Brandon groaned and then I lost it. My fist—along with my rings—met flesh as I pounded into his face. “You sick fuck!” I screamed the words, emotion clogging my throat.
She can’t be dead. I felt the blood before seeing it. The red crimson streaked my skin as my fists connected with whatever flesh was available.
“How could you touch her like that?” My yells seemed ridiculously loud, but I couldn’t stop the thought of Andy seemingly dead.
“Madden, stop!” Slightly, underneath the hatred spilling from me, then a soft voice attempting to calm me, telling me to stop. “You’re going to kill him!”
I wanted him dead, lifeless. Unable to ever touch her again. My hands hurt, my body shook, and tears ran down my face, tracing every part of me that felt unable to help.
“Please, Toland,” she begged and I knew it was Andy. Closing my eyes, I dropped my fists, feeling pain insurmountable to describe.
She looked so sad. Bruises touched her jaw, her throat and when I looked around her hands, I noticed that too. Staring at the mess that was Brandon, I noticed the scratch marks, wanting to erase her trauma.
“Little demon,” I rasped. I didn’t have words. You couldn’t ask someone if they were okay after this. Having saved several from monsters of men, I knew that much.
Holding her to me, I rubbed her throat, her face, touching every part of her without caution. I scanned her face, her body, making sure she was alive and okay. My heart ached as my breathing came in rapid bursts, but I couldn’t stop checking if she was okay. My anxiety was past its peak, it had me trembling, shuttering with an inexplainable desperation.
I could have lost her—I almost did.
I couldn’t lose her, I wouldn’t fucking survive.
My mind didn’t even run to the realization that I was touching her unbidden, without flinching or fear. Because she was almost taken from me, and none of that mattered over the fear of never seeing her open her pretty cinnamon eyes again.
“It’s okay,” she cooed, her voice and body trembling. She didn’t look okay, she didn’t seem okay.
“Why was he here?” I bit out angrily, not at her but at the reality that he was here. He shouldn’t be. We agreed, we discussed him never being mentioned again.
She shook her head, her inability to lie evident on her sad face. “I—”
Cut off by people coming into her apartment, I didn’t ask again. Pulling myself away from Brandon, I kept my hands out, making sure they could talk to me.
EMTs looked at Brandon and while I was sure they usually had a stoic expression, I could see on their faces it was going to be a rough recovery for Brandon if he survived.
Police arrived soon after and they spoke to me and Andy. She corroborated everything but they still wanted a formal statement at their department.
Everything after that was a blur.
***
Weeks passed, my hand still fucking hurt. I didn’t talk to Andy, unsure of what to say after she lied. News broke out a few days after I beat Brandon because of our relationship. It hit the news soon after the whole attack. It hadn’t hit me yet, not really.
I couldn’t give a single fuck to the world and how they felt about me and Andy, but her lying to me, not leaving Brandon for real, and for talking to him our entire trip?
That gave me pause.
We had to cancel the first three shows because of her lies. My wrist didn’t break but three of my fingers did. It didn’t feel any worse than when one of my cuts got infected after self-harming, but it made me mad that I was in the position in the first place. She shouldn’t have fucking lied.
“We need to postpone again?” Al asked me, his face unbothered, but like Cars, he didn’t hide his eyes well. “We can.”
I shook my head. “I need to do this, and Cars will be here.” He nodded, but I could see the worry there. Which wouldn’t bother me if half my life wasn’t a lie.
“He’s on his way,” Stony confirmed a few minutes later. “Said he wants to put some makeup on you.” I chuckled, feeling true happiness at that. Cars came to Vegas as soon as the news hit about Andy and me when I went there for the next stop of our tour. The media has been a fucking mess, talking about how we were incestuous and whatnot.
We weren’t related, not really, but they didn’t know our story. How could they?
We kept our relationship under wraps. Not just on tour but in general. No one knew we were related and I didn’t know how that information came forward.
The more I thought about it the more I knew Donnie had a part to play. Even if Brandon was mad enough to let the info out for retribution, his shame would outweigh ours. We didn’t shy away from us, but her choosing me instead of him? That’d be a harsh blow to anyone.
He would know since I broke his face.
Andy ruined me by lying, ruined him by lying, yet my heart and dick still wanted her. At first, Memphis and Carrig brought groupies to me, offered them like fucking meals, and I laughed at the guys.
Did they really think sex with random people would mend what was wrong? There was not a single person other than Andy that could ever fucking suffice for me.
She made me want to give in to touch. She made me want to stop being afraid of emotions. She made me feel.
“Think you’ll want to have a party on the tour bus tonight?” Carrig asked, entering the stage on the left. His face was glazed over, high as a fucking kite.
“Only if the party is drugs and booze,” I warned, not wanting to think about another person trying to touch me.
He groaned. “I wanted to get my dick sucked.” He came closer, offering me a baggie with two Pokémon Mollies. I smiled, thinking of the last time I did these two. It was when I almost fucked Andy the first time.
“You can get your dick sucked all you want,” I said, grabbing the pills and taking them with a shot of vodka. “But I don’t want mine touched.”
He nodded, then Al cringed. “Yeah, I think I’m sitting this one out.”
“The dick sucking or the drugs and booze?” Carrig asked, his bloodshot eyes hitting Al’s with questions. Not sure what that was about but I waited for the response anyway.
“Drugs. Need to stay sober to make sure Cars is safe.”
That made Carrig blanch. He looked at Al then at me, a stricken expression on his face. “He’s coming to the show?” We both said yes at the same time and he stumbled over toward where I sat on the ledge of the stage. He rubbed a palm over his face, unspeaking.
“Bothered?” I tacked on, wanting to know why my best friend had these two in a fucking twist and simultaneously wondering if I even wanted to know the answer.
***
Within fifteen minutes, Cars showed up and my Molly started to feel pretty fucking nice. I rarely did it before a show, but escaping was part of the fun and I needed an extra push tonight.
“Mads,” Cars called out and I tried focusing on him. Then I noticed, Cars was femme presenting and it shook me.
Since coming back into my life, I hadn’t seen her. “Cars,” I sounded out her name, not too slurred but kind of messy sounding.
She shook her head, her face disappointed. “How am I supposed to do your makeup while you’re high?” Her anger wasn’t misplaced, but I knew I could still do it.
“What, me? I’m fine, baby.” She rolled her eyes, which only spurred me on. “I can sit straight while you fuck my face.” Realizing what I said, I corrected. “While you fuck up my face.”