URGENT (Book 2 of the Soundcrush Series)

Chapter 55: Nice Guys Pre-Game In The ER

Adam

This is not how it's supposed to be. I'm supposed to be the one who takes care of Mac, and Babycakes. I'm supposed to be the one standing strong this weekend, supporting her, easing her into my family, making her feel comfortable and secure, proving to her that I'm a responsible guy who has his shit together—a guy whose ready to be a man, with a (some-day) wife, and a kid on the way.

We were supposed to announce Babycakes to a circle of joy, not to a complete clusterfuck.

Apparently, gossip can not be outrun.

Neither can appendicitis.No matter how much I have tried to delay dealing with it, there's no denying that I have an appendix problem. This massive pain in my lower right quadrant and WebMD have pretty much convinced me.

So here I am, lying in the back seat of an SUV with my head in Mac's lap like a sick little boy, gritting my teeth, sweating and shaking, my heart racing, my brain running a million miles a second, barely able to speak through my clenched teeth and my gasped breath.

I feel like an asshole. I'm the direct cause of putting her in contact with one of her PTSD trigggers--cocaine--and I'm about to cause her to confront another—a hospital emergency room. Not to mention all the stress I've put on her, snapping and snarling at my family, defending her like I'm a starving wolf and she's the last meal I'm ever gonna get.

I can't help snarling and snapping. It's been driving me out of my fucking mind, knowing I was going to end up in the hospital at some point this week-end. Knowing that I'm putting her in her weakest place, and leaving her wide open, alone.

What the hell is wrong with me? Raging asshole is not my normal go-to.

Okay, maybe the coke has something to do with my crazed state.

Fuck, that was really dumb, to use cocaine as a pain relief drug.

"Adam. Adam! Oh god, he's not going into some kind of drug shock, is he?" My mother asks Mac, who is soothing my head with a cool cloth. That irritates me, too. Why is she asking Mac? Like I can't speak for myself.

"I can hear you, I'm just ignoring you," I mumble into Mac's lap. I'm spinnin' inside. I grip onto Mac, because holding her is the only thing keeping me from going off right now.

"Adam, if you can hear, then you should respond. Your mother asked you about your pain." Mac's touch is soft, but her words are still acerbic.

"Not much," I say through my clenched jaw and press my face into her belly. Not much physical pain, anyway. Oh god. Oh fuck. I'm so sorry, Baby. I'm not doing a good job for you and your Mama right now.

"That's probably the coke, though. That stuff makes you feel invincible, at first." Leed says amiably from the back seat.

My mother and Mac make the exact same huffing disapproval, and my brain flashes an image of Mac and my mom, both standing over me and shaking their fingers, shouting at me, then huffing scornfully just like that, their tones softening to a gentle scolding that soothes me. A blurry double image, the pleasing sound of their voices in stereo.

Mom and Mac. So much alike.

I jerk. Shit. I feel the need to jump out of this moving car, to get away from that thought.

Goddamn. Coke makes you think crazy shit.

"I'm freaking the fuck out," I mutter, grasping tighter around Mac's waist.

Her fingers partially unbutton my shirt, and she swabs my slick chest with the cool cloth and says, without much heat, "Me too. Questioning all my life choices. Especially getting knocked up by a dumbass."