Code Red by N.R. Walker

Chapter Sixteen

I satin the common room, surrounded by a whole lot of stark expressions, while the doc fussed over my face and Maddox paced. I had a bump on my right temple and my right eyebrow was swollen and split, but it had stopped bleeding. The corner of my eye had a red blotch, I already had some bruising, and a headache was shaping up nicely.

But I was okay.

“You’re lucky it wasn’t worse,” Hardwick said quietly. “You don’t need stitches or glue. You didn’t lose consciousness?”

I shook my head. “Nah, I saw a few stars, but that’s it.”

Maddox, who was still pacing, made a growling sound.

“I’d be happier if you went to the hospital,” the doc added. “Have some scans done.”

“Honestly, I’m fine. I’ve had worse playing high school hockey.” I put the ice pack back to my eye and gave a pointed nod toward Maddox and murmured, “It’s not me I’m worried about.”

“Hmm,” he said, getting his bag. He pulled out a seat away from the rest of us, near where Maddox was wearing a line in the carpet. “Maddox, take a seat for me.”

Maddox stopped and looked at the doc holding his blood pressure machine like he’d never seen either of them before. To everyone else, it would look like he was checking his blood pressure, which technically, that’s what he was doing. But he was also getting him to sit and take some deep breaths and hopefully calm down.

“This is major news,” Ryan said. He handed me his phone. It wasn’t just on social media; it was on every news broadcasting station across the country. Probably the world. The footage was surreal to watch. So much had happened in just a few short seconds.

Steve, Maddox, and Ryan got through to their van despite the crowd and the pushing and shoving. Then Robbie, Jeremy, Wes, and I came into view. The crowd lurched like a wave, Robbie stood aside to give Jeremy and Wes clear access to the open door of the van, but a man came over the top, pushing the whole crowd and bursting through, and I got hit and shoved directly into a very sturdy scaffolding pole.

Robbie got Jeremy and Wes into the van and went for the man who had done the damage, but then from the bottom of the screen, through all the people and the commotion came two figures dressed in black. One wore a hoodie, though his black hair could be seen, along with his long, black earrings. The other wore a black security shirt and fury in his eyes.

Maddox, with Steve right behind him.

Maddox shoved someone away and picked me up by the shirt like I weighed nothing. He all but threw me into the van and came in after me, the door sliding closed behind us, and the van pulled out.

The footage played a few more seconds of the commotion. Steve and Robbie were still there, but there were cops everywhere by then and the recording ended.

“Wild scenes today as fans and photographers clashed when the world-famous band Atrous were leaving a recording studio in Manhattan,”the reporter said. I turned it off and handed Ryan back his phone. I’d already seen some photographs and the headlines . . . I didn’t need to see any more.

“Are Robbie and Steve back?” I asked.

Amber nodded. “Yeah. They’re fine.”

“Holy shit,” Luke said, they were all crowded around, looking at his phone. They’d watched it a dozen times already. “Maddox just yeets that guy.” They were obviously up to the part where Maddox threw that man to the side so he could get to me.

The four of them all stopped and stared at Maddox, who was still with the doctor at the other end of the room. Hardwick was now on the chair beside him and they were talking. Well, Hardwick was speaking. Maddox was nodding.

Jeremy got up and pulled the ice pack off my face. He inspected my eye. “You’re still pretty.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled. “You okay?”

He nodded. They were all a bit shaken up, understandably, but they were physically unharmed. Then he glanced down toward Maddox. “Don’t think someone else is, though. I think he wants to punch the shit out of something, or someone.”

Then, with the worst possible timing, Ambrose walked in. He had his business face on, and it looked like he’d aged a decade since yesterday. He came straight over to me. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine,” I replied.

Maddox intervened then, slipping in between us and planting himself on my lap. Not beside me on the sofa, but on my lap. If Ambrose was surprised, he didn’t show it. Maddox, on the other hand, had that I-fucking-dare-you-to-say-something look in his eyes that went well with his back-away-from-my-man vibe he was emanating.

