Chapter 43: Nice Guys Refuse To Propose Again

Adam

"Let's go," Officer Randall says tersely as he opens the door.

I nod grimly. I guess this is the part where I get booked, officially.

"Do I get a phone call?" That's a stupid question. There's no one I need to call. I know Mac. There's no doubt in my mind she's here. I know she's called Dawes. And Trace. I'm sure they already have the lawyers on this. Honestly, if I do get a call, it would be to my mom. I can't stand the thought of her hearing I've been arrested, and not knowing the details. I want to tell her first—that I'm okay, that I did what I had to do, that it was just one punch and I didn't hurt anybody. Not really.

That British bastard is fine. I just busted his lip, is all. I wanted to rip those fucking piercings right off his face, and break his goddamn hand for grabbing Mac. When I saw his hand on her—the expression on her face—like she couldn't breathe, like she was seconds from either passing out or throwing up...

Well, there was no question. There was nothing to question, because there was no thought. There was only reaction. He was threatening what is mine to protect. Mac and Babycakes.

I stopped him. I'd do it again. I'd do worse. Much worse, if I had to.

The cop shakes his head. "No need. You are free to go. Thanks to her." He jerked his head and I followed the motion. Mac was standing in a small room behind glass, fierce as fucking ever, phone to her ear. "I don't know what she said to Clavendish, because he was already lawyered up, to make sure the charges stuck. Three minutes with her, and he reversed course," he shrugged. "You got lucky."

"Officer, you have no idea," I say softly, gratitude and amazement warring with guilt and shame as I stare at the most amazing thing that will ever come into my life. Fuck. Mac talked Dev out of pressing charges. I have no idea how she did it—how she stuffed down her own panic and anxiety to persuade him, because when I saw her with him at the club, she was on the edge. I saw it in her eyes. She was close to another flashback. Somehow, she summoned the strength to pull herself back.

That five-foot-two shortcake is a stone cold killer when she has to be.

But she shouldn't have to be. She should never have had to face Dev alone. That's my mistake. I thought I was protecting her, and all I did was put her in a position where I couldn't be there to protect her.

Christ. It's time to grow the fuck up. I make a vow to myself right then and there—no more immature shit. No more throwing punches first and asking questions later, and leaving Mac to clean up my messes for me. Somehow I have to find a better way to protect them.

The cop smiles. "Collect your personals, Heartley." He means Mac. They let me hand off my real valuables at the club and they didn't take my wallet yet, because I hadn't been booked. I nod. He gestures at the exit door to the lobby. "The desk sergeant will buzz you out."

"Thank you," I nod, already on my way toward Mac.

I jerk open the door, opening my arms to thank her, comfort her, but she puts out a hand to stop me. The expression on her face is really what stops me in my tracks, though.

Pure fury.

Yeah, okay. I probably deserve that. What I did was stupid. And she had to make it right.

"Mac—I'm so sorr—"

"Phone's for you," Her voice is pure venom as she slaps it into my hand and pushes past me, heading for the exit.

I look down at my phone, the lump in my throat falling to the pit of my stomach as I see that it's Marley on the line and the call...and the call is six minutes in.

Oh Jesus. What a fucking night.

I put the phone to my ear as I swing around automatically, striding to catch up with Mac as she flees me.

"Hey, Marley. Look, I'm gonna need to call you back."

"Adam," Marley's voice is tight with tears. It doesn't surprise me. Mac makes a lot of people cry. "Adam, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"I know. It's not your fault," I say. It's mine. It's so obvious to me in this moment that I should have mentioned Marley to Mac weeks ago. It just didn't seem...important. Not that Marley is not important...just that...well, she's my friend, but she's not ever going to be a part of the life Mac and I live. Two different worlds. I didn't even see that it was necessary to bring them together.

"Adam...she asked me questions I couldn't answer. It's against ethics to tell her that I was your counselor. I...everything I said to her...I know it sounded shady. She's really got the wrong idea."

Obviously. Mac is literally running away from me at this point. She's sprinted through the room, dodging desks and juking cops like a running back on his way to score the game winning touch-down.

She's made the exit door and gotten buzzed out. It closes behind her by the time I reach it, and I gesture to the attendant on the other side as I press the button, but he holds up a finger and picks up the phone. Probably to confirm I'm actually free to go.

"What exactly did you say to her?"

"I said...we were friends. When she started asking specific questions about how we became friends...I said...I said...that I was bound by confidentiality. That she needed to talk to you about the nature of our relationship."

I groan as I bang on the door. The desk cop shoots me an irritated look and turns back to his phone call. "Goddamn. Marley, I don't think you realize what that sounds like to Mac."

"Like I have an NDA. Like I have a reason to have an NDA. Like we...like I'm a fangirl." she whispers.

"Not a fangirl," I correct. "More than that. A fangirl would never have this number."

