Treat Me (One Night with Sole Regret #8)(8)

"We could try writing something without him."

Owen turned his head and scrunched his brows at Shade. "Why would we do that? Just be patient. It'll come to him. You busting his ass about it all the time isn't going to help."

Shade had never been a patient man, but Owen was probably right. He was going to confront Adam about his lies-he was sick of the guy getting away with shit-and maybe put a little pressure on him, but perhaps if Shade tried to be supportive instead of adversarial that would help Adam break through this block of his.

"I'll give him some breathing room," Shade promised. But only an inch or two.

And now for the band's other major issue . . .

"So are you going to tell Lindsey she's getting that paternity test as soon as fucking possible, or do you want me to do it?"

Owen released a long sigh and returned his attention to the scenery outside. The gnarled trees had already given way to city sprawl. The drive back to civilization seemed a lot shorter than the one that had taken them to the food truck. Of course, they hadn't stopped to harass cows on this leg of their journey.

"I'll tell her," Owen said.

"I'm not sure why you voluntarily interact with her. Do you get off on her attention or what?" Shade would probably never understand the dynamic between that particular groupie and his bass player. 

"I don't know." Owen shrugged. "It's kind of nice to be one who's sought after for a change."

Shade released a bark of laughter and slapped Owen on the shoulder. "Trust me, dude, you do not want her kind of attention."

Back at the venue, Owen took the large foil trays of crawdads to the crew while Shade followed Adam and Madison onto the bus. Madison disappeared into the bathroom to change out of her riding leathers-which she looked fantastic in, Shade couldn't help but notice. Shade took the opportunity to ask Adam how his supposed songwriting session had gone that afternoon.

"Fine." Adam said, his body stiffening defensively.

Fucking liar.

"So you wrote something?" Shade asked.

Adam refused to meet his eyes. "Yeah."

Liar, liar, uninspired.

"Is it good?" Shade asked.

"Of course it's good."

"I'd like to hear it."

Just admit you're fucking lying. Admit it, Adam.

"I'd rather surprise you," Adam said.

Shade's jaw tightened. Why couldn't Adam just say that he hadn't written anything? Shade fought the urge to grab him and shake sense into him. Shade supposed he'd have to play the asshole-again-and force Adam to tell him the truth.

"Is it in your notebook under your mattress? Let's see it." I know it's still fucking blank, because you didn't write shit. Shade headed toward Adam's bunk, and Adam raced after him.

Adam darted between Shade and his bunk, bodily preventing Shade from going after the notebook. "You'll see it when I'm ready for you to see it."

Which will be never, because you haven't written anything! Shade wanted to yell, but he managed to keep his shit together. At least a little.

"Just be straight with me, Adam," Shade said calmly. "You're not as good a liar as you think you are." Shade had no problem telling when Adam was lying because junkie-Adam had lied to him innumerable times in the past. It was hard to believe someone who always let you down.

Adam glared at him for a long moment and when Shade refused to give him an out, he lowered his gaze and for once, his guard. "I didn't write much," he said and took a deep breath. "Or anything," he whispered.

At least he was owning up to it. That was a start. Shade figured a guy with a year of rehab under his belt would realize the first step in solving a problem was admitting there was one.

"I kind of figured that," Shade said. "So what's the problem?"

"I don't know." Adam shook his head, a scowl crumpling his dark brows. "I think . . ."

Shade waited not so patiently for him to confess what was on his mind.

"I think maybe I'm too happy."

That had not been what Shade had expected him to say at all. "Huh?"

"The music always came from the darkest part of me," Adam said.

And that was what made it awesome.

"It was a balm to my miserable soul," he continued, his eyes haunted. Worried? Was Adam actually worried about this? "And now that I'm not miserable . . ." He held Shade's gaze, shrugged, and shook his head.

If he needed assistance, why didn't he just ask? "Do you want me to make you miserable?" Shade joked. "I'm probably up for the task."

"I don't know. If it would help."

Shade didn't want to make him miserable. He wanted to help him through this. He offered a couple of suggestions-asking Kellen's composer girlfriend for opinions or letting the rest of the band try their hand at writing music-but Adam refused to take Shade's advice. Shade could tell he was struggling. Adam probably felt like a failure, so Shade backed down. Still, he wasn't going to let the issue rest for long. They needed new material, but he'd give Adam a little more time to sort himself out.