The song for this chapter is "Jackson" by Johhny Cash and June Carter Cash. I chose the Joaquim Phoenix/Reese Witherspoon cover from Walk The Line, the autobiographical movie about these married singers love story. Wait til mid chapter for the internal song reference.
Mac
I just stand there, watching Adam sway and swat at Harper as she dances around him, trying to distract him from shooting the ping pong ball.
Bodie yells, "Alright, Chic! Leave the man alone! No fucking around in Redemption." Bodie slaps Adam hard on the back. "You got this, man. Just make the shot and we go into 3-Cup Overtime."
I roll my eyes. It's like they are back in college. This is the only "sport" stoner musicians actually play. How many times have I seen Adam and Bodie celebrate their beer pong victory like they won a fucking Superbowl?
Adam takes the shot and misses. That was sudden death; the Strut Girls screech and high five each other in victory as Adam yells, "Goddammit! Shit! Bodes! Fuck! Sorry man! You played amazing, and I fucked it up!"
He and Bodie are huggin' it out and back thumpin'. They still haven't noticed me. I'm standing just inside the slider, hand on hip, irritation warring with pity. On the one hand, I'm furious with Adam for ditching our bed to party all night. It's true that for the moment, Babycakes and I are doing perfectly fine, but did he not know how much I needed his arms around me last night?
On the other hand, he looks truly miserable, and I get a feeling the loss and the alcohol he's consumed are only a small part of that misery. Maybe he felt like he couldn't come to me with a burden like that.
Bodie's saying, "S'okay, man. You got bigger worries than beer pong. You played great, considering you are absolutely wasted and worried as hell and we practically chained you to the goddamn table to keep you here for the last three hours." Bodie opens his arms to the Strut girls. "Ladies, great game. Let's go again."
"Fuck no, not again," Adam groans. The girls laugh. "No way," Row says. "We're one up. Finally. Victory is sweet." She picks up their remaining two red cups full of beer and presents them to Bodie and Adam. "It's not over til the losers finish the beer."
I see my opportunity. "Let me help!" I say with overly bright cheerfulness. I stalk forward as Row grins at me. Yeah, yeah, we're friends, bitch, but you aren't at the top of my love-list right now. I pull the cups from her forcefully.
"Mac!" Adam says in surprise, his eyes widening.
Before he can get another word in, I dump one of the beers over his head. He's too drunk to even react much to the cold beer shower.
"Goddammit, Adam! This is the douchiest thing you've ever done!"
He reaches for my arm. "Baby, shit! I lost track of time. I'm so sorry...this...this isn't what it looks like..."
I jerk away from him. "It looks like you are so freaked out about the baby that you got wasted with Bodie to stop feeling all the bad stuff, and then the Strut girls rolled in from partying in Boston and suckered you into playing beer pong, and your damn frat-boy pride wouldn't let you walk away."
"Wow. It's exactly what it looks like, then," Bodie says with a grin. I make a deep throated noise of frustration with him and dump the other beer over his head. He laughs and tries to gently hug me, but I shove him and he makes no more attempts to tease me, physically. I guess Adam has schooled him not to be his normal rough-housing self.
"What's wrong with the baby?" Row says, looking between us.
"Everything is okay for now, but yesterday, I was bleeding and we found out there's still a problem. The doctor says one in three women with this problem have a miscarriage." I tell her, still glowering at Adam as he looks at me with pained eyes and wipes the beer from his eyes with his shirt. "The bleeding has completely stopped, by the way," I tell him softly.
He closes his eyes and nods, but he's not praying thanks like I expected. His lips move slightly when he prays. Fuck, he's probably just trying not to vomit, or pass out. Finally, he manages, "That's so good, Shortcake. I'm so glad."
Suddenly Adam is knocked off balance as Row shoves him and smacks him in the back of the head. "Jesus Fucking Christ, Heartley!!! What the fuck is wrong with you? What the hell are you drunk off your ass for when Mac needs you? I thought you were the Matt del Marco of this band, but it turns out you're just a drunk douche! My mom had a miscarriage between Lane and Alley and it was awful for her! My dad didn't leave her alone for a minute...not for a month, and you're just gonna party on through Mac's crisis? If my dad were here he would kick your ass right now!" She shoves at him again, but Adam, with his eyes open and expecting it, is immovable against her fury.
He ignores her repeated shoves and takes a step toward me. "Mac, I'm so sorry. I thought you were asleep. I knew I couldn't sleep...I—"
I hold my hand up. "Adam, don't talk to me right now, because I'm so fucking pissed, and I can't afford to get anymore upset, listening to your drunken apology. I get how this happened. I really do. You're a wreck over the idea that we might lose the baby, and this is just...the fall-out. But get your shit together, because I need my husband, not the drunk frat-boy."