"Adam, I'm so so sorry. She was growling at me and I...I panicked. She's..."

"I know. She's a force of nature." The cop finally buzzes me out. "Marley, I gotta go."

"I'm sorry," she says again.

"I'm sure," I retort, then realize how pissed I sound. This is not really Marley's fault. "Look, it's okay. Just a misunderstanding. But I gotta deal with this. Talk to you later."

"Adam, I'm glad you found her. I'm glad she's okay."

"Thanks." I end the call.

I see Mac's spangles flying out the front door of the station as Mason holds the door for her. To my surprise, Ben appears immediately at my left, hurrying Kat along. "Paps out there," he shouts to Mason. "What the fuck are you still holding the door for?"

That Mason kid jumps, but I'm already through it, edging between the two paparazzi that are close enough to Mac to touch her, snapping pictures as she shields her face.

"Step the fuck off," I snarl at them, jerking the door open for her as they hurl questions.

Mac, did you cheat on Adam with DevBlu? Did you guys break up? Are you pregnant? Who's the daddy?

Mac freezes, but I press against her back and lean into her ear. "Don't react. Get in the car." I shove her gently and barrel in behind.

Tears are threatening to pour. "How do they know?"

"They don't," I whisper. "They are just fishing." It's probably her body, not any rumors they've heard. She put it all on display tonight, and she's starting to get that tiny curve to the front of her, the slightest swell in the midst of her toned abs. Most people wouldn't even notice it, but a baby bump is a huge payday for paparazzi so they are always on the lookout.

Ben is hurtling Kat in behind me. Mason sits up front with the driver. I reach for Mac but she shirks me off with an irritated gesture. Kat's eyes are wide, Ben's face is grim. I rub my beard, trying to figure out what the fuck to do.

I decide on civilities first. "Hey Kat."

"Hey," she says back, concerned eyes moving between me and Mac. The storm brewing is obvious, but Mac is icing us all out, staring out the window. Mac has enough reason to be mad at me, for brawling, so I don't feel any reason to explain. I shrug at Kat with a weak smile. I nod at Ben.

"Thanks, man. You went above, tonight."

"Not really. Not just a job anymore, you know?" he says, meeting my eyes. He knows I know his and Tam's secret, and I know what he means. The kid he's gonna raise, it's Mac's nephew. Soundcrush has always been a family, but this is a whole new level. Leed and Mac, Tam and Ben. They'll be bonded by that kid. I nod again. "Still. Thanks, brother."

He nods. There's an awkward pause

The driver lowers the privacy window. "Where to?" he asks.

"The airport," Mac says swiftly, then looks at Kat and Ben "If you guys don't mind. It's closest. Sawyer is bringing our luggage and Dawes is handling bumping up our departure time."

"No problem," Kat says as she and Ben exchange a nod. She shoots me another concerned look.

"Airport it is," the driver says, rolling the window back up.

"You've taken care of everything," I say softly. "Thank you, Mac. You're amazing. You did...so good, Shortcake. So much better than me."

She doesn't respond. I slide a knuckle down her slender arm. She has goosebumps. "Cold?" I have nothing to offer her but the shirt off my back or the warmth of my arms. I'll willingly give her either.

She turns to face me in the seat. "Marley," is all she says.

"Yeah, been meaning to tell you about her." I shoot a look towards Kat and Ben. "But maybe it can wait?"

"Why? So you can get your story straight? About the nature of your relationship with her?" she spits.

"No. There's no story to get straight. You know I'll tell you the truth. This just isn't the time."

"Why? If there's no story, what does it matter if Ben and Kat hear?"

"Because I don't want to do this with an audience," I sigh wearily. "Please, Mac."

"Oh Preacher, you know how much I love an audience," her voice is bitter. She turns to Kat. "So get this. After I save Adam's ass by talking Dev out of pressing charges, I'm waiting for him to get released. He gets a phone call. From someone named Marley. The name is familiar to me, but I can't place it. I thought it might be somebody at the label. So I answer, but at the exact moment I do, Adam gets another call—this one from Trace. Because of Trace's call beeping, Marley doesn't hear me say hello. But I hear her greeting loud and clear. Do you know what she said?"

I'm cringing inside, because I can imagine. Kat's eyes are wide as she shakes her head at Mac's rhetorical question.

She says, "Rock Star, are you there?" Mac purrs the nickname, way more seductive than I'm sure Marley sounded.

"Fuck," Kat whispers. Now she and Mac are both looking at me with indignation.

"She didn't sound like that," I object. "She wouldn't say it like that. It's not like that. We're friends, that's all."

"Hmmmm, because all your friends call you Rock Star. " Mac shoots back. "Kat, would you call Adam Rock Star as a nickname?"

"No." She says hoarsely.

