Prologue – Gotcha

August 25th, 2013 – Arkansas

The bottle cap popped off the tall glass bottle releasing a whoosh of pressure and leaving another mar in the wood grain of the table next to him.

Barely giving the blemish from the sharp edges of the cap a glance, he threw the disfigured bottle cap on top of the table and immediately lifted the bottle to his lips. Beer – it was what he needed to get through this atrocity that MTV called an awards show.

He had sat here for over an hour, waiting for it.

He had heard about the possibility of an NSYNC reunion from a coworker. The man had come into work moaning and groaning about how excited his 30-something wife was, and how lame it was. It had immediately piqued his interest.

He didn't let anybody know about his obsession. Around these parts of the South, he would likely be labeled a “sissy” or a “faggot” if anybody knew he followed NSYNC as closely as he did. He wouldn't call himself a fan. He didn't particularly like their music, and he sure as hell didn't like them for their looks like the girls did.

He only followed them because of her. Because he couldn't get past her, and how she had left him like she did.

It was all he had done for the past two months – follow them, and think of her, the whole time he watched what they were doing. It was only because she loved them so much.

So he had to watch tonight, in case it happened – wondering if she was doing the exact same thing right now, wherever she was.

He smiled when they came on stage, finally. He could imagine what was going through her mind right now, if she was watching.

But it was what he saw after they had finished their performance – as they cut the camera to the audience – that made him drop the bottle to the ground, the beer spilling on the carpet.

It was too quick and caught him too off-guard for him to tell for sure that it was actually her standing in the audience.

“Couldn't be,” he said to himself.

He was convinced that his mind had started playing tricks with him a few seconds after he saw it. After all, now that she was gone, he saw her everywhere – even when she wasn't there.

It was what he saw just after the whole performance had finished, that made him absolutely sure he was seeing it right.

The cameras cut to the men walking backstage after their performance – and the first thing he saw was the older blonde one, holding the hand of his smiling wife. Behind him, it was the oldest one – the one with the black-ish hair. The two of them looked at each other, smiling.

And then he saw her on his arm.

She was smiling – as if everything was right in her world, at that exact moment. And he could see why, especially when the dark-haired one leaned over and kissed her on the cheek for the camera.

“Well, look at that,” he said to himself. “Looks like she got herself a boyfriend.”

He went straight to his computer. The Twitter page was already up and logged in, because it was really the only thing he cared about these days. There was one of them that tweeted more than any of the rest of them, so he went to his page first – Lance Bass.

His profile picture showed exactly how proud of his new family he was – it was a picture of him and his son. And of course, he had already tweeted a picture of him and his wife, from backstage at the awards, looking the picture of perfection in her long purple gown with her blonde hair pulled back in an up-do.

“This woman made all the hard work from this week bearable. My @AddyB, such a beauty.”

He scrolled down by a few weeks until another picture caught his eye.

There she was, staring back at him – her hair a little blonder than before – standing next to the wife, each holding up a glass of wine.

“Night out with @AddyB and @melly82. Only girls I'll spend a girls night with! Eat your heart out @IamCKirkpatrick.”

Out of curiosity, he clicked on the link at the end of the tweet to bring up Chris's page. He smiled when the first thing he saw was the most recent tweet, from twenty minutes before.

“My knees hate me. But at least @melly82 loves me...and I love her.”

Seeing her a third time, in the picture that accompanied the post – Chris holding her close to him as he kissed her cheek and she ate up the attention for the camera – he was positive it was her.

He scrolled up to the top of the page, looking at Chris's profile information.

New York, NY.

“Gotcha,” he said to himself with a smile as he closed out the window.

Chapter 1 – Stranger That I Used To Know

March 6, 2014 – New York

It feels like ages since the house has been this quiet, Adeline thought as she carefully chopped pieces of fruit in the kitchen. The only sounds she could hear were the humming of the refrigerator, the rinse cycle running in the dishwasher, the TV in the living room playing toddler cartoons on low, and the sound of the knife as it connected with the wooden cutting board.

It won't stay this way for long, she thought with a smile.

It wasn't long before she heard tiny feet running down the hall, along with a bigger set of feet following quickly after. She sat down the knife in time for the tiny feet to turn the corner into the kitchen and run to her leg, wearing only a diaper with blonde hair dripping bath water.

She picked him up and cradled him on her hip, handing him a fresh sippy cup off the counter that he put in his mouth right away. Lance turned the corner into the kitchen barefoot, with wet spots on his gray t-shirt, holding a towel.

“He's too fast for me,” he said, handing off the towel to her. “He's like a rocket.”

“You hear that?” she asked the toddler, rubbing the towel over his wet hair. “You're making daddy an old man.”

“I barely got that diaper on, turned my back for a minute to grab the towel, and before I knew it, he shot off.”

“Yeah, yeah, old man,” she teased. “Excuses, excuses.”

“Keep talking,” he said. “But remember who turns 31 this year and still tells people she's 29.”

She turned to look at him, her expression tense, and pointed a warning finger at him. He simply smiled and walked over to her, grabbing the baby out of her arms and putting him in the highchair by the table.

She put a few pieces of the freshly cut fruit in a tiny plastic bowl and sat it in the tray of the highchair. She wiped the juices off her hands and went back to start chopping vegetables for lunch, but after a few minutes she looked over to see Lance sitting across from their son, picking up pieces and pretending to put them in his mouth. The baby reached out every time and flexed his hands in a 'gimme' motion, not wanting his snack stolen.

Every time she looked at the two of them together, she saw more of a resemblance. When he was born, Liam had a light dusting of dark hair that gradually turned a dark blonde over time. His dad's hair wasn't the only thing he had – he already had his dad's smile. But he had her cheeks, the chubby ones from her baby pictures that her dad always called her “chipmunk” cheeks because she had a tendency to hold her food in her cheeks as a toddler.

He grabbed another piece of fruit, but instead of reaching out for it, Liam started fussing.

“Don't tease him,” she said. “It's almost nap time and I don't want him too fussy.”