I didn’t mind. I actually kind of liked it. His protective nature, particularly of me, literally saved me from god knew what today. Being trampled? Maybe. Being hurt a lot worse? Definitely. As soon as he saw me in trouble, he ran to save me, without hesitation and without any regard for his own safety, and no doubt to the utter dismay of Steve.

I put my arm around Maddox’s waist and he frowned at my sore eye. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“If you could all gather around,” Ambrose began. “I’ll update you on what I know.”

Jeremy sat next to me, and when Maddox shot him a glare, Jeremy reached over and took his hand. Luke sat next to Jeremy, Blake sat on their laps, which made Maddox sitting on mine less of a big deal, and Wes stood by the armrest next to me and put his arm around Maddox’s shoulder.

Ambrose took a deep breath and looked at everyone. “Three people have been charged over the incident. Further charges are expected as the investigation moves forward. They’ve brought in more people for questioning.”

“More people?” Jeremy asked.

He gave a nod. “The police believe the men who began the altercation were paid.”

“What the fuck?” Blake asked. “Paid? By who? For what?”

“We believe a photographer might have paid two local men of no fixed address to start an altercation.”

What the fuck?

Same as the couple in the grocery store. Paid by someone to start something and be ever so conveniently right there to catch the whole thing on camera. I never imagined it would happen to us. To me.

Ambrose swallowed hard. “We also believe that Maddox may have been the intended target.”

I tightened my arm around Maddox’s waist. “Pardon?”

“The two men were told to target the man who came out last. He always traveled in the third vehicle. That’s usually Maddox, but today it wasn’t.”

I put my other arm around him too, and I noticed Wes’s arm went around Maddox’s neck and Jeremy pulled Maddox’s hand toward him.

“And the photographer?” Luke asked.

“Is being questioned by police. The two men identified him from all the photographers that were there, and those who were in the position to benefit. They said he offered them five hundred dollars each.” Ambrose shrugged. “The investigation is on-going and I’ve asked to be kept updated. Our legal team is dealing with it and no one here will be involved at any further stage.”

“What about the guy Maddox threw?” Jeremy said.

Ambrose gave a tight smile. “Like I said. Our legal team is taking care of it. From my understanding, the guy is a fan and was just glad no one was seriously hurt.”

Blake scoffed. “That’ll change when he realizes there’s money involved.”

“Probably,” Ambrose replied. “But we’ll let legal worry about that. That’s what we pay them for.”

“And the two homeless men?” Maddox asked quietly. “Are they okay?”

“They were detained,” Ambrose began.

“It wasn’t their fault,” Maddox said. “If by ‘no fixed address’ you mean living on the street, they were offered a lot of money. More money than they’ve seen in a while, no doubt. If it was a choice between having food in your belly or not, it’s not really a choice, is it?”

I leaned my head against him and gave him a squeeze. It was so typical of him to think that, to worry for them.

“But the photographer,” Maddox said, his voice still low and melodic. “I want him charged with everything that’ll stick and sued into oblivion. And whoever he sold the pictures to and the footage, wherever money changed hands, sue them too. If any media site or tabloid contracted him to do it, take their whole fucking company down.”

Okay then.

Maddox folded himself against me then, his head in the crook of my neck. His bony ass was sticking into my thigh but I didn’t care.

Ambrose sighed. “Tonight’s stage rehearsal is off.”

“What?” Wes, Luke, and Blake asked in unison.

“I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day,” Ambrose said. “I need to discuss changes with security and we’re re-evaluating—”

“Roscoe rides with me,” Maddox said. His voice was still calm, but too calm, too even. It was somehow more unnerving than his yelling voice.

Ambrose made a face. “Maddox, I think we can discuss this in private—”

“There’s nothing to discuss. I’m not asking, I’m telling.”

