Chapter Thirty-Eight
Maddox
My feet hit the asphalt, the warm Vegas sun rising on the horizon as the quiet road stretches out in front of us. My breath comes in steady bursts, syncing with the rhythm of Beau’s and Eli’s footsteps beside me.
It should be calming. Running’s usually when I think best on tour, when my brain settles into that place where it’s just blood and lungs and muscles burning. But today, my thoughts won’t shut the fuck up.
Thea’s call from yesterday still loops through my head, and hasn’t let up since.
A rep’s been asking questions.
This is it. What I’ve worked toward for the last ten years. Back when it was just Beau and me, chasing the dream of making it big. A label rep doesn’t “sniff around” unless something’s happening, unless someone important is listening.
This should be the best news of our lives, but instead of the relief I thought I’d feel, doubt starts to creep in.
Eli runs a little ahead, earbuds in, bouncing like he’s jogging for fun. Beau keeps pace beside me, steady, too quiet not to notice. I push harder and focus on running, trying to breathe past the worry.
“Who do you think it is?” Eli asks, pulling out an earbud as he slows his steps. “The label guy? I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“No idea.” I shrug. “Not really thought about it.”
“Yeah, right.” He scoffs, calling me out. “Think it might be someone from Deveraux Records?”
I stumble, feet catching on nothing. That was my first thought, but Paige would rather eat glass than be linked to them. Nepotism isn’t her style, and there are plenty of other labels. Raiders, Punkline… It could be anyone.
We keep running, and I keep my attention on the burn in my calves, the ache in my lungs. Anything but the hollow thud in my chest that’s been there since last night or the way that Paige fills my head every time I close my eyes.
“Dude, are you alright?” Eli asks, concern creeping into his tone. “You’re acting weird today. I’d figured you’d have a bounce in your step or something.”
“I don’t fucking bounce.”
Dismissing me, he slices the air with his hand. “Whatever. This is the biggest thing we’ve ever had. It’s right there, Maddox, like, close enough to touch.”
“He’s just pissed he needs to stop fucking Paige.”
Eli skids to a halt, eyes wide in horror, mouth parted. “Wait— What?”
I stop too, spinning to face Beau. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he says knowingly, but worse than that is the irritation underneath his words. Beau never yells, not when he has a certain tone that can shout louder. “I’ve had my suspicions something was going on all tour, but I know what I saw. Don’t even try to deny it.”
My hands curl into fists as the memory of Beau standing at the end of the hallway flashes behind my eyes. That look on his face I couldn’t place then. I can now.
Disgust. Disappointment. Fury.
“What the hell is your problem?” I snarl, stalking toward him.
“Hold on. You and Paige?” Eli repeats, still frozen. “Since when?”
But I’m not looking at him. I’m locked on Beau, red-hot and ready to snap.
“You told me to be nice to her—”
“I didn’t tell you to stick your fucking dick in her, though, did I?” he snaps.
“Jesus, Beau,” Eli mutters, glancing between us.
My shoulders stiffen as I suck in a breath through my nose. “It’s not like that.”
Beau barks out a humorless laugh. “No? Then what is it, Maddox? A one-time thing? A mistake? Or are you just fucking her while we’re on tour, hoping no one notices until it’s over?”
My thumb brushes over my knuckles, a muscle in my neck twitching painfully. “It’s none of your business.”
“The fuck it isn’t.”
I’m in his face, teeth aching as I grind them together. “You think I don’t know what’s on the line? You think I don’t care?”
“Doesn’t look like you do,” he growls. “You’re sneaking around with our drummer while a label rep is watching. While Reign’s deciding if we go to Europe. While Thea’s busting her ass to make things happen and you’re blowing this—”
“I’m not blowing anything—”
“Stop lying!” Beau's voice rises. “You’re gambling with everything we’ve built.
Do you even remember what it took to get here?
We’ve damn near killed ourselves just to get the chance to be in the same room as people like Reign.
I worked double shifts at Rise and Grind to afford studio time.
Eli was sketching new tattoos for clients after playing shows at midnight to pay for new equipment.
Hell, if it weren’t for the inheritance your grandma left you to fucking bankroll this dream, we’d barely be holding it together. ”
His voice cracks, but he doesn’t stop.
“We’re here, Maddox, almost at the fucking finish line. One phone call away. And you’re risking it for what? A distraction? A secret fuck between sound checks and shows?”
Eli’s quiet. Even though he hasn’t said a single word, he’s watching, listening, because everything Beau said is right. This isn’t about breaking some unwritten band rule. It’s about survival. About the one thing we’ve all poured our souls into, year after year.
Beau presses forward until we’re nose to nose, his irises like a storm cloud on a gray day.
“She’s not a hookup, Maddox. She’s Paige fucking Deveraux. You know. P—”
“You think I don’t fucking know that?” I roar. “You think I don’t lie awake every damn night wishing I could undo this? That I didn’t know from the second I touched her it could all go to hell?”
The fire in Beau dims just a fraction. But it’s still there; smoldering above the surface, still pumping through his veins like kerosene.
“You don’t think I’ve tried to stay away from her? I can’t.”
The admission hangs there, raw and exposed, the first time I’ve ever said it out loud, even to myself, but it’s the truth.
I can’t stay away. Not because of the sex or the secrecy or thrill of sneaking around. But because she means something to me. She’s the voice inside my head when I write now, the reason my music’s better. The reason I’m better.
I’ve been lying to myself, thinking that maybe I could have both. But it’s the band or the girl. The future or the feelings.
“You need to try, Maddox,” he says, his words landing exactly where he wants them. “She’s in the band. This can only end one way. You screw this up, and it’s not just you who goes down. It’s all of us.”
Something twists in my gut, not guilt, or shame, but something terrifying. Something closer to fear. Because he’s right, and I’ve already let it go too far.
“I want this.” Swallowing roughly, I lower my voice. “All of it. The band, the label… Paige.”
Regret lines Beau’s eyes, and for a brief second, he almost looks sorry for what he needs to say. “You know that’s not possible, Mad. No band ever survives hookups. You have to choose.”
The finality in his voice is worse than any fight. It’s a warning, a goodbye if I ignore it.
I look away, turning my back on them, tugging my hair hard enough to hurt. The wind rustles through the trees lining the road, like it’s the only thing still moving. Beau sighs, the sound of his footsteps taking off behind me as Eli lingers, hand on my shoulder in an offer of support.
I nod, not looking at him as he runs to catch up while I stay where I am, alone on the road, the sun now fully up and blinding.
But all I can feel is the cold cast of the shadow settling in my chest.