“Don't tease him,” Lance mocked. “You're not fussy, are you bubby? And if you are, well that's okay, because daddy is going to rehearsals in about...oh...” He held up his wrist to look at his watch. “...half an hour and mommy has to deal with nap time, doesn't she?”

Lance slid a piece of fruit into his son's mouth before he felt something hard hit the side of his face. He reached up to his cheek where it hit and looked down to see a cherry tomato on the floor next to him. He glanced over to Addy to see her hiding a smirk.

“You little...”

She squealed as he flew out of his seat towards her, wrapping an arm around her waist. She laughed and tried to duck out of his grasp as he dipped his fingers into the pot of sauce and reached to smear it on her cheek.

“Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with your food, Addy?” he asked with a smile as she fought against him.

She screamed and squealed with laughter as she tried to push him away, but her efforts proved useless when he brushed his hand over her cheek and down her chin, smearing her with the red pasta sauce.

He twirled her around as her laughter died down, leaning her back against the counter. She grimaced when he leaned down and licked the sauce off her cheek.

“Mmm, you taste pretty good now,” he said.

“Boys are so gross, get off me!” she said while smiling.

As she attempted to push him away, he only leaned in further to her, kissing the corner of her mouth.

“You're a bad influence on our son,” she said, grabbing for a dish towel to wipe sauce and saliva off her cheek.

“He runs around the house half-naked anyway, how much damage can I be doing?” he asked with a smile, lifting his fingertips to lick the extra sauce off.

“You put your fingers in my food,” she said. “Gross. Get out of my kitchen before you spread more cooties.”

“You like my cooties,” he said.

He tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her toward him, resting his nose on hers before leaning down to give her a kiss.

“Mmm, I guess maybe I do,” she said after he pulled away.

She wouldn't deny that the last fifteen months had been hard. After they had both almost died at the hands of her ex-husband and immediately had to jump into being parents without any recovery time from their horrific ordeal, there were moments that they had both wanted to give up. She took her husband's death more roughly than either of them had expected. She thought she had grieved after she had convinced herself that he had committed suicide; but after Mackenzie had shot him right in front of both of them, it hit her.

He really was dead.

She didn't know how to come to grips with it. There were other things that played into it – mental anguish from the stalking and the nine months she spent constantly anxious about her pregnancy; postpartum depression; and simply coming to terms with how drastically her life had changed in less than three years. It all built up – and eventually, they found themselves struggling with marriage problems of their own.

There was more than a few times that separation – and even divorce – was brought up. And it scared her.

But they had spent the last fifteen months fighting it. They had a long way to go – but she could smile and say that things were good now.

Maybe better than ever.

“I have to go to rehearsal,” he said. “I've got a long afternoon ahead of me.”

“Johnny's working you guys hard,” she stated.

“This is only a preview,” he said with a smile, saying goodbye to his son by brushing his hand across his cheek and ruffling his hair. “The real work is a week away. And you'd better prepare – he's going to work you just as hard.”

After the boys had decided to reunite and gone to their old manager, Johnny Wright, to get the ball rolling, Addy was surprised when one day, he called her into his office. The last thing she was expecting was to get offered a job.

The tour was so massive and going to be so highly-anticipated, he knew he couldn't do everything alone. After all, he had other acts to manage and other places to be. But he knew that the five men couldn't do it all on their own either – they needed someone to assist them, take care of their needs, and recognize when they could be pushed further or whether they had reached their emotional and physical limits. No one was better for that job than Addy – she knew Lance better than anyone, and was well on her way to knowing the other boys better than they knew themselves. Not to mention she was already loved as a member of their “crew” – and no one knew that better than Johnny.

And thus started her journey, no longer being Lance's personal assistant – instead being assistant to Johnny Wright and one of the biggest acts of the 90's...NSYNC.

“I know,” she said.

“You sure you don't want to back out?” he asked. “You sure you can handle all this?”

“You don't think I can?” she asked. “Three and a half years with you and you still don't have faith in my ability to handle the toughest jobs?”

“Three years ago, you thought I was a tough customer. You'll be dealing with me plus four more that are cut from the same cloth – on a cramped tour bus. Touring the entire United States. Sleeping on hotel beds and bunks on the road. Eating fast food nearly every night. Not to mention, you have to be a mom on top of it.”

“I can handle it,” she said with a smile. “I think you don't know me quite as well as you think you do.”

He smiled. “I guess we'll see.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It's perhaps the most highly-anticipated reunion tour since Led Zeppelin – at least for the world of pop music. Joining the ranks of fellow 90's acts Backstreet Boys and Spice Girls, it's finally happening...NSYNC's comeback “Take Back The Night” tour starts next week, kicking off in Brooklyn, New York, the home state of band members Chris Kirkpatrick, Joey Fatone, and Lance Bass. Folks, this will be a massive tour, covering 75 total cities over a seven-month span of time...let me stress that again. Seventy-five cities.”

“Because they're crazy,” Melissa said to herself, listening to the radio personality.

“I guess they didn't want to leave anyone out,” the female radio host said. “It's been ten years since the band has made a public appearance together. Maybe they figured they owe their fans?”

“Or maybe they're crazy.”

Melissa chuckled and shook her head.

“Seventy-five cities, can you imagine? I can't remember any reunion tour being so massive.”

“I guess you can say that when NSYNC reunites, it's go big or go home.”

Melissa scoffed. “Go big or go home” was exactly what had come out of Justin's mouth.

Six months ago, when the discussion of the band reuniting had been brought up, they all thought it would either be a one-off comment out of Justin's mouth after a night of drunken debauchery, or it would be a small twenty-something city tour to officially say goodbye, and the world would never hear from NSYNC again.

But when discussion had actually started between the guys, Addy and Melissa were surprised to find out that not only were they all serious about the reunion being a real reunion...they had no intentions of fooling around.

Of course, there had been loose ends to wrap up – Justin had a tour to finish out after the VMA reunion, Lance had a contract with the radio station until February that he had to finish out, and the rest of them all had lives and business commitments that prevented them from hopping onto a tour bus or getting in the studio the next night. But they had all been so excited to get back and finish their “unfinished” business with the band that they jumped right into the planning stages.