Ambrose ran his hand through his hair, exasperated. “You would be safer—”

Maddox unfolded himself from me and stood up in one fluid step. “How safe were we today? How fucking safe were we today? Look at his face.” Maddox gestured to me. “They touched him, Ambrose. They touched him. And what did you tell me before? Close enough to touch, close enough to hurt. What if they’d had a better shot at him. What if they’d had a gun?”

Wes reached out for him. “Hey Madz, calm down.”

“I won’t fucking calm down,” he said, looking at everyone. “Do you know how close we came today? It could have easily been one of us. It was supposed to be one of us. Don’t tell me to calm down.” He put his hand to his chest like it hurt, then turned back to Ambrose. “Roscoe’s with me. I don’t care what you have to do to make it happen. We tried it your way. Now we do it my way.” He grimaced, breathing hard and sharp, and he pulled at the collar of his hoodie. “Christ, why is it so hot in here?”

I stood up. “Okay, let’s go get some air.”

“No!” Maddox shot back, pulling his arm free from my hold. “I’m sick of being a trained circus monkey that’s been punished for wanting something outside the cage. Well, you know what? I’m done being nothing but a commodity in this goddamn trade-off. What I want is not something to be fucking bargained for! Christ, Roscoe, I will not fight with you over this. Anyone, but not you.”

“I’m on your side, Maddox,” I said calmly.

He pulled at his hair, his chest heaving. “Then listen to me! No one fucking listens to me!” he spat. Then he turned back to Ambrose, his voice cracking. “I can’t do this without him. I can’t breathe. I swear to fucking god, if you take him away from me again, I’ll go public. Interviews, on stage, social media. I’ll scream it out the car fucking window if I have to. I will tell the world how no one in this company listens to me.” He gasped for air, short and harsh, like his lungs weren’t working at all. He spun to face me, panicked, his hands in awkward fists. “I can’t . . . can’t . . . breathe . . . Roscoe—”

Doctor Hardwick swooped in and grabbed Maddox, all but carrying him back to the sofa they’d been sitting on before. “Everyone out,” Hardwick said, kneeling in front of Maddox. Then he stood, grabbed his bag, and turned to where everyone was standing, wide-eyed, horrified. “I said everyone out! Now. Out.”

Ryan and Amber began to usher everyone out, not that they wanted to go, clearly.

I sat next to Maddox and Hardwick handed me an aerosol of oxygen like they used backstage. I put the mouthpiece in front of Maddox’s mouth and nose and rubbed his back. “Breathe in, baby. Nice and slow. That’s it.”

I looked up to find Ambrose still standing there. He looked . . . lost. Hardwick, who was kneeling in front of Maddox again, fingers on Maddox’s wrist, followed my line of sight. “Neil, I’ve asked you to leave,” the doc said. He was absolutely no nonsense, no bullshit, and I liked that about him.

“Maddox,” I said smoothly, keeping eye contact with him. “Breathe with me.”

Ambrose did leave, thankfully, and Hardwick went back to checking Maddox’s pulse. It felt like it lasted forever, but his breaths were getting deeper and more measured, and after a little while, Hardwick uncurled Maddox’s fingers, patted his knee, then sat on the other side of him. “That was a big one,” he said.

Maddox nodded and he pushed the oxygen can away, then sagged against me. I put my arm around his shoulder and he felt so small. So vulnerable. He wiped his sleeve on his face and sniffled before he started to cry, so I pulled him closer and held him. His breathing was still off but he had a handle on it.

Once my own heart rate simmered down, my head began to throb, the cut on my eyebrow and the bump on my temple making themselves known. God, had that whole debacle with the crowd and the photographers been just this morning?

What a fucking day.

“I’ll need to go tell the others you’re okay,” Hardwick said gently. “No doubt they’re all on the other side of that door waiting.”