I turn on my heels and run into a wall of Leed—right into his chest. His arms go around me automatically. Leed always smell like sandalwood and musk and the barest hint of chocolate, but in a good way. I smile for what seems like the first time in ages.
"Hey," I mumble into his chest. "Missed you."
"I got you, Baby Girl. Let's go get some breakfast."
"Sounds like a great idea," I say as he turns me away from the offending scene of my drunken husband. Adam tries to follow. "Mac, please."
"You heard her, Adam. Sober the fuck up. Get your shit together. Then she'll talk to you. Until then, steer the fuck clear, you got me?" Leed growls.
The guys have apparently rented a few nice cars; Leed drives me around the Vineyard in a Ferrari until he finds a bagel shop, and we take our breakfast back to the beach. Mostly we eat in silence. Leed is the best at easy empathy. He doesn't make a big deal about either the scare with the baby or Adam, he just keeps me smiling and laughing. He's so calm and good and radiant that just being with him soothes my worries and my anger at Adam.
Finally, as I wipe crumbs from my lap and dig my toes into the cool morning sand, I ask, "So I guess Adam told you everything. And I guess from the way Adam got trashed, there was some drama. Adam probably wants to put me in one of those old fashioned sedan chairs and have me carried everywhere I go."
Leed grins. "Nah, nothing like that."
"What is he thinking?" I squint my eyes at him. "That he doesn't want me on the road? That I should stay in Nashville?"
Leed pitches back onto the sand, rising up into a back bend. "Wow, it feels good to stretch," he says, ignoring my questions. "Wanna do a couple of easy sun salutations?"
"No, I want you to answer my questions. What happened last night?"
Leed sighs. "Mac, you don't need to stress it. Adam was blowing off steam, okay? Just thinking all his stressed, crazy thoughts out loud. It's all going to be okay. He'll get his head straight, cause he's that kind of guy. Just tell him what you want, what you need, and the dude will kill himself to make it happen. Especially after his epic beer pong fuck-up." He collapses in the middle and rises with grace, pulling me gently to my feet. "Come on. You still look really tired, and I want to cuddle with my niece," he winks. "Nap time."
We head back to the mansion, settle into the study with a blanket and Netflix. I guess some people might think it's weird that I snuggle with my adult brother, but we're rock stars. We're eccentric. And Leed truly is the best cuddle-buddy, next to Adam.
I wake up hours later to find I am sandwiched between Leed and Tam. "Hey," I yawn lazily at my friend, who looks adorable in over-alls. I give Leed a quick glance. He hasn't seen her in almost a month, and he can't keep his eyes off her baby belly, which is still adorable but definitely protruding more at nearly seven months pregnant. I have a sudden desire to feel that round and solidly pregnant myself. Tamara is almost 32 weeks...if something happened now, she could deliver her baby and it could still thrive. I lay a hand on her nearly sure baby belly. "When did y'all get here?"
"I came with Kat and Ben." She's not as good at hiding her worries as Leed. "Oh, girl. Leed told me everything. You okay?" She hugs me tight.
I nod. "Yeah, we're going to be okay. It's just going to be a long five weeks, until we hit the twenty week mark and put this worry behind us." There's an awkward pause. Tam and Leed are unsure if they should talk baby or not. I pull out my phone. "The doctor we saw yesterday was really great. He emailed us the sonogram. Want to see?"
Leed gets a huge grin on his face. He whips out his phone. "Let's pull up our little guy's portrait and see if they look alike." Tam laughs at Leed, and we all put our heads together comparing the two little cousins in utero.
"Do you think your baby could possible have red hair?" I ask Tam. She looks at Leed speculatively, and then fingers her own dark, springy locks. "Who knows? The baby will be three-quarters white...so I guess, maybe?"
"Naw," Leed smiles. "Little Man is gonna be exotic like Tam. My swagger, her looks, the kids is gonna break hearts before he's fifteen."
We talk babies for a awhile, but I want to give them some time alone, since Ben seems to have been sent on a mission elsewhere. I go upstairs to make myself presentable for the cookout-slash-party.
I can tell Adam has been in our room showering, but he's not here now. I feel a little sad. I hate feeling disconnected from him. It wasn't supposed to be like this. We had our wedding night...and that was it. The next night I was on a plane to LA, and we spent weeks apart, with tense phone conversations. Yesterday—considering Dev and Dawes and the scare with the baby—it wasn't just our worst married day...it was probably our worst day ever. And today we are still tense and distant. We have to find a way back to one another, and our go-to—sex—is off the table right now. I pick up Adam's beer-drenched t-shirt from where he neatly hung it over the towel bar. It still smells like him, beneath the beer. I use it to wipe away tears and then I take a shower to wash away the rest of my irritation with him.