They were back in the studio together by that November. Addy and Melissa were there, and as shocked as anyone else was. Even more shocking was that Justin had encouraged the others to express their creativity on this new album – Chris had a couple of songs he had written, Lance helped with a few, and even Joey and JC had a few things to add. After a month of teaming up, hard work, and lots of spare time spent in the studio – a brand new NSYNC album was born.

They took a break for Christmas, but in January they were all back to rehearsing and planning for the tour, and now that they were a week away from the first tour date – March 14, 2014 in Brooklyn – everybody was still wondering how they had managed through the whirlwind past six months.

Her phone buzzed from the counter with a new text message.

Liam just tried to flush a remote down the toilet, the text read. Can't wait to be on a tour bus next week. Gee, what new adventures can a 15-month-old get into there? The next seven months should be interesting.

Melissa couldn't help but chuckle.

Has Lance pulled out the vodka yet? she typed. If not, he should. I'll warn JC to keep scissors off the buses. Don't want Justin to have to shave his head again. I'm excited!

She smiled and sat the phone down on the counter as she went back to peeling the apples she had in front of her. Chris would be home in a few hours from rehearsals and she knew the way to his heart – through his stomach. Homemade apple pie would do the trick.

She could hardly hold her excitement back. She knew for Addy it wasn't as big of a deal – after all, to her, it was work. She was going on the tour not because she was Lance's wife, but because she was Johnny's right-hand-man. She knew the guys the best out of anyone and could handle all their demands and needs on a lengthy and draining reunion tour. She was excited that it was something new, and it was such a huge event that so many people were looking forward to – but it was work, too.

For Mel, it was different. A couple of years ago, when she had moved to New York, she was only an NSYNC fan. Back then, it was only a dream that they'd ever get back together. Two years and some months later, all of a sudden she was going on tour with them. She'd gotten to witness the moment the “let's get back together” conversation had happened, back in August on the night of their big reunion. She had gotten to be in the studio when they recorded their new album; she even had a song written for her on it. Even though Lance had helped, she would always know that song as the one Chris had written for her.

She had gotten to experience so much that she had never even dreamed of. All of it was because of them – Chris, Lance, Addy, and the other boys. She was still a fan – maybe even more so now – but they were so much more than NSYNC now. They were friends; and she was so grateful to have such wonderful ones.

Her phone buzzed from the counter again, and she put down the half-peeled apple to pick it up.

Be excited for both of us. I'm more nervous – I can retrieve remotes from house toilets, but not bus toilets. Forget the vodka – pack the hard stuff.

She chuckled and pushed the button to reply when she heard the door in the living room open and shut quickly.

“Hey there,” she said out loud with a smile. “You're home early, babe. I was hoping to surprise you. I'm making your favorite, apple--”

She was cut off by a heavy, gloved hand wrapping around her head, clamping against her mouth. She shrieked when she felt the knife against her neck.

“Scream and it will be over before you can even blink.”

Tears immediately came to her eyes when she heard his voice.

Derek.

“You have no idea what I went through to find you, Melissa,” he said. “You've moved up in the world. Attending the Video Music Awards on the arm of a man like Chris Kirkpatrick. Imagine my surprise.”

She was holding back sobs when her phone buzzed from the counter again, and he reached over to pick it up.

“It's from Addy,” he said. “It says 'On second thought, pack the vodka too. A little in the sippy cup can't hurt. And maybe a little for mommy, too.' How are mommy and little Liam doing? Should we pay them a visit?”

She shut her eyes tightly and shook her head.

“That's what I thought,” he said. “Now, you're going to write a letter for poor Chris. And then you and I are going for a little ride...”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chris adjusted the heavy duffel bag over his shoulder as he stepped off the elevator on the floor of his and Mel's apartment building. He fought his eyes closing on their own, every part of his body screaming in pain.

If he didn't feel it before, at 42, it only took a round of rigorous rehearsals and getting back into the groove of choreographed dance moves to remind him – he was getting too old. He wasn't ready to cash in his senior citizen card yet, but he was no spring chicken. There were points during rehearsals that he questioned his sanity for agreeing to go back to touring with the guys. They had aged as well, like he had, but they were all still in their 30s. Justin kept active touring sporadically over the past ten years; Lance worked out and now he chased a toddler around the house, keeping him active. Joey traveled more than any of the rest of him, and JC...well no one knew what JC did besides be reclusive, but he was in better shape than Chris was, that was for sure.

But it had only taken him five minutes in the studio recording the new album to remind him why he was doing this.

It helped having a woman he loved in his life to keep him grounded during this time. Melissa – every time he thought of her and how happy she was that the guys were making new music and going back on tour, he smiled. Even though he was getting old and his body protested against him reliving his youth in this way, it was worth it – every night that he would come home and Mel would crack an old man joke while filling an ice pack and watching him collapse on the couch in pain...he realized this was why he was doing it.

He loved every minute of it – and he loved her.

He reached into his pocket as he closed in on his door, grabbing his keys and groaning in pain as he put it into the lock. It was past ten and he had no idea if Melissa would be awake or already in bed, but he intended to walk no further than the kitchen to find that ice pack, and then make his way to bed himself – and maybe not wake up until the tour was over.

“Melissa,” he called out as the door opened. He threw his bag down on the floor next to the door, not caring that it landed with a loud thud, and shut the door behind him. “The old man is home, and he's exhausted and sore. I need a medic.”

As he tossed his keys to the coffee table, he was met with only silence and the sound of the TV running – playing a late-night talk show.

“Nurse Ratched,” he said, teasing the name he called her when she was particularly rough in his post-rehearsal care. “Your favorite patient is calling for you.”

He was surprised when he didn't hear a single sound, except for Jimmy Fallon on the TV, interviewing some child actress.

“Where are you at?” he said softly to himself.