“I can’t face them,” Maddox mumbled through his tears. His hands were tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie, and he put them to his face. “It’s embarrassing.”

I held him a little tighter. “You don’t need to face them right now. But they’ll be worried.”

Maddox cried some more. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” I murmured. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

The doc looked at me over the top of Maddox’s head. “I’ll call them into the meeting room. It’ll clear the hallway. Go to your room, get some rest.”

Maddox would probably sleep now anyway. He was always so worn out afterwards.

“Maddox,” the doc said. “I’ll come and see you in a little while. We can’t let this go on any longer. We’re gonna have to get you some help.”

Maddox never replied but he heard it, and for now, that was enough. Maddox had tried to deal with this on his own, but that was no longer an option.

He needed help.

I held him tight for a minute or two after Hardwick left, giving him plenty of time to get everyone into the meeting room so the hallway was clear. “Come on, baby,” I said, peeling Maddox off me.

He was still heavy and reluctant to move, so I helped him to his feet. “Let’s go to our room. We can watch a movie, order waffles and ice cream, have a nap.”

Maddox sighed, and though he had his head down, he nodded. I tucked him into my side and we walked out. I was prepared to shield him from anyone who might still be lurking in the hall, but it was all clear.

He crawled into bed. I kicked off my boots and joined him. He looked so exhausted, and so unbelievably sad. “I’m sorry,” he said again as he studied my swollen eyebrow. “Your beautiful face.”

“This face was never beautiful,” I said, aiming for funny.

He reached up and ever so lightly traced my eyebrow and my temple. “Does it hurt?”

“Nope. Well, it would if I accidently banged it, but just like this, no.”

His eyes flickered between mine. “I feel responsible. I am responsible. If it weren’t—”

I thumbed his cheek, his eyebrow, his lip. “You’re not responsible. It was not your fault. Actually, you saved me, remember? I saw the footage. You literally flew in and grabbed me and got me to safety. So if it weren’t for you, it’d be a lot worse.”

“But if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have a target on your back.”

“Okay, Maddox, my love,” I said firmly. “Listen to me. We’re not playing this game. You’re not to blame. Saying I wouldn’t have been hurt if we weren’t together just makes me feel bad. We are together, and no fucked-up photographer looking for pay-dirt is gonna change that. Please don’t feel guilt over this. This is not on you.”

He closed his eyes and was quiet for a while. “I freaked out in front of everyone today.” His chin wobbled again. “Fucking hell, Roscoe. They all saw me. I was holding it together so well, and then Ambrose came in and I knew he was gonna separate us—”

I kissed him softly to stop him from getting worked up again. “No one is going to separate us.”

“If you’d been with me today, you wouldn’t have been hurt.”

“We don’t know that. Maybe it would have been worse. We don’t know that either. There’s no point in stressing over what-ifs, baby.” That probably wasn’t the best thing to say to someone with a panic disorder. I had to reassure him. “Maddox, I promise you, everyone in that room who saw you just now loves you. They don’t think anything bad about you, I promise.”

“You don’t know that either.”

“I do know it. They love you. They’ll just be worried, that’s all. It probably just scared them a little to see you like that. And that’s okay.” I swiped my thumb along his jaw.

He became teary. “They’re gonna think I’m crazy, treat me different—”

“No, they won’t. They love you. And you’re not crazy.” I brushed my fingers through his hair. “Jeremy’s gonna knock on that door any minute and yell, ‘hey, dickbag,’ just like he always does.”

He almost smiled.

“It’s the one thing I am absolutely sure of in this world,” I added. “Is that those four guys love you like a brother. They’ll do whatever needs to be done, okay? Just like you would do anything for them.”

He closed his eyes and I stroked his hair until he drifted off to sleep. He was so freaking tired. He had shadows under his eyes and his usually beautiful skin was a touch pallid. And watching him as he slept, taking in every detail, every line, I knew right then that I would do anything for him, whatever he needed, because I loved him. More than anything I’d ever loved.

