Blessed Tragedy(3)

He blinked a few times before speaking. "Wow…I don't think you have to worry about anyone recognizing you." He leaned across the table to play with my high ponytail, "That's really cute. I can imagine that bouncing around while you do your little cheerleader routine."

"Shut it," I snapped. He was having too much fun and I knew more jabs were soon to follow. "I swear, I'll kneecap your ass if you say another word."

I wasn't kidding and he knew it. "Come here," he said patting the seat next to him. I slid in next to Colton and rested my head on his shoulder.

"You'll be fine," he whispered kissing the top of my head. "If you need anything, call me. The only time I won't have my phone right by me is when we're on stage." Colton and Jon had already been figuring out how to rearrange the songs so my vocals would fit their range. Part of me wished I could be there. It would be one of the few times Colton sang more than harmony and the sound of his voice had been a huge comfort to me over the past five years.

"I know," I sighed. The bus started to slow and I took one last look in the mirror. While not something I would normally wear, I had to admit the soft color palette the woman at the MAC counter selected for me looked good. I was Rock Star Barbie on her day off. Looking at myself in the mirror, I didn't even feel the urge to vomit, which I fully expected to feel.

When the bus pulled into the truck stop parking lot, Colton followed me to the car my dad had dropped off for me last night, leaving the keys under the seat. Another sure sign I was stepping into a different world than the one I'd grown used to. "I guess this is it," I said sadly. I felt like an awful daughter because I was more upset about watching the guys pull away from me than I was about the next few days at home burying my mom.

Colton wrapped his arms around me holding me tight for a minute. "I mean it, Maddie…call me." He glanced over his shoulder blowing me a kiss as he boarded the bus and the door closed behind him.

I fought tears as I watched my life turning back onto the Interstate. Surrounded by the guys, I was able to hold everything together. Standing alone in the abandoned truck stop, I crumbled.





Chapter Two



I've become so accustomed to being in big cities or driving down a four-lane highway that the streets of Lexington felt empty. It was the first time I fully understood what was meant by a 'sleeper community'. It felt like no one was left in town once they left for work in the morning.

I pulled my dad's Mazda into the local gas station to pick up a peace offering. While it was possible everyone would be up and fed by the time I got there, I knew donuts are always a welcome treat.

Shifting the car into park, I looked over my shoulder to see if anyone I knew was pulling into the parking lot. Most places, I would be looking for paparazzo with their cameras, but not here. Even if I wasn't in the middle of nowhere, someone would have to take a long, hard look to realize that I'm Rain Maxwell, singer and guitarist for Blessed Tragedy, not just another twenty-something driving through town. I guess there is something to be said for my bubble gum pink sweater, jeans and ankle boots.



My hands were cold and clammy as I shifted the car into park in the driveway of my childhood home. Until that moment, I knew why I was coming home but there was still a disconnect. My chest tightened as I realized that my mom wouldn't be waiting for me on the other side of the door. Not today, not ever again.

The only people I had relied on over the past five years were sound asleep on a bus cruising down the highway. They were more of a family to me than most of the people standing on the other side of the red front door.

Stalling for more time, I pulled out my iPhone. I debated calling Colton like he'd told me too but I didn't want to risk waking him. It was a flimsy excuse since he'd likely be up for the day now that he was pulled out of bed; the truth was I wasn't sure I could hold myself together if I heard his voice, knowing I'd told him to leave. Instead, I sent him a text.



Wish me luck, I'm going in. Kick ass tonight!



My cell phone vibrated against my thigh as I reached to collect my purse and the donuts.



No luck needed. You got this. Remember we're here for you if you need us. When do we not kick ass?



If it wouldn't be rude, disrespectful and likely to make my life even more of a living hell, I could have sat in the car all morning talking to Colton. It seemed crazy that I'd barely been away from him and the other guys for an hour and I felt like I was missing a part of myself.



We'll see. I know you are. And remember, I'm not there tonight. Have you thought about the fact that I might be why you kick ass? Really, I'm going now.

I turned off my phone, eliminating the temptation to wait for his response. As I opened the door, the curtains in the living room window fell back into place, letting me know there was no hope of slinking into the house unnoticed.

My dad appeared in the open doorway. "Welcome home, Maddie," he said flatly. I balanced the donuts in one outstretched hand to prevent them from being crushed as Dad pulled me close to him. I felt the bitterness inside of me easing as I breathed in the woodsy cologne that would always remind me of him. It pained me when I looked up to his face, noticing his deep blue eyes were clouded and lifeless. If you had asked me to describe one thing that was uniquely my father, it would have been the ever-present sparkle in his eyes.

The donuts were grabbed by a brother who couldn't be bothered to acknowledge whose hand he'd pulled them from. "You're welcome," I shouted around Dad.

"Sorry I didn't get here sooner," I whispered. "Why didn't you call me?"

Dad pulled me into the house, closing the door behind us. Before he could say anything in response, I heard my oldest brother, Matt, lumbering down the stairs.

"Well, well," he sneered, "the big shot celebrity deigns us with an appearance." I always feel like I'm under a microscope with the way he scrutinizes every inch of my appearance. "You clean up pretty good.” His compliment caught me off-guard; it sounded sincere, even if his voice still held an undertone of bitterness.

"Thanks, Matt," I replied. My gaze shifted between him and my father. I wanted an answer to my question. "Dad, why didn't you guys call me to tell me how bad she was?"

Mark, the youngest of my three brothers snuck out the front door mumbling something about grabbing my suitcase. Judging by the powdered sugar on his cheek, the donut caper mystery had been solved.

Dad and Matt appeared to be having a non-verbal conversation in front of me involving a lot of furrowed brows, shaking heads and glances my way. They were trying to figure out how to avoid telling me something. What? Matt motioned to the kitchen and Dad disappeared down the hall.

With Dad safely out of earshot, Matt turned to me, standing up straighter with his shoulders back in a typical move to intimidate me. "Drop it, Maddie," he scolded me. This is nothing new. Matt is ten years older than me and he's always acted more like a disciplinarian than a sibling.

I glared at him. "Why should I? No one bothered to call me and tell me what was going on and then you call me like I'm the bitch for not getting here in time." I tried to hold it together for my dad's sake but I really wanted to scream at Matt for making me feel like crap about this. He didn't realize that it would be next to impossible to make me feel worse than I already did.

Matt's fingers dug into my upper arms. "Maddie, do you really think Dad needs your shit right now? For once in your life, stop thinking about yourself and think about him." I wanted to slap my brother for the implication that I only thought about myself but I knew there was a nugget of truth in his words.

Like a petulant child, I twisted myself from his grasp and ran up the stairs to my old bedroom. There was no way in hell Matt would see how his low opinion of me hurt. How could he think I wouldn't have come home if I knew my mom was dying? Are there really people out there who are so self-centered they wouldn't drop everything if it meant they got the chance to say goodbye?

Other than a layer of dust, everything in my bedroom was as it had been the day I graduated. I expected to want to vomit upon seeing the overdose of every shade of pink imaginable but it was also comforting. My mom and I had created this space together. For as much as she'd complained about them, my mom didn't even bother to take down the posters of various teen heartthrobs that I insisted on putting up in an attempt to cover the cotton candy pink walls.

Flopping onto the full-size canopy bed, I reached for my phone. At some point I would have to face my dad and brothers again, but for now I was more than content to hole up in my room texting Colton.



Shoot me now.



There was a knock on the door. I debated trying to lay still in hopes whoever it was would go away but I knew that wouldn't work. If anything, it would just encourage my brothers to be annoying pricks. "Hang on," I called out, dragging my aching, exhausted body from the mattress.