Wandering down the hallway to their bedroom, he walked into darkness and flipped on the light, expecting to see her laying passed out in the bed – but was shocked to see nothing. In fact, the bed was still made, completely untouched, not even a wrinkle in the bedspread.

He went through the entire house, first turning the corner to peek in the bathroom, then his music room, finally landing back in the living room with not a single sight of her. He walked into the only other room he knew she might be, the kitchen.

Silence met him at the threshold. The kitchen light was still on, the counter covered in dishes and food as if she had been cooking, and the oven turned on, light and all. But there was no Melissa.

He narrowed his eyebrows and took a few steps forward. It wasn't like Melissa to run out of the house and leave food on the counter, much less leave the oven on. It was when he reached the table that he caught sight of the small, pink slip of paper.

He immediately picked it up to read Melissa's handwritten message.

Chris,

I can't do this. I can't live in New York. I can't go on tour.

I can't be with you.

I've packed a few of my things. Get rid of the rest. I'm not coming back. I'm going home. Please, leave me alone; please don't try to find me.

I'm sorry.

Mel

Chapter 2 – Gone

He felt like his guts had been ripped out of his body.

“It doesn't make any sense,” Addy said, biting her thumbnail and staring down at the floor. “It just doesn't make any sense.”

“Ad, sit down,” Lance commanded. “Your pacing is making me dizzy.”

“I can't sit, Lance,” she said. “I can't sit and do nothing. I can't stop moving or I'll go crazy.”

“And you'll drag us all along with you,” Lance responded.

Chris sighed as he sat on his couch. Lance sat next to him, off to his right; JC sat off to his left. Joey sat in the recliner, while Justin was parked on the armrest of the couch directly next to Lance. And then there was Addy...pacing the living room floor, the picture of a nervous wreck.

“It doesn't make any sense,” she repeated. “Why would she leave? Not only leave period – but leave in the middle of baking a pie? She's a chef, for fuck's sake!”

“Addy,” Lance scolded. “You're driving me crazy. Dear God woman, sit down before I sedate you.”

She shot him a half-wounded look.

“Please,” he amended, lowering his voice. “Please sit down before I sedate you...honey.”

“Addy's right,” Joey said. “It doesn't make any sense. This isn't like Mel – not only leaving while in the middle of cooking, but leaving period. What would make her leave?”

“Mel loves pie, so that can't be it,” Justin responded.

Justin jumped when Lance reached over to smack him hard on the back of the head.

“Ow!” he said. “What? I'm trying to help this time, seriously!”

“I think what Justin's trying to say, in his own stupid, moronic, fucked up sense of trying to help,” JC said, “is that it's highly unlikely that Mel had some kind of epiphany while baking an apple pie that made her suddenly realize that she didn't want to be with Chris.”

“Yeah,” Justin said. “That's...sort of what I was trying to say. I think.”

“Mel wouldn't leave her stuff,” Addy said. “She wouldn't just pack enough to get her by for a while and leave the rest. That's not like her.”

“Addy...” Lance said softly. “She did it once before.”

“She was running,” Addy said, her tone sounding defensive. “She was running away. She was scared. I know you've never trusted her--”

“Excuse me,” Lance said, stopping her in her tracks. “But I love Mel just as much as you do. What happened between us is in the past. I care – so don't try to make me out to be the bad guy here.”

To all of their surprise, Lance stood from the couch, breezing past Addy and walking down Chris's hallway and into the music room, shutting the door behind him.

“He just...feels bad,” JC said, looking up at Addy. “Don't worry about it, Ad. He'll be fine.”

“I should go talk to him,” she said, giving the boys a brief look before walking down the hall to follow him.

“Everybody's on edge,” Chris said, and all of them turned to look at them since it was the first time he had spoken in several minutes. “This is not the way to start out a tour.”

“We can postpone the tour, Chris,” JC said. “The fans will understand.”

“We're not postponing the tour,” Chris responded.

“C's right,” Joey said. “The fans will understand. Hell, how long have they waited for this reunion? Another month or two won't hurt them.”

“We're not postponing the damn tour, alright?”

Everybody was surprised at Chris's angry tone.

“Chris is right,” Justin finally said. “Mel was a huge fan herself. She wouldn't want us to postpone the tour. It'd crush her.”

Everyone in the room nodded, not saying a word more. They didn't necessarily agree with Justin, but they knew it was best to go along with what Chris wanted.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Addy opened the door to Chris's music room, she was surprised to hear the soft plucking of guitar strings being played. She opened the door slowly and gently, taking two steps inside the room quietly before recognizing the tune being played.

“I know people make promises all the time, then they turn right around and break them,” he sang, seemingly oblivious to her presence with his back turned to her. “And someone cuts your heart open with a knife, now you're bleeding...”

“Lance, I'm sorry,” she said. “I'm frustrated, that's all. I know you care, and I wasn't trying to make you out to be the bad guy. You're not the bad guy. You'd bring Mel back here if you could.”

“He loves her,” he responded, silencing the vibrating strings with the palm of his hand. “I love her. And I know how he feels right now. I wish I could take it away for him. I keep thinking back to when you left me, and moved back to Los Angeles.”

They both paused, and he turned his head slightly.

“I wanted to die, Ad, because nothing else mattered,” he said. “Without you, I had nothing. When you left, you took my heart, my life, and my whole world with you. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I could barely function – because you were gone but in my mind, you were always there. You were...always there.”

“When I left, I didn't take your heart,” she said. “I left my heart with you. I was a zombie for a month. Stephanie had to come and stay with me like I was some damn invalid, Lance.”

“Why would she leave?” he said. “I thought she loved him. I thought...I thought at times, they were doing better than we were.”

She nodded, even though he had turned away from her. She had thought the same. Her and Lance had gone through too much over the past year, and there were so many times they both thought they were staring at the end of them. Meanwhile, Chris and Mel were always there for them as their best friends, and their relationship had flourished.

“I can't do it again, Ad,” Lance said, resting his face in his hands and running them harshly over his eyes. “I can't do this again – lose someone I love. I just...I...can't.”