I put on a little eye makeup, but I don't spend too much time. I'm glad to be free of the LA pressure to be camera ready. While I'm mussing my hair with some spritz, I make a mental note to return to my strawberry blonde color and soon. The red still shocks me every time I see it, and it makes me look too pale without stage makeup. I put on a stretchy blue tank dress and admire my baby curve in the mirror. I think about hiding it by throwing a sarong on top, because anyone could snap a picture from the beach, but I decide, screw it. I'm going on faith. Adam taught me that much. I'm going to feel pregnant, act pregnant, think pregnant, proudly look pregnant, and by the grace of God...stay pregnant.
I don't see Adam anywhere when I go downstairs, so I wander over to the sing-along in progress, and get roped into singing Colbie Calliat songs by Street. I wave at Kat, who comes out and is immediately devoured by Trace, though I can see why—I'm not that into girls, but she looks fucking hot in her bikini and those henna tats. Right behind her is Adam, looking completely sober and carrying a water and a bottle of beer. I tense a little—is he really planning to start drinking again?— but as he passes Trace and Kat, he passes the beer off to Dr. Call-Me-Kade, whom I didn't realize was here, with the dark-haired girl from the airport. She must be his girlfriend. I make a note to ask later.
Like we planned it, I meet Adam on the boardwalk headed to the beach. He takes my hand. We don't really look at each other.
"You look beautiful," he says. "And rested. How are you feeling?"
"The baby is moving alot. The bleeding has totally stopped, and I feel really good, actually. I guess I needed a dose of Leed's TLC." I don't mean to be bitter, but even to my own ears, it sounds like an incrimination. He drops my hand.
"I screwed up, MacKenna. I know that. I realize now...you needed me last night, and I let you down. I was too in my own head, and I didn't put your needs first. Like I vowed. I'm sorry. I have no excuse. If it's any consolation, I feel incredibly disappointed in myself. We've not even been married a month, and I already broke one of my vows to you."
"We promised a lot of things. We got married in a fever." I cut him a sideways look. He gives me a small smile at the sarcastic joke I just made. We got married in a fever is the first line of the classic country song Jackson, by Johnny Cash and his wife June Carter Cash. The song is about an unhappy couple who married in haste. During the song, both the singers threatening each other with going to "Jackson" to cut out on their marriage.
"I ain't going to Jackson." Adam assures me.
I snort. "I think Jackson came to you last night, Adam."
He puts his hands in his pockets and stares out at the relentless tide tumbling to the shore. I watch his eyes. The same kind of turmoil still roils in them, but his demeanor is perfectly calm as he says, "I'm gonna stop drinking, Mac."
I can't say I'm not a little relieved to hear this, but then again, I don't really think Adam is an alcoholic. "Completely?" I ask casually.
He nods slowly. "Yeah, at least for awhile. I never really thought I had a problem, but lately, I drink when I'm not happy, and that's not good. Unhappy drunks turn into..."
"Ross Gallants," I say softly.
"I would never hurt you like that, but that doesn't mean that I didn't hurt you just as badly last night by getting drunk and losing control of my priorities. I can't say enough sorries, but they don't mean much. Changing the bad habit means more."
I lay a hand on his shoulder, but he doesn't move toward me. He just keeps staring out at the ocean. "Okay. Thank you. I accept your apology. I'm glad you're going to cut back for awhile. It will be easier, now that I'm back with you, right? I know you'll want to make sure I'm in bed early, right?" I tease. "And you'll be there with me, right?"
He takes my hand off his shoulder and kisses my hand. "Nowhere else I'd rather be, than with my girls. I want every second I can get."
I frown a little. Every second he can get. It's like he's expecting us to lose the baby. "Adam, I believe Babycakes is going to be okay. I have to believe that. I need you to believe that."
He nods, putting an arm around my waist, kissing my temple. "Of course. We'll be fine. Everything will be okay, Shortcake."
God, he's an even worse liar than Leed, when he's lying to himself. I don't call him out on it, though. I vowed to seek to understand him. I need to understand what's behind his fears.
"Adam, talk to me. I understand yesterday was super stressful, but was there a specific reason you got so drunk? I mean, was it dealing the guys? Stuff about the tour schedule, the performances? We have to talk about this stuff, work it out, you know."
"It's not that stuff. We did have some words about it, but Riley...suggested...we wait to see your new specialist and of course, wait for you to be present to hash all that out."
"Then what was it driving you to drink last night?"
He takes a few steps away from me, toward the ocean. The foamy rush claims his shoes, but he doesn't even notice. All his struggle is internal. I kick off my shoes and join him in the surf, slipping under his arm, pulling his chin down, forcing him to look at me. "Hey, I vowed to always seek to understand you. So help me out, here, Adam. Tell me what's in your head."
