Chapter Twenty-Eight
Maddox
The stench of sweat, instant ramen, and Eli’s bargain-bin body spray clings to the seats, the curtains, the air itself, the gross mixture filling the bus.
Paige is curled up in her booth, tablet resting on her knee, headphones hanging in her ears like she doesn’t notice that at any second, they could fall out.
Her eyes are glazed over, her face pinched with that kind of look that screams back the fuck off before anyone can even approach her.
Digging through the fridge, I pull out a protein shake, watching her from under my arm. She shifts again, then once more, a low growl sounding as she brings her legs closer, trying to get comfy before she groans, pressing the heel of her hand into her lower stomach, her eyebrows pinching together.
I understand it now. It’s the same look she’s worn over the last few days when she’s tried to work on my lyrics, the unusually clipped way she answers Beau or Eli whenever they ask her a question, the way she’s been tugging her hoodie sleeves over her hands like she wants to disappear.
She’s in pain. And pissed off.
Exhaling, she yanks out her earbuds, slamming them onto the table. “I’m gonna go nap in the back.”
“You okay?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Halfway out of the booth, she pauses, scowling at me. “I’m fine.”
“You sure? Because you’ve been in a mood recently, and…” I trail off because that was not the right thing to say.
“Seriously, Maddox?” she snarls, each step forward like a lion cornering a mouse.
“Don’t mess with me. I’m hormonal. I’ve got cramps that feel like they’re trying to kill me from the inside, the water pressure in the shower sucks, we’ve been on this bus for sixteen hours…
” She glares up at me, breathing in deep.
“And I’ve run out of fucking tampons. So forgive me if I’ve been in a mood. ”
Storming past me, she bumps her shoulder into mine, knocking me out of the way as she heads down the hall, toward the back room. Pausing, she turns to glower over her shoulder. “If we stop at a service station, wake me up. I need to go in.”
“Sure.”
“I mean it,” she snarls, and I hold up my hands disarmingly before she disappears into the room, slamming the door.
I let out a breath and sag against the counter, holding my protein shake limply in my grasp. What the fuck just happened?
Slowly, I head to the living space, lowering onto the sofa next to Beau.
“Dude,” Eli says, eyes wide as he glances at the door. “Not gonna lie, I was a little bit scared for you there.”
“Shut up, man,” Beau mutters, his eyes on the TV. “Anyone with half a brain could tell she’s on her period.”
Eli’s head turns, his lips pursed. “How the hell do you know?”
Rolling his eyes, Beau picks up the remote and turns up the volume. “I’m not a dumbass. Plus, I’ve had girlfriends before.”
Eli blinks at me for a beat before turning back to the screen. The show is ridiculous, with over-the-top acting and just the right level of mindlessness with exactly zero plot that I can let my brain chill.
Stretching out my legs, I lean back, grabbing a handful of the popcorn sitting on Beau’s knee, listening to his commentary on every scene like he was the damn director, letting myself enjoy the moment of stillness.
My boys, the wide-open road, and for the first time in days, I sink into it, the gentle sway of the bus, the soft glow from the TV, the low buzz of dubbed laughter…
content in a way I haven’t felt in years.
I can feel myself drifting off to sleep by the lulling movements and the familiar voices around me. We’ve played three shows in four nights, and my body’s running on fumes. My fingers are sore, my throat’s raw, and I’ve never been this exhausted…or this fucking alive.
Touring with Reign is like a shot of adrenaline straight to my veins. Sold-out crowds, the high of performing every night, the pressure looming in the wings that each time we step out onto that stage, it’s a chance to show anyone who’s watching just what we’re made of.
It’s everything I’ve ever wanted and everything I didn’t realize I’d kill for until now.
The bus shifts slightly as we start to slow, and I jerk upward, my gaze flashing toward the window.
“Where are we?” I ask, craning my neck to speak to the driver. “Are we stopping soon?”
“No, the next service station isn’t for miles,” he replies, turning down an off-ramp. “Why? Do you need me to pull over?”
I pause as I glance at the door at the far end of the bus. “Is there a Target or something close by?”
Eli looks up, his thumbs hovering over one of those stupid games he’s always playing. “You ran out of clean underwear?”
“Nah.” I laugh and get to my feet. “Just figured we could stretch our legs.”
Beau squints at me, his eyes narrowing as watches me pocket my wallet, the bus easing to a stop in the parking lot. “You waking Paige?”