She saw him break down as he sat the guitar down to the floor, and with tears in her eyes, she ran to him. Kneeling on her knees in front of him, he pulled her to him as she started to cry.

“You don't know what you've got until it's gone,” he said.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“There's a thousand words that I could say to make you come home, yeah...seems so long ago you walked away, and left me alone...”

The tears fell down Melissa's cheeks softly and quietly as she watched the trees and landscape pass by outside the window. She couldn't imagine how Chris was feeling at this moment.

“Was it something I said to make you turn away, to make you walk out and leave me cold? If I could just find a way to make it so that you were right here, right now...”

She had written the note with shaky hands. He had screamed at her the whole time to stop her quivering, but nothing in the world could stop the fear.

Someone would notice. Addy – she had an attention for details like that. Lance would notice that something important, something meaningful to Melissa hadn't been taken. Chris would know that Mel would never leave him by choice.

Wouldn't he?

“I've been sittin' here, can't get you off my mind, I'm tryin' my best to be a man and be strong...I've drove myself insane wishing I could touch your face. But the truth remains, you're gone...”

Derek had driven all night, on absolutely zero sleep. Just outside of Allentown, Pennsylvania, he had stopped at an all-night truck stop for a coffee. He had made her come in with him, and had made it clear what would happen to her if she tried anything “funny”.

And that was only the first time he had hit her. The first time, in a string of many to come, she was sure.

The sun had started to come up once they hit Roanoke, and it was then that she was able to catch her first glance in the mirror of herself. By then the bruise had started to turn purple. Luckily, her eye hadn't swollen shut this time.

She was exhausted, and her eyes wanted to close on their own – but she was too afraid to give in to sleep. Afraid of the darkness, afraid of where they were headed...afraid of what he would do to her now that he had her.

“The time is passing so slowly now...guess that's my life without you. And maybe I could change my every day, yeah, but baby I don't want to...”

They were now leaving Knoxville, and she finally realized where they were headed – back home to Arkansas. Already she missed New York.

And what she'd left behind there.

“Quit your cryin',” he said from the driver's seat of the truck. “It's a song. He never wanted you.”

She didn't say anything; instead, she only softened her sniffles to near-silence, wiping away a few tears conspicuously. She didn't want to believe what he said – that Chris never wanted her. A part of him must have, since he was with her for over a year. But with Derek, it was hard to shut off that part in her brain, that voice in her head that told her that he was right.

“It's tearin' up my heart, when I'm with you...”

He groaned. “I hate this song,” he said, reaching over to press the button. “It's so overplayed.”

She watched as he pressed the button on the dashboard, switching the Greatest Hits CD to the next song, tears coming to her eyes again as she heard the melody.

“Lying in your arms, so close together...didn't know just what I had...”

She bit her lip, fighting tears as she heard the voice – the voice that she would stay up so many nights listening as he sang and played the guitar, in his own universe in his head.

“Now I toss and turn, 'cause I'm without you, how I'm missing you so bad...”

“I'll bet he is,” Derek said, glancing over at her with a smirk on his face. “Poor Chris. Now he'll have to move on to some other bleach blonde bimbo who wants him for his money.”

She closed her eyes, exhaling a breath as she watched the skies of Tennessee pass her by. She hoped, in a way, that he did move on – even if it hurt her to think about it.

“Where was my head, where was my heart? Now I cry alone in the dark...”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Addy, Lance. What a surprise. It's good to see you.”

Lance's head snapped up from the chair in the lobby of the 88th precinct.

“Is that Liam?” Detective Abrams asked, looking at the squirming child in Addy's arms.

She only smiled in response.

“That's him,” Lance said. “We're looking for a buyer, but the economy's rough, you know...”

Abrams chuckled. “He's gotten so big. But I guess that tends to happen when you don't see someone for a year, huh?”

“Yeah, that does tend to happen,” Lance said.

Abrams narrowed his eyes, noticing the demeanor of both of them.

“Why the long faces?” he asked. “Is something wrong that I can help you with?”

“Actually, there is,” Addy said.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, she disappeared? Randomly?”

“Yeah,” Lance responded.

“No warning, no notice,” Addy said, glancing over at her side to keep a close eye on Liam, who sat on the floor chewing on the arm of his sock monkey.

“Did she leave a note?” Abrams asked.

“Vague,” Lance responded, producing the note from his jacket pocket and handing it over. “Saying she couldn't do it and she was going home. What does that mean?”

Abrams glanced over the note for a moment.

“Well, I'm just a detective, and I only have twenty years of experience in law enforcement, so I can only take an uneducated guess,” he said. “But I would say that means...she's going home.”

Lance sighed.

“Guys...I'm not missing persons,” Abrams said, looking at both of them. “The sad fact is...Melissa is an adult, in her 30s. Once they reach that age, unfortunately, they can do what they want. I know it sucks. I know you are both hurting right now; I know Chris is hurting. But Lance, if you were standing here in front of me telling me that Addy had packed up Liam and her stuff and taken off in the middle of the night without telling you where she was going...I'd be saying the same thing.”

He paused, watching both of their faces fall.

“You've all had a rough couple of years,” he continued. “Addy, you went through a divorce. A rough pregnancy. You guys had the ordeal with your exes. You became parents. Mel and Lance lived through a fire. Now you guys are going on an insane, cross-country tour for the first time in ten years. Half that is too much stress for any normal person to bear...you guys have to deal with all of that. Mel is no different. She's probably been stressed. It got to be too much. Running away was the solution. You're lucky that she left a note so you would at least know.”

“I don't believe for one second that she ran away,” Addy said. “Not on her own accord. All due respect, Joe, Mel was happy. She wasn't stressed about the tour; she was excited. She's been a fan since she was a teenager. This was the best thing that had happened to her in years, aside from Chris. She wouldn't miss this for the world – and she wouldn't run away from us, her best friends, because she was stressed. She would come to us...she would come to me.”

Abrams sighed.

“I got the kid in handwriting analysis tickets to some rock concert in the Bronx last summer,” he said. “For free, for him and his buddies. He owes me a favor. Bring me a normal sample of Melissa's handwriting. The note might tell us something. I'll have him take a look at them, see what he can come up with. I can't promise anything.”