I kissed his forehead, and even knowing he wouldn’t hear, I whispered anyway, “Love all of you.”

Maddox dozed for a while,got up and showered, we ordered the waffles and ice cream I’d suggested, and sure enough, Doctor Hardwick came by to check on him.

“What did you tell them?” Maddox asked.

“I told them what I could,” he said. “That I knew physical and emotional burnout when I saw it. And it isn’t just you. It’s all of them. That years of constant pressure for perfection on the world stage and high levels of stress from every angle has taken its toll, on the whole team, Maddox. I told them I was surprised it took this long, that even the strongest steel will buckle eventually.”

I squeezed Maddox’s hand and he nodded quickly, swallowing back his emotions.

Hardwick continued, “The boys wanted to see you, naturally. I asked them to give you a few hours to rest. They were all very concerned, as you could imagine. They care a great deal for you.”

Maddox chewed on his bottom lip and nodded again.

“We have a decision to make about the last concert,” Hardwick added.

Maddox’s head shot up. “What about it?”

“Whether you would be up for performing, or if we should cancel it.” Hardwick shrugged. “I know which I’d prefer, but I also know what you’re going to say.”

“We can’t cancel,” Maddox said quickly. “People have paid a lot of money for tickets, and they’ve traveled or taken time off work and school. We can’t cancel the day before. I won’t let them down like that.”

Hardwick nodded. “That’s what I said you’d say.”

I rubbed Maddox’s back. “You wouldn’t be letting anyone down. If we have to cancel, we cancel. Your fans will understand.”

Maddox shook his head. “I’ll be fine. On stage is fine. It’s my happy place. And it’s just one concert. One. Then it’s all over and we can do whatever you need me to do. Roscoe and I were going to see his family for a few days while we’re on the East Coast, but I promise as soon as I get back to LA I’ll see whoever you want me to see.” He wiped his hands on his thighs. “But I have to do this last concert.” He turned to me, eyes wide. “I have to. I have to do this.”

As much as I probably wished otherwise, I knew that’d be his answer as well. So I nodded. “Then we’ll get through it. We can start working on a plan or whatever it is we should do. Like for breathing and relaxation.” I’d tried reading all I could about panic attacks, but it was hard to follow. “And we’ll get through it.”

Hardwick nodded and got to his feet. “Let me make some calls.”

He’d only been gone for about twenty minutes when there was a knock on the door. “Hey dickbag, open up.”

I chuckled because I knew Jeremy would never treat him any different.

I opened the door to find all four of them waiting, so I stood aside and let them in. Maddox was lying in bed and they all piled on top of him. There was swearing and muffled laughter, but mostly laughing, and the five of them wrestled for the best spot on the bed.

“Are you watching Rick and Morty?” Wes asked.

“Shut the fuck up, it’s funny,” Maddox replied. Pretty sure he was underneath Luke.

“Oh my god, it’s the ‘Pickle Rick’ episode,” Blake cried.

I laughed, and knowing he was in good company—and knowing he needed some time alone to talk to his friends—I figured it was a good time to duck out. “Maddox, I’ll be back in ten.”

I needed to speak to Ambrose and I found him and Doctor Hardwick in the meeting room. I knocked and stuck my head in. “Oh, is Maddox okay?” Hardwick asked.

“Yeah, he’s okay. All the guys just joined him in our room so I thought I’d come make peace,” I replied, looking at Ambrose.

“How’s your eye?” he asked.

I lightly touched the bump on my eyebrow and then my temple. “I’ll live.”

“We were just discussing the concert tomorrow,” Hardwick said.

“Maddox wants it to go ahead,” I replied. “If it’s canceled, I think he’d feel worse. He already feels enough guilt. Ambrose, I know you’re in a difficult spot. You want to keep everyone happy and you answer to the company, and the band is just a small part of what you manage. I get that. And I appreciate the work you do . . .”