"Because you would only call Trace that. In bed. When you play fangirl to his Rock Star, right?" Mac presses. Kat's only answer is the flush that automatically washes across her chest and face.

Mac gets in my face. "Let me suck your dick, Rock Star," she taunts. "Fill me up, Rock Star. Make me come, Rock Star."

"Stop," I growl at her. "You know it's not like that."

"I don't know shit," she says "Except two things. Marley can't disclose the nature of your relationship. The other thing I know is where I remember the name from. Marley was the girl on the roof, wasn't she? In Atlanta."

"Yes."

"Oh my god, Adam!" Mac's voice is shaking. "Did you fuck her? Were you so mad at me for the fight we had that you walked across the street from our hotel and fucked a random to get back at me?"

I close my eyes. My stomach roils with anger and disgust. "You really think that? That I would have done that?"

"I don't know!" Mac screams. "Why does she have an NDA!?!?"

Fuck it. I don't care who's listening now. "She doesn't have an NDA. She's bound by the ethics of her profession."

"Hookers don't have ethics, Adam," Mac fires back.

"Mac..." I close my eyes and count to ten, because I almost just told Mac not to fucking speak about Marley like that, but snapping back is not gonna help, here. Mac's had an incredibly stressful day and she's probably damn near losing it. This tough, mean girl shit is her defense. "She's not a hooker. Working at the Lunar Lounge is Marley's second job. She's a licensed mental health professional."

Mac looks at me, uncomprehending. "What?"

"Mac, when I threw the ring off the balcony at the hotel, it landed on roof of that bar, remember? And the only way to get on that roof was to explain to Marley why the fuck I needed to be there in the first place."

"Wait—" Kat interjects, fumbling her purse, and pulling out the Tiffany box. "You threw this ring off your hotel balcony? Because you guys were having a fight?"

"Yeah. Thanks for holding onto it," I say, gesturing my hand to take it back.

Kat gives me a look like I'm an idiot. "Uhhhh. No. you're not getting it back right now. You might throw it out the damn window again." She grips it tight in her hand.

"Why are you mad at me?" I mumble.

"Because you've got some explaining to do!" Kat yells. "Throwing a ring like this off a balcony like it was nothing? And cavorting with strippers on roofs? After what...after had happened?" Ah shit, yeah I forgot that Kat knew about the condom breaking. "What the fuck? You should be ashamed of yourself!"

Jesus, I can see why Trace calls her HellKat, now.

Now I'm defending myself against both of them. "Marley is not a hooker or a stripper. She's my therapist. Or she was for a few weeks, when I needed advice."

"What?" Mac and Kat say together. Ben has his head back against the seat. I think the fucker is napping. Thanks for the support, brother.

"Look I know it sounds unbelievable. It was...weird, how it all played out. I wanted to get on the roof of that bar to get that ring back. Marley was opening the bar, but she wouldn't let me on the roof unless I explained why I needed to get up there. I wouldn't tell her because I didn't know her...didn't trust her. She might sell the story that I had thrown an engagement ring off the roof, right? We were new, again," I shoot Mac a look. "I didn't want the press. Didn't know if you wanted the press.

"So I was trying to get somebody from the hotel over with a NDA for her to sign, so I could explain. So I could get on the roof and get that goddamn ring back. I couldn't get any help but Bodie, and he had no fucking clue how to accomplish that. Marley could see that I was serious, and that it was urgent. So she told me she had her own confidentiality contracts. I signed a therapy contract with her. It was just supposed to be the one explanation, the one talk, but...she was helpful. She gave me good advice about not pressing you to marry me," I tell Mac. "She was really helpful. And Mac...Jesus...you know we've had a lot of shit going on with us." I look at her meaningfully, refusing to elaborate, but she knows what I mean. Her pregnancy. Her PTSD. "I've needed advice. She's been giving it. That was it."

"You expect us to believe that?" Kat scoffs. "That's the most ridiculous story I've ever heard."

"Stand down, bad cop," Ben chuckles, nudging her but never opening his eyes. "You definitely don't want to get in the middle of this."

"Shut your piehole, Killjoy," Kat says.

"Shut yours, Pretty Drunk Package."

Mac is searching my face. "You're serious."

I nod. To my surprise, the angry expression on Mac's face melts into hurt. Tears spill over. "How could you? How fucking could you? Talk about me? With her?"

"Talk to a therapist? Mac, you have a therapist. You don't talk about us?" I ask.

"That's different."

"I don't think so," I frown.

Mac wipes her tears away. "My therapist doesn't have nicknames for me. That girl...your therapist...she's crushing on you, Adam. I heard it in her voice. Don't pretend like you don't see it."

I rub a hand over my face. Fuck. Fucking shit.

"Okay, maybe a little."

"So you think it's okay to talk about us with her?"