“Thank you so much, Joe,” Addy said.

“I wish I could do more, Addy,” he responded. “I really do.”

Lance followed his wife's lead, standing up to shake the detective's hand and thank him, leaning down to pick up his son off the floor and cradle him on his hip. It was something, and he was grateful for the help from his detective acquaintance. After all, he was right; he wasn't a missing persons detective, and he didn't have to call in a favor, and his hands were pretty effectively tied by the circumstances. He had done a lot for the two of them already, saving their lives and all.

But it wasn't enough. And it wouldn't ever be enough until he found out why Mel left...and got her back safe.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I'm sure he'll be here.”

Justin stared at JC and Wade, watching JC tap his foot nervously and Wade run his fingers over his goatee.

“Give him like, ten minutes,” Justin said, shifting his stare to the door of the rehearsal room. “Lance will be here. I mean, he's married now, right? Addy probably had to change her dress because she thought she looked fat. Or she had to put all her makeup back on because she thought she didn't look pretty enough. Women, right?” he said with a scoff.

JC cut his eyes to Justin, giving him a downwards look.

“I know, shut up Justin,” he said, sighing to himself.

“Rehearsals were supposed to start twenty minutes ago and we have three-fifths of NSYNC here,” Wade said. Then he looked around. “Two-fifths – where the fuck did Joey go?”

JC and Justin shrugged.

“Look guys, I know it's been a rough week. We're rehearsing hard. You guys are older – you're tired, you're sore, you're worn out. You guys have wives and families now, to top it off, that you want to spend time with. And your friend...”

Wade paused.

“But, the tour starts in seven days. Those people, those fans, have been looking forward to this for ten years. They paid to see NSYNC, and they paid good money – go big or go home, remember? Wasn't that your idea, Justin?”

Justin nodded slightly.

“Some members of this group are taking 'go home' a little too literally,” Wade said. “If Joey, Lance and Chris aren't here in ten minutes...”

“Jus'in! Jus'in!”

Justin and JC's heads popped up when Lance walked through the door at that moment, his duffel bag flung over his shoulder, Addy following him, Liam running to Justin.

“Hey buddy,” Justin said, picking the boy up in his arms.

“About damn time,” Wade said.

“Lance, where have you been?” JC asked. “Rehearsals started almost half an hour ago.”

“We had to go see Abrams,” Addy said, watching Lance stalk off towards the benches next to the mirrors and set his bag down, pulling his sweatshirt off and stuffing it in. “We hit traffic on the bridge. There was like a five car pile-up or something.”

“Sounds about like this tour,” Wade said, walking towards the middle of the room.

“Hey Wade, you got something to say to me?” Lance said, turning around and throwing his arms up in the air. “Say it to my face instead of mumbling it behind my back.”

“Just that you're late,” Wade said. “A watch – ever heard of it?”

“Wade, we're sorry,” Addy said.

“No, Ad, we're not,” Lance said, holding his hand up to stop her. “We're late, but we're here. If Wade can't accept that, he can cancel rehearsal and leave.”

“Lance, don't do this,” Addy said.

“Do yourself a favor, Bass,” Wade said, staring deeply at Lance. “Listen to your wife.”

Addy could see it coming by the look in her husband's eyes; JC could feel the tension in the room. So neither were surprised when Lance lunged toward Wade, shoving him up against the mirrored wall.

“Fuck off, Robson,” he said. “Let's see how well you can dance after I kick your ass.”

“Alright, boys,” Addy said, her and JC immediately rushing to the scene, pulling Lance away as JC held Wade back. “Let's go to our own corners and have a time out. I don't think anybody wants to perform with a black eye or a broken nose, okay?”

She watched Lance grit his teeth, only walking away from them and out the rehearsal door. Wade watched after him, but quickly shoved past JC and walked toward the corner of the rehearsal room, toward his own duffel bag.

“That was a close call,” JC said to Addy, exhaling a breath. “Last time I saw Lance that pissed was when he ripped up that check in front of Pearlman. I really thought he was gonna kick Wade's ass that time.”

“He's...” Addy only sighed. “Just give him a few minutes to himself. Where's Joey and Chris?”

“Joey needed a few minutes to himself, too,” JC responded. “Chris...” He paused, sighing. “...is out on his motorcycle. Looking for Mel.”

“He doesn't even intend to come today, does he?” she asked.

JC only shook his head from side to side.

Addy sighed. “This tour is falling apart before it's even started, Jace.” Instinctively, she reached for her hand and twirled her wedding ring around her finger. “God help us all through the next seven months.”

Chapter 3 – Promises

March 14, 2014 – Brooklyn, NY

“Oh my God...Nelly?!”

Adeline's jaw dropped. She had just finished screaming at Justin, threatening him that he had five minutes to stop bouncing the basketball around the quick change room and get ready or she would stick him to the Velcro wall on the “Up Against The Wall” props. She had adjusted her headset in her ear, and looked up across the room...only to see Nelly.

“Unless you know some other famous rap star that looks like him, yeah, that's him,” Lance said, stuffing his street clothes into his bag.

“What the hell is Nelly doing here?” she asked.

“He's performing 'Girlfriend' with us, in Brooklyn only,” he said. “Kind of a kick-off.”

“Since when?” she said. “And why didn't I know about this?”

“Since a couple months ago, when we asked him and he said yes,” he responded. “And I don't know, Ad. Maybe you weren't paying close enough attention.”

She knit her eyebrows together towards him as he walked off. She sighed; he'd been like this all week, giving her attitude every time she turned around. She tried not to hold it against him, because it hadn't been the easiest week. Since his blow-up fight with Wade, rehearsals hadn't been good for him. Wade didn't intentionally start drama with Lance, but he had spent all week breathing down his back over his dancing, his lack of focus, and telling him he didn't think he was committed enough.