His face crumples in pain. "We both know that the problem...with placenta tearing or whatever...we both know how that could have happened. It's my fault, Mac. Just like the drinking. Because I'm weak. Undisciplined. Impulsive."
"What are you talking about?"
He won't even look at me. "How many times did I take you rough? In the hotel, in the equipment trucks, on the parked bus, in LA...so many times, Mac. One of those times, I hurt you, and you were just too high on our sex to realize it, or too fierce to admit it."
I snatch at his arm, and force him to look at me. "You're serious? You think our sex caused the hemorrhage?"
He doesn't answer. I smack my hand to my face. "Adam, do you know that I laid awake in bed last night thinking the exact opposite thing? Sure that something I did caused it? Remember the hot tub—you told me it could cause miscarriages. And all those times I took a sip of alcohol...did it add up? Did it cause this? You don't get to pull away because you feel guilty, because I have my own set of doubts. If we are going to play the blame game, we are going to do it together, do you hear me?"
He does look at me then, his furrowed brow smoothing as he takes me in his arms. "Baby, you heard what the doctor said. You didn't do anything to cause this."
"Well if I didn't, you didn't either. We just have to...accept what is. Love each other. Love our baby. One day at a time. I can't do it without you," I warn.
"I'm right here, baby." He pulls me to him, his whole body forming around mine, his arms splaying against my back tenderly. "I'm right here. I'm with you. I'm never going anywhere."
I relax into him, eager for his strength and heat. I hear his words, feel his comfort, but his eyes...they are still fierce like the rough tide.
"So, we're good?" I ask hesitantly.
He smiles his Preacher smile. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? I'm the one that fucked up."
"Well, I did kiss Dev, we haven't talked about that," I tease him.
"I know you didn't like it. It was obviously so disgusting it triggered you."
I laugh. "That's true. And after I saw him practically end Dawes, I'd prefer Dev stay five feet away from me at all times."
"Good, I agree." He pretends to scowl at me. "The thing I want to know is...were you going to tell me? That you rehearsed the kiss in private?"
"Yes, but not until after the Call-Out."
Adam snorts. "Lot of that going around." He turns me around and we walk lazily, together back toward the beach house, my hand in his back pocket, his arm very loosely over my shoulders.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"A little while ago, Leed figured out that Street painted Kat's tats. He mentioned it to me. I played dumb, but I asked her if she was planning to tell Trace, since I feel like if she doesn't, we'd be keeping something from him. She said she's going to tell him after the Call-Out."
"Mmmm. Adam...about those tats...are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"That she crawled out of that closet with a tat that ended on her shoulder and now she's got a full front painting, too? Yeah. I really don't want to know, though."
"I do," I say indignantly.
"Of course you do, Woman," Adam sighs. I pinch him in the side. He pulls me around in front of him and gives me a chaste and unsatisfying kiss.
"Goddamn, it's going to be a long five weeks," I murmur. "Do you realize we've only had one night of love-making since we got married?"
"Yeah, I do, but it's like I told you once before, I don't just love you for the fucking. Honestly, feeling the way I feel right now, I don't know if I'll...be able to...until Babycakes is here and you're healed."
"Even if we get the all-clear in a few weeks," I ask, very surprised to hear this.
He shrugs and looks away.
I drop my hands from his shoulders. "You've got to be fucking kidding, Preacher."
I give him my killer stare. He shakes his head, helplessly. "I don't know. Right now, the idea makes me almost nauseous."
I shove at him. "The idea of making love to me makes you sick?"
"The idea of causing you to lose our baby makes me sick with fear," he corrects. "I think maybe if I'm being honest, it's part of the reason I didn't come to bed last night. It's not that I don't trust my self control, it's just...fucking weird to want you and feel so horrible for wanting you at the same time."
I lean my head on his chest and groan. "Adam. You can't pull away from me like that. I need you."
"I know. I promise, I'm going to hold you and comfort you and cherish you both, every night. I'm sure I'll get used to the terror."
I shove him. "Shut up."
He chuckles. "Tonight is not a problem anyway. I'm so tired, feeling like a lusty lecher is not even an option. There's nothing I want more than just go to bed right now and fall asleep with you."
"Well, you're gonna have to wait. Cause I took a long-ass nap and I'm starving. Do you smell those ribs?" I ask.
"Hey, if you want to eat like a carnivore, I'm all about that," he agrees, and we climb the steps to the house. I look back at him and smile. He returns it, but the secret storm in his eyes remains.
Wow, these two are really trying to act like married adults, aren't they. But Adam is still holding back many of fears and worries and thoughts from Mac. I think that's not going to work for very long...Thoughts?