bite before discarding my plate on my way over to him. “Can we go?” he asked. “I need to go.”

“I think the doc wanted to see you first,” I said, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. “I’ll go find him. Have you had enough to eat?”

He nodded, and I could see his plate was half empty. “I really need to piss,” he said.

“Thanks for that,” I deadpanned, and Jeremy and Wes laughed.

The doctor was in the corridor talking to some of the stage crew, and he quickly wrapped up their conversation when he saw me. “How is he?”

“Better, I think. He’s eaten, not much, but that’s nothing new. He wants to leave. He’s just using the bathroom.”

“Good. If he pees, he can go.”

“Pardon?”

“Dehydration and heat exhaustion. I need to know if he has any problems with urination. It means his kidneys—”

“Oh. Uh, sure. Of course.”

We went back into the room and waited until Maddox came out of the restrooms looking rather pained. Oh hell. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

“I went in there without shoes on. Of course I’m not okay. Christ.” He lifted his foot up, looking at the sole with disgust.

I laughed, relieved. I went in search of wet wipes while he tried to smear his feet on Blake and Luke.

He was clearly feeling much better.

I packed up his gear, and by the time he had his boots back on, we were ready to go. The other boys were packing up and wouldn’t be far behind us, but Maddox looked utterly beat. He almost fell asleep on me in the van on the way back to the hotel. I put my arm around his shoulder and he leaned against me, and we both just reveled in the silence.

I showered with him, scrubbing him clean, kissing him softly on his lips, his eyelids, his cheek, his shoulder. I dried him off and we climbed into bed, naked.

There would be no sex tonight, but it was warm and intimate, and everything Maddox seemed to need.

I needed it too.

There in the dark, the outline of his face lined in silver light, his dark eyes on mine. I thumbed his eyebrow. “You scared me tonight,” I whispered. “When you fell. Scared the life out of me.”

“Scared me too.”

“You were so pale and hot. You were all floppy and the heat coming off you was . . . frightening.”

“I overworked myself.”

“I told you not to go so hard on stage tonight. It was too hot, and you give too much of yourself.”

“I don’t want anyone to be disappointed. The fans. They come a long way and spend a lot of money to come see us. I don’t want to let anyone down.”

“Even if it kills you?”

He frowned. “I’ll know next time when to pull back a bit.”

“Just a bit?”

He almost smiled. “If I don’t pass out, then you can’t be my hero and save me and take care of me.”

I kissed him chastely and brushed his hair back from his face. “I’ll save you and take care of you anytime. You don’t need to almost kill yourself to get me to do that.”

He smiled sadly. “I’m sorry I scared you. But thank you for being with me.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“What do you think Ambrose said in his press release?”

I shook my head. “Let’s not worry about that tonight.” I was sure the internet was a disaster zone right now, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. “There are more important things tonight.”

He snuggled into his spot in the crook of my arm, his head on my chest with my arms wrapped tight around him. “Go to sleep, baby.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, quickly drifting off.

I kissed the side of his head, breathed in the smell of him, and closed my eyes.

The next morning,I checked the social media fallout while Maddox showered. There was a lot of noise about Maddox, and yes, he was trending and the footage of them had gone viral. But Ambrose’s little press release was effective; the hysteria died down, and posts of concern became posts of well-wishes.

Thankfully Ambrose hadn’t mentioned me and I was relieved not to see my name tangled with Maddox’s for once.

Maddox came out dressed in his usual black outfit. “Did you see Twitter?” he asked. “And TikTok?”

I nodded. “I was expecting worse.”

He half-smiled. “Same.” Then he patted his belly. “I’m so hungry.”

I stood up and planted a kiss on his mouth. “Then let’s get you fed.”

We went to the common room where breakfast was laid out. It was technically a free day, so there really wasn’t anyone buzzing around too much. Amber and Ryan had the morning off, but Wes, Luke, Blake, and Jeremy were already there, though from their wet hair and half-full plates of food, I deduced they hadn’t been there long.

But I knew something was off. The way the boys were acting, the sidelong looks, the glances, the silences. Maddox took his iced coffee and plate of fruit and sat next to Luke on the couch. I pretended not to be watching, but then Jeremy called me over. “Roscoe, got a sec?”

Shit.

This wasn’t going to be good.

I sipped my coffee, aiming for casual. “Sure, what’s up?”

Jeremy looked at Blake, then Wes and Luke as if giving them the floor to speak. Maddox sighed and put his plate on the coffee table. Clearly he knew something was wrong too. “Just say it.”

There was a long beat of silence, and when no one else spoke, it was Jeremy who broke it. “They know about you and Roscoe. I didn’t tell them, but I won’t lie to them either. They need to hear it from you.”