She knew better. She knew exactly how committed he was; this tour, this reunion...meant the world to him. She was a lover and not a fighter, but every time Wade jumped down Lance's throat for missing a beat or messing up a step, she wanted to punch him. Or if it was the mother side of her coming out, she wanted to walk over and grab him by his ear and make him sit in the corner, giving him a lecture about treating people how he wanted to be treated.

Lance had been moody, yes, but he was committed. The problem was that he missed his best friend. Melissa was like a sister to him. Chris hurt because he loved Melissa as his girlfriend; but Lance hurt in his own way, feeling like one of his own family had disappeared off the face of the planet.

She had learned to give Lance his space, and try to be understanding. He was aware he needed an attitude adjustment; but the pain he was feeling stopped him from caring.

“Hey, Ad,” Justin said, walking up to her. “You seen my shirt anywhere?”

She rolled her eyes, huffing a breath. “No Justin, I haven't seen your shirt. I'm an assistant, not your mom. Try keeping track of your shit and getting ready before the last minute next time.”

Justin's eyes widened. “Damn, girl, I was just asking. Sorry. Who pissed in your coffee this morning and tried to call it milk?”

“Sorry, Justin,” she said. “I'm...frustrated.”

Frustrated wasn't the word.

“Guess I need an attitude adjustment too,” she said, both of them looking on as Lance breezed past them.

“He's still grouchy, huh?”

“I wasn't thinking grouchy,” she said, turning around to start picking up a pile of clothes that the boys had randomly discarded on a chair. “I was thinking...testy, grumbly, snappy, surly, peeved, sulky, maybe a little cantankerous.”

“Bored and reading the thesaurus again?” he said with a smile. “You know, we can give you more work to do.”

“If his attitude doesn't get better, I'm going to start bunking with you,” she said. “I'm trying to be understanding, I really am, and I love him. But Justin, I think before the tour is over...I might kill him.”

Justin chuckled. As he was turning away, Nelly walked up to him, and he greeted him with a slap of the hands.

“Hey Ad, have you met Nelly?”

She turned, her arms full of clothes that needed taken back to wardrobe, a stray piece of hair getting in her eyes, staring wide-eyed at the man in front of her. She blew out a breath, trying to push the hair away from her face, but it only fell back down, distracting her even more.

“Nelly,” she said.

Justin laughed. “This is a first. Addy's starstruck.”

“Shut up, Justin,” she said. She reached out with one hand, fighting the pile of clothes in her arms to shake the man's hand.

Nelly smiled as he shook her hand, her laughing nervously as shirts and pants dropped out of her arms.

“Sorry,” she said. “This is my glamorous life, right here.”

“You must be the assistant I hear so much about,” Nelly said, and she could hear his recognizable accent. “Lance's wife?”

“Addy James, this is her,” Justin said.

“Let me help ya there,” Nelly said, smiling as he used a finger to push the hair out of her eyes and behind her ear.

“Thank you,” she said. “I better get these back to wardrobe before Penny has an absolute heart attack.”

“Need any help, darlin'?” Justin asked.

She smiled; it was rare for any of them to call her anything but Ad or Addy, but sometimes the occasional term of endearment would slip out – babe, dear, honey, or darlin', in Justin's case.

“Could you?” she asked. “Please?”

“You know it,” he responded. “But maybe you could help me find my shirt?”

She chuckled, rolling her eyes then sighing. “Fiiiine. Come on.”

“See ya man,” Justin said to Nelly, slapping hands again.

“See ya on stage later,” Nelly responded. “And hey, Addy – good to meet you.”

“Good to meet you too,” she said, smiling.

She could feel her cheeks start to warm up as the man walked away, and Justin started taking clothes from her until they each had a smaller pile.

“You know,” he said, “far be it from me to tell you how to run your marriage and all...but if I were you, Ad, I wouldn't let Lance see you blushing like that. At least not around world-famous rap stars. He might...I don't know, take it the wrong way.”

She looked up at him.

“Just a suggestion,” he said, his look serious.

“It's not...I mean, I wasn't...”

She struggled to come up with words.

“I know you weren't,” he said, smiling slightly. “Nelly, he's kind of a flirt. You know, like Joey. He does it naturally, and he means nothing by it, and it makes women melt. You're not the only one. Watch it, okay? It'd be bad if he saw something and took it the wrong way and it ended up hurting both of you.”

She nodded, pausing before she walked away with him toward the wardrobe room. Her eyes wandered to Lance as he walked past them, finally in his first clothing change for the show. She took Justin's words to heart – the last thing she needed was to add insecurity and jealousy to their problems.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What's up, Brooklyn?!”

Justin stared out into the crowd, taking in the sight of the thousands of people in Barclay's Center. He smiled at Joey's enthusiasm when he screamed out the greeting that he used at almost every NSYNC show, laughing when the crowd went wild.

He looked to his left, seeing Lance and JC – both smiling, taking in the crowd and the screams. He looked to his right, seeing Chris and Joey do the same thing. If he had been told a year ago that he would be on this stage – not by himself, with his band and his dancers, his crew of Tennessee Kids, singing his songs – he'd have thought whoever told him that was insane.

It was an urge that had snuck up on him unexpectedly. He didn't think any of them would ever go for it when he brought it to the table that night in August. JC hadn't sang in years and preferred the writing and producing side of it, and when confronted, never seemed to want to touch the subject of an NSYNC reunion with a ten-foot pole.

Joey liked traveling and doing unique things – whether it was hosting shows in Vegas, doing voice-overs for TV game shows, competitively dancing on reality shows, or starting his own cooking show – and hadn't been involved in music in years either.

Lance had immersed himself in various movies, charity, and humanitarian things – before finally meeting Addy, getting married, and having his son. And Chris was happy to live a simple life in New York, playing with his band, Nigels 11, and living a normal existence mostly out of the spotlight.

And now, here they were – he was back on stage, staring at his NSYNC brothers again.

The band behind them started playing as the lights dimmed, and he could feel the rush of the performance coming back to him.

“Keeps coming closer, I don't, but she thinks that I know her...”