I look at the door again and shake my head. “Let her sleep.”
He studies me, his grey eyes assessing, like he’s trying to read every micro-expression on my face.
“Okay, let’s go.”
The sliding doors part with a mechanical hiss, the cool air hitting my skin as we step into the store.
Eli veers off toward the snack aisle, Beau close behind him while I pretend I’m going to follow too.
Instead, I grab a basket and head in the opposite direction, my heart hammering at what I’m about to do.
Loading up with a bunch of pain relief, I round the corner, slowly making my way around the store to the section I actually need, my eyes snagging on a fluffy pink heating pad. That goes in too, along with several facemask packets that feel odd when I touch them.
Standing frozen, I stare at the shelves in front of me, feeling completely out of my depth.
Fuck. This felt like a good idea ten minutes ago.
Looking down at the red basket hanging off my arm, I cringe. Tylenol, a heating pad, some essential oil things that looked girlie and shit, a few chocolate bars and Nerd Ropes… Like, twenty of them.
What the hell am I even doing?
My eyes sweep the shelves again, my brain blanking at all the options. Why are there so many? Pads. Tampons. Liners. One box says “Regular,” and another down from it says “Super” or “Super Plus Extra.” There’re non-plastic options, a 3-in-1 special, at least half mentioning an applicator.
What the fuck is an applicator for?
“Dude.” Beau’s voice comes from behind me, and I jump. “What are you doing?”
I spin around, and he laughs at the panic on my face. He’s holding a basket too, but unlike mine, his is full of stuff for himself; drinks, candy, deodorant.
“I don’t know what to get,” I mutter, dragging a hand through my hair. “She said she’s out of tampons, but there’s like a million different types.”
His grin fades slightly as his eyes narrow. Not in a bad way, more…calculated.
“She asked you to get this?”
I shake my head.
“But you’re doing it anyway?”
“Figured it would be better to let her sleep and I’d just grab her stuff…” I turn back to the shelves, each box mocking me.
“Right…and you’re planning on buying the entire aisle and letting her play tampon roulette?”
“Help me,” I beg. “What's the difference between ultra and regular? I don’t even know what flow she has. Heavy? Light? Should I have asked?”
“Fuck no.” Beau chuckles as he reaches past me and grabs a couple of boxes. “I’m guessing if she’s this miserable, she’s not going to want to get caught short again. Get both. Tampons and pads. Also, get the night ones, y’know the ones that are like diapers?”
I glare at him. “No, I don’t know what ones are like fucking diapers.”
“Out of the way,” he grumbles, moving through the aisle like this is routine.
“You are weirdly good at this,” I say as he tosses more things into my basket.
“Dated a girl once who made me do this on the regular.” He grabs a different box and chucks that in too. “You learn fast when you get yelled at for bringing back scented ones.”
“Scented?”
“Yeah. Don’t do that. Ever.” He pauses, looking thoughtfully at the haul of sanitary products, reaching in and rummaging through it. “Really? Do you think she needs all these Nerd Ropes?”
I shrug, yanking the basket away from him. “I don’t know what she needs, but these things are addictive, and I’m pretty sure they might be her favorite candy.”
“Fair enough,” he says, lifting his hands. “She definitely has a sweet tooth.”
We walk toward the checkout, and I feel this sort of weird new bond between us now. Apparently, buying half an aisle of period supplies will do that to a friendship.
“Thanks,” I say, nodding toward the pile of stuff on the conveyor belt. “I couldn’t have done that without you.”
He nods, staying quiet until, “Seriously, though. You good?”
The question is simple, but I can hear all the other ones he doesn't ask underneath it.
Why are you doing this?
Why for her?
Why now?
I set the basket to the side, answering him with a half-truth. “Yeah, just figured she’s not feeling great, the tour’s a lot, even for us, so why not make it easier for her?”
I don’t look at him while I say it, but I already know his expression. It’s the same one he wears whenever he sees me doing something “off-brand” from how I used to treat her.
He doesn’t push more, just watches as I scan the things Paige never asked for as Eli bounds up beside us, peering into to the bag, screwing up his face.
“Uh…did I miss something?” he asks, poking around the cardboard boxes.
I pause, a box of super-plus tampons in my hand, glancing at Beau. Slapping Eli’s hand away, he gives me a pointed stare as he ushers him to the side, laughing like it’s nothing. “Dude, don’t even ask.”