“But things need to change.” Ambrose sighed. “I think we need to take a look at a lot of things. Workload for one, taking some pressure off the boys, off Maddox in particular. I told Arlo Kim what Maddox said about being a commodity and a circus monkey in a cage. How he makes all the money, all the sacrifices, but no one listens to him. And he’s not wrong. He was always pushed harder than the others, and what he said today hit home. I told Mr. Kim that things needed to change.”

“They need a vacation,” Hardwick said. “Time off. Time to disengage and to energize. They could all use a recharge.”

I nodded. “They need time to be themselves, to be twenty-three. The isolation is rough on them.” I sighed. “Anyway, I’m sure we’ll have time to discuss plans moving forward. I just wanted to check that I still have a job, I guess.”

Ambrose damn near smiled. “Of course you do. Maybe I should be asking if I still have mine?”

I snorted. Maybe all the shit that went down today reminded Ambrose, and Arlo Kim, that Maddox was more valuable to the company than how he’d been treated. Platinum Entertainment might have owned Atrous, but without Atrous, Platinum Entertainment was nothing. “You might wanna give Maddox some time before you ask him that question.”

His smile was rueful. “I never meant to hurt him. I was just doing what I was told, based on information and recommendations given to me.”

“I know that; I understand. And he will too, one day. Right now, he just thinks you want to separate us, and the thought of not having me around scares the hell out of him. I can calm him down when he feels panicky. He trusts me.”

Ambrose’s eyebrows knitted together. “If I’d’ve known how serious it was, with his breathing like that, I wouldn’t have split your unit.”

“He couldn’t have admitted it to you,” Hardwick said, “when he couldn’t even admit it to himself. Not that I could have told you on his behalf either, with patient confidentiality. He forbade me to tell anyone. Like I told you before, he was adamant no one else find out. He was very persuasive.”

“You mean stubborn and threatening,” I said with a smile.

“Oh, I know how stubborn he can be,” Ambrose said, smiling now. “But regardless, Roscoe, you were very good with him earlier. You knew what to do, and he turned directly to you for help.” He nodded slowly. “It really is in his best interest if you stay with him. Everyone told me that and I should have listened.”

“Everyone?”

“Both of you, Maddox, Ryan, Steve. Even Jeremy asked if I was sure.” Ambrose sighed. “I think this has been a wake-up call for me. I was so busy listening to so-called experts and protocol models about security, and I should have been listening to those who were in the middle of it.”

“You didn’t know how bad it was,” I allowed. “But yes, maybe listen next time.”

We were all quiet for a moment. “So, the final concert?” Ambrose asked. “Do we pull the plug, or do we go ahead. To be honest, after today I’m not sure what to do.”

I clapped his arm. “We listen to the guys in the middle of it.”

Ambrose met my eyes and nodded. “Yeah, of course. I didn’t learn much in the last minute, did I?”

I laughed. “I’ll go find Ryan and Amber.”

A few minutes later I opened the door to our room. “You guys decent?” I called out before walking in.

They were all still there. Maddox was sitting up now, leaning against the headboard. Jeremy was beside him, Blake was laying across the foot of the bed, and Luke and Wes were now on chairs with their feet on Jeremy. They were still watching Rick and Morty.

They all straightened up when they saw who I had with me. The room was now kinda crowded. “Hey, guys,” I said, smiling at Maddox. He brought his legs up and hugged his knees like a shield. “It’s okay,” I said. “Everything’s okay. We just wanted to ask you all a question while you’re together.”

Ambrose stood beside me. “We have one concert to go. It’s a big one. Did you want to go ahead with it or cancel? Postpone?”

“You’re asking us?” Wes asked.

Ambrose nodded. “One hundred percent your call. I’ll go with whatever you decide. You don’t have to answer right now. But I’m doing a press release at three o’clock. If I have something to tell them, that’d be great. If not, then no problem. We make an announcement when you’re ready.”