"Okay, first of all, we don't really talk about us, so much," I gesture back and forth. "Mostly it's about you. Your..." I hesitate, but what the fuck. It's part of Ben's job to understand about Mac's PTSD; he probably knows more about her triggers and warning signs than I do. And Kat probably knows about Mac's assault, and she certainly understands about trauma, because of Trace's childhood. "She helped me to the right resources about your PTSD. She helps me help you. I don't call her up every time we have a fight or anything. It's not that personal."

"It's personal to her," Mac hisses. "The way she was reaching out to you. It's not work to her. Your therapist doesn't call you at 3am. It's personal."

"Okay, it's not quite just a therapist-patient thing anymore. It was at first. It really was. We had sessions. The appointments were in the middle of the night...she'd call me on her way home from the Lunar Lounge. I paid for her professional services. It was a clear service exchange. But then one night I needed some advice and I reached out to her in the hopes we could have a session. She was drunk and upset, but she wouldn't tell me why. She said it was unprofessional to talk about her private life. I was worried about her. She was really upset. So I fired her as a counselor and told her she could speak freely. She'd been so helpful to me, I wanted to help her."

Kat makes a sound of disgust. "What is it with you and Trace and your damn savior complexes?"

"We're fucking decent people, what do you expect?" I grumble. "You want a date a good guy? Then you chics have to suck it up when our common decency extends to the general population."

"Man makes a point," Ben says from behind closed eyes.

"So let me guess," Mac sighs. "Marley has a broken heart."

"She'd just broken up with her fiance. He cheated." I didn't go into the details.

"Oh shit," Kat sighs. "Adam, you are in so much trouble there. She's lonely. She's vulnerable. She's been done wrong. And you? You're like the nicest guy ever. Plus a rock star. Who calls her to say hello? Adam, Sweetie. Really."

Mac's face is draining pale. "Adam..."

I grip Mac's knees. "Okay, okay. I get it. I fucked up a little, giving her room to crush. But I swear to you Mac...she knows I love you more than anything. Christ, she saw the ring. She knows how much I want to marry you," I whisper. "That's how it all started—with me explaining that to her."

The killer's eyes slice me with their sharpness. Jealousy is the most cutting shade of green.

Mac extends her left hand. "Fine. Put the motherfucking ring on my finger. Tell your therapist mission accomplished and delete her goddamn contact."

I stare at my beautiful, brutal baby-momma. In my peripheral vision, I see Kat holding out the ring.

I take it from her. I open the case, look at the glittering promise that means so much more to me than its appraisal value.

I want it to mean everything, not be a means to end a fight. I want to pledge my soul with it, not prove a point.

I curl Mac's left hand over mine and kiss her ring finger softly. "No, Sweetheart. Not like this. I love you too much to start forever angry."

Mac pulls her hand away.

"I flirted with Dev," she says flatly.

I raise my eyebrows. "To get him to drop the charges?"

"At first. Then it was...like I couldn't help myself. But I didn't mean it."

"I don't know if that's good or bad, actually," I say, but then I press my lips together to stop from saying more.  I can't. I blurt more angry words. "Goddammit, Mac. First Sawyer, then Dev? Didn't we just make rules about all this shit, earlier today?"

"You were breaking the rules with Marley, and didn't even realize it! That's what's worse, Adam!"

I close my eyes. "Maybe you're right. Fuck, I'm so goddamn tired, I don't even know," I mutter.

She grabs the ring box, flips it open. Holds it up to me. "Put it on. Put it on before we both fuck it up!"

I shake my head wearily. "Putting that ring on you won't fix this. My father gives one piece of advice about marriage. Over and over. I've heard him say it all my life.  He says, begin the way you mean to go on.  We aren't starting like this. With jealousy, desperation, anger, fear, confusion.  You were right all along. We've got some shit to work out first."

"Fuck, Adam!" She screams in exasperation. Right in my face.

I don't flinch. Quietly, I say, "Yeah. Fuck, Mac."

Mac turns away with an angry hiss. I flop my head back on the seat with an exasperated huff.

Kat lets out a small  whimper of sympathy.

We ride in silence.

After about five minutes, Ben clears his throat and cracks an eye at me. "You know what, man?"

"What?" I say sullenly.

"You've really cheered me up tonight. Next to your shit, my shit doesn't look quite so dramatic anymore."

I swear. Mac laughs bitterly. Kat pats Ben's leg.

"Just another fun night at the club," I mutter.

"Oh, I have had worse," Kat concludes.

"I've had better," Mac says softly.

It takes more effort than it should, but I reach for her hand. She lets me hold it, but we are not okay. I think about the morning we stood in the ocean after she threw away our last chance at taking it slow, and I realize the foundation beneath us has always been just like that moment.  Us being battered by waves of circumstance, trying to find our footing in shifting sand.

I say a silent prayer that our love is going to be enough.