“Maybe I should talk to Shade about it. I don't think Adam knows what the problem is.”
Kellen grimaced. “Not a good idea. Adam has a hair trigger as far as you're concerned. Just go cheer him up. You’re the only one who ever makes him smile.”
She wasn't sure anything would make Adam smile tonight. Especially not when she had to get on his case about smoking pot. What the f**k was he thinking? If his parole officer found out, agreeing to drug counseling would not keep him out of prison this time. She hoped Shade had been blowing hot air and Adam hadn’t slipped up—especially somewhere he could get caught so easily—but she remembered how guilty Adam had looked at dinner when she’d asked how he was making it. She’d been suspicious then, but had decided to trust his word because she knew he needed that trust as part of his treatment. And she needed to extend her trust because she loved him.
“Are you coming?” Adam said, peering back into the car, his eyes seeking her in the dim interior.
Her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t have a choice but to confront him. She had a feeling things were going to go from tense to disastrous, but she couldn’t let this slide.
“Yeah,” she said. She scooted across the seat and out into the warm night air.
Adam took her wrist and stalked toward the building. She had to jog—boots clomping on the cement—to keep up with him. He didn't say a word to her in the lobby, the elevator or the corridor. Why was he pissed at her?
He unlocked the door to his suite and opened it. When she paused to stare up at him, he avoided her gaze and ushered her inside.
The door closed and before she could turn, he stepped up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and held on to her like a drowning man clinging to a capsized boat. His entire body trembled against her.
“You okay?” she asked after a moment. She stroked the tense muscles in his forearm.
He released her abruptly and moved into the spacious room. “Why wouldn't I be?”
“You seem upset.”
“The vocalist of my band, who used to be my best friend, basically told me he wanted to replace me. Why would I be upset?”
She knew he was being sarcastic, but she needed to get him to talk seriously about this issue with Shade. “I'd be upset,” she said. “And hurt.”
“I'm not hurt, I'm pissed. I'm not sure why he thinks I'm the one who needs replacing. Maybe if he didn't try to lead the band like a dictator instead of considering us all equals, I wouldn't feel the need to get under his narcissistic skin.”
“So you do show up late on purpose?”
“Not always.” He took a deep breath. “Consciously.”
“What started the animosity between you? Owen says Shade's been pissed at you for four years. It must have been something pretty substantial.”
“I don't remember,” Adam said. He scrubbed his face with both hands. “I was having a rough patch at the time. Doing lots of drugs. I don't remember much of anything from those few years. Bits and pieces of disagreements, but nothing that would give him a reason to hate me so much. When we started the band we were best friends, but now?” He shook his head.
“Have you asked him why he’s angry with you?”
“Yeah, I ask him what the f**k his problem is all the time.”
She stepped closer and laid a gentle hand on his chest. His heart thudded hard against her palm. “Have you asked him in a non-hostile manner?”
Adam drew away and sank onto a sofa. “We can't interact without being hostile.”
“Except on stage.” For nearly half an hour, both men had looked genuinely pleased to be in each other’s company.
Gaze distant, Adam scratched the nape of his neck. “We kind of lose ourselves onstage.”
“But offstage your egos get in the way.”
Adam smirked. “What egos? We don't have egos.”
Madison chuckled. “Oh no. You're both exceedingly humble.”
“You've seen me humble,” he said, slipping an arm around her waist and directing her to sit on his lap. “No one else gets to see me like that.”
Which was probably one reason why Shade busted his balls all the time. “I like that humble guy,” she said.
“Yeah?”
She nodded.
“But not the egotistical guy,” he said.
“I like that guy too, but he's not as loveable. Probably why Shade punches him in the mouth.”
“I don't want to talk about Shade now,” Adam said. “I want to get lost in you and forget about all this bullshit.”
She turned sideways and leaned against his chest, snuggling into his warmth. “Did he hurt your face?”
“Not too bad.” He chuckled. “Couldn't get a wide enough swing in the car, or he would have nailed me to the floor.”
“I hope you two can make amends,” she said. “I think you’ll both feel better if you talk things through.”
“Maybe.” He was quiet for a long moment. The only sounds were the hum of a mini-fridge somewhere in the room and the occasional voice in the hall. He stroked her arm with the back of his hand as he collected his thoughts. “I’ll try to talk to him without goading him into a fight,” he said. “His attitude just pisses me off.”
Madison could tell the feeling was mutual. “I’m sure you can find a way to reach him.” And she needed to find a way to reach Adam. She hated to hit him with a second confrontation now, but she couldn’t ignore what Shade had said in the limo about Adam’s drug use. They had to face this issue before drug use became drug abuse. The difference was a slippery slope for an addict; it didn’t take much for one to lead to the other. “So has smoking pot backstage become routine or was it more of a onetime thing?”
The hand methodically rubbing her bare arm went still. “I didn’t—”
“Don’t lie to me, Adam.” She could deal with his problems, but not his lies. She wanted to trust him—about everything—but she couldn’t trust a liar.
“I wasn’t going to lie. I was going to say I didn’t tell you, because . . . I don’t like to disappoint you. It makes me feel guilty. I don’t like that feeling.”
“You feel guilty for disappointing me? Is that why you’ve been working so hard to stay clean?”
“Yeah.”
She cringed. He still had some work to do. “Am I the only reason you fight addiction?”
“It’s a good enough reason for me.” His lips brushed her hair. “You’re the best reason I’ve ever met.”