The five of them stared at him, and Maddox’s eyes went to mine. “I want to do it.”

Jeremy, Wes, Luke, and Blake all turned to Maddox. “You sure?” Jeremy asked. “Madz, if you need—”

“I need to do this,” he said quickly. “For me. To prove that I can. And for the fans. But for me.” He swallowed hard. “So the anxiety doesn’t win. Which is probably fucked up. No one tell Hardwick I said that.” He let out a shaky breath and gave me a smile.

No one else could have possibly known, but that was the first time he’d used the word anxiety. First time I’d heard him say it, anyway.

Jeremy clapped his hands. “Well then, there’s your answer. Thunderbirds are go.”

“Hell yes!” Blake crowed and the others cheered.

“And while we’re all here,” Maddox said. “Just so you know, I’m not going back to LA with you guys. I’m staying on the East Coast with Roscoe, just for a week, before we head home.” He glanced at Jeremy and chewed his bottom lip. “Staying with his parents.”

Jeremy’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “You’re meeting his parents, fucking wow.”

“Holy shit,” Wes said.

I felt Ryan and Amber’s eyes boring holes in the side of my head, but I never took my eyes off Maddox. I smiled at him and his cheeks tinted pink.

“Okay, everyone out,” Amber said. She was trying not to grin, and she winked at me as she shoved the boys out the door.

The room was deafeningly quiet when they’d gone.

“Should I have told them that?” Maddox asked. He was still sitting against the headboard, still holding the pillow, still devastatingly beautiful.

I nodded. “Absolutely.” I knelt on the bed and crawled up, wrapped my hand around his ankle, and pulled him so he was lying down. Then I prowled up his body and kissed him soundly on the mouth. “Yes.”

He put his hand to the side of my face, to my sore eye and temple. “Does this hurt?” He frowned. “I hate that someone hurt you.”

I settled my weight on him and he spread his legs for me. I brushed his hair from his forehead and searched his eyes. I could have lied to save him from further guilt, but if I expected him to be honest with me about his pain, I needed to be upfront about mine. “It’s not so bad. Bit tender.”

He turned my chin so he could kiss my eyebrow first, then my temple, ever so lightly. “I love you, Roscoe. I don’t know why you’re still here, why you’re not running for the hills. But I’m grateful.”

“I’m here because I love you. Because I’ve been in love with you for years. Because I see the real you.” I kissed him, pulling his bottom lip between mine. “Life’s not always going to be this crazy.”

He searched my eyes. “Will you still love me when there’s no more band, no more touring, no more screaming fans? When I can’t sing or dance?”

“Baby,” I whispered. “I will love you no matter what.”

He stared, seemingly holding onto that moment for the longest time, his eyes like glimmering onyx.

“Do you believe me?” I whispered. “Please say you believe me.”

He nodded. “I believe you.”

I kissed him then, slow and deep, and began to take his shirt off. “Tomorrow’s a concert day,” he said, smiling. “I thought that was against your rules.”

I laughed and kissed down his neck. “If you want me to stop . . .”

He groaned and rolled his hips, grinding his erection into mine. He dragged his hands over my ass and pulled me hard against him. “Does it feel like I want you to stop?”

No. No it doesn’t.

We hada full police escort to the stadium the next day. Metlife Stadium was huge, but once we were inside the grounds, we were free from fans and media.

The media, press, paparazzi, and anyone with a camera wanted any piece of us they could get their hands on. The news had been horrendous. The footage of me getting hit, of Maddox grabbing me and pulling me into the van, was on every channel, on every social media site, on every station. Maddox and I were trending, again. The footage, the headlines, the photos, the fans’ outrage and sympathy . . .

And Ambrose’s press release had gone well. He was very clear, cut and dry; anyone who even looked wrong at any of his staff would be buried by our legal team. He was in full-boss mode, and his eyes could have cut glass.

I liked it.

But we’d all agreed to avoid whatever was online. It wasn’t good for anyone’s mental health, and we had enough to concentrate on.

Maddox hadn’t slept well. But he swore he was okay. We just had one show to get through.

And once we were at the stadium, they were all business. Sound checks, rehearsals, stage checks, last minute set changes . . .

And the crowd began to roll in. The hype began to charge the air backstage and the nerves kicked in. Maddox didn’t eat much, but he seemed in good spirits. He was smiling, chatting, though I caught his knee bouncing more than usual.

“How are you feeling?” I asked him, trying to keep it upbeat.

“Yeah, good,” he said.

I wasn’t convinced, and I found myself taking deep breaths with slow releases without even meaning to. It wasn’t until I noticed him copying me that I even realized I was doing it.

“I’m okay,” he said quietly. To me or himself, I wasn’t sure.

But he kept his head down as though he couldn’t look me in the eye. And maybe seeing my blatant concern made him feel bad, maybe he needed to shut it all out for a while so he could get in the zone. Maybe me asking him if he was okay every ten minutes was making him worse.

So I made myself stop asking him.

One more performance.

One more concert.

That’s all we had to get through. It’d all be over in three hours.

It felt like I was waiting for the ax to fall. Maybe I was more nervous than him. I helped him with his earpiece, then with his shirt. When they were ready to go on stage, they stood around in a circle, like they did every time, with their hands joined in the middle.

“Atrous forever,” they cried in unison.

And I stood behind them as they waited for their introduction. Maddox took some deep breaths, his shoulders rising and falling. His hands were fists at his sides. I wanted to take him aside and run him through some deep breathing exercises, but I had to believe him when he said he was okay. Part of me knew he wasn’t, part of me hoped he could get through this.

Part of me knew this was too much and he should have said no to this concert. He should have put himself first. Instead he put everyone else before him. The expectations of his best friends, of eighty thousand screaming fans, was a cruel and unbearable weight to bear.

He carried it through the first set.

Though he missed a few steps in his choreography, and he was breathless when he sang. When he came off the stage, he threw his water bottle at the wall. “I can’t keep time,” he growled, his rage directed only inward.

“Hey,” Jeremy said, trying to soothe him. “Don’t sweat it, man. I miss shit all the time.”

“I never miss,” Maddox shot back. “I never fucking miss.”

I intervened, pulling him aside. “Take a breath for me,” I whispered. “You’re doing great out there.”

His eyes were dark fire. “Don’t patronize me, Roscoe. If I’m shit, tell me I’m shit.”

I ignored that. “You’ve got a full set to get through. You know these moves, you know the songs. Forget everything else and just go by feel. Just remember to breathe, Maddox.”

A pained look crossed his features before he shook his head. “I need to go,” he mumbled before joining the boys and heading back on stage without a moment to spare. They launched straight into another song. The crowd went crazy and we could feel the whole stadium boom and shake with the power of it.

And Maddox did well for the first few songs of the second set. He belted out notes and danced his heart out. But then he mistimed a dance move, and in the next song he missed one move altogether. In the next song he mistimed his line in the bridge, and in the song after that he missed a whole line.

Jeremy stood beside him, his arm around his shoulder and sang with him.

But it was too late.

A thread had been pulled, plucked a long time ago. He’d held it together for months, years maybe. But he was beginning to unravel.

The next song started, the music blared, and the intro began . . . but Maddox didn’t sing. Blake quickly covered for him and Maddox leaned over, his hand on his knee, trying to breathe.

“Is his mic not working?” the stage tech beside us asked. He screamed into his walkie-talkie. “Someone get a check on mic one!”

It wasn’t his mic.

Maddox spun to look in our direction, looking for me, his hand to his chest, his mic fell to the stage. And without thinking, without a single thought about the eighty thousand witnesses, before someone could stop me, I took the steps two at a time and raced out onto the stage.