He was never more glad that some of the pressure of being the creative genius was off of him this time around. Something about getting back together with them this time was different – he wanted to give away some of the spotlight. He wanted to show the world that he wasn't the only talented one; that each and every one of them had their own talents as well.

“Beautiful smile with those sad eyes, that was my type...amnesia, that's over...I can see your breathing, girl, is colder, I can see you need me but I don't care...my whole memory of me and love, gone so far from me girl, it's not fair...”

For example, so far, he had been amazed by Lance's songwriting skills. It was something he never knew he had, because he never showed it. When Chris had come to him with the rough copy of his song, “Not A Bad Thing”, Justin's jaw almost dropped to the floor when he told him that Lance had written about half the song. Justin never would have guessed it if Chris hadn't told him.

“I could feel it almost start to change...But then it hurts too much, that's when it starts to fade away...”

He would never forget the look on Lance's face when he had come to his house one day, threw a notebook and pen in front of him on the table, and commanded Lance to write him a song – any song. He had only laughed when Lance had stared at him and told him that drugs were bad and he shouldn't do them – but smiled and told him to evoke a memory, an emotion, a time in his life that was particularly rough for him...and write him a powerful song. And he wanted it in two days.

And “Amnesia” was born.

Not all of the lyrics were Lance's, of course – Justin had thrown in a few of the beginning lyrics to lead them in, and he had come up with the whole amnesia angle so it would have a common theme. But a lot of it was Lance; all of Lance's emotions and feelings about various things that had happened to him over the past couple of years.

It had been such a successful experiment that he had done the same thing with Joey the very next week. They got “Only When I Walk Away” out of that experiment, even though it took a bit of prodding by Justin. JC had teamed up with the two of them to add the sexy, sultry beat behind it. Getting JC back in the studio behind a keyboard was all it took to get his creative juices flowing, and to Justin's chagrin, a week later he had a rough copy of “TKO” in his hands.

Agreeing that they needed at least one upbeat dance number for the album, much like “Bye Bye Bye” had been, they had all teamed up one day over a few beers and wrote “Take Back The Night”. They had put together their feelings about the night they had reunited in August, thrown a slight love twist on the words to make it relatable, and before they knew it, they agreed that they had gold.

They were so happy with it that they all knew they had to name their tour after it. After all, they were taking back their place in pop music – taking back their night.

It didn't take long after that before the songs started trickling in and they had a full album. “Gimme What I Don't Know” was JC's creation. Justin was inspired himself to write “Murder” and “You Got It On”, and Chris rounded it all out with “Drink You Away” towards the end.

He had never been more proud of an album – especially an NSYNC album.

“Go on and tear me apart, and do it again tomorrow...I almost forgot who you are...”

But now he looked at his brothers and saw their distress. Now, he saw life imitating art – and it seemed a good majority of the songs that they had written about their life's most stressful situations, they were now reliving in more ways than one.

“I try to forget about it every time I see ya, see ya...thought I could do without it, now I know I need ya, need ya...this is turning into some kinda kinda amnesia, I need ya...memories fade away, love is so insane...”

He looked to his left, seeing Lance again, seeing him singing his heart out, knowing that no one could pick out his bass voice in the background but knowing it didn't matter. He didn't know the details because neither of them let them slip – but he knew that Addy and Lance weren't as happy as they had once been. They loved each other and wanted to make it work, but something came between them that they couldn't seem to get past as hard as they tried. They fought like hell for their son, because both of them wanted him to grow up in a stable, warm home with both of his parents around.

“I try to forget about it every time I see ya, see ya...thought I could do without it, now I know I need ya, need ya...this is turning into some kinda kinda amnesia, I need ya...memories fade away, love is so insane...”

Then, looking to his right again, he saw Chris. He was singing his heart out – what he had left of it. Justin hadn't known Mel as long as Chris, Lance, and Addy had, but he had spent a good amount of time the past two years in New York, always staying with one of them while he was there. He had been around long enough to kindle a friendship with Mel. Over the past week, he had tried to get into her head to dissect her thought process – the moment she had stopped baking and decided to leave, while she packed up the single suitcase with the very few clothes that Chris had found missing, and the moment she stood at the table and wrote out the worst Dear John letter he had ever seen.

He couldn't. He had joked that day while sitting around with the rest of them, trying to lighten the mood in the room, but he was as clueless and bothered as the rest of them were. And he wouldn't admit it, but he hurt.

He knew that if he hurt as much as he did – he couldn't have a clue how Chris felt.

He didn't know how Chris was still standing strong.

“So tear me apart, and do it again tomorrow...I almost forgot who we are...I'll let you drive me crazy for another day...Isn't this love insane, insane?”

The show would end tonight, and each of the fans would walk out of Barclay Center fulfilled, having finally seen their dream come true – NSYNC reuniting.

The boys would walk out of the Barclay Center heartbroken, as they had been yesterday and the day before that. And they would go back and do it again tomorrow, because they had no other choice.

Not without Mel.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This was the part of the show that Chris had dreaded all night.

“Here you go, honey,” Addy said, handing him a towel to wipe the sweat from his face and a bottle of water to take a sip of, before handing Lance the same thing.

“Thanks, Ad,” he said.

He walked away without a word, even as she stayed in her place to talk to Lance. He thought he wouldn't have much time to think about anything tonight, keeping himself too busy performing while trying to remember all his dance steps and the lyrics to the new songs, but he had been wrong.

He had thought about it all night.

The guys didn't give him much grief about it – Wade had given him grief about missing a couple of days of rehearsals during the last week, but from what he had heard, there had been a tense confrontation between Wade and Lance that had knocked Wade down a few notches. Since then, he had made his way through rehearsals and the first concert the only way he knew how – by being a zombie.

He ran the towel over his face once more before throwing it down on the bench in front of him. He pulled on his shirt and lifted it over his shoulders, exposing his chest for only a few seconds before grabbing for the costume change that Addy had laid out for him a few minutes before. In record time, he was changed into his next “costume” and followed the others, going back out on stage.

He found his seat on the stool in the center of the stage, off to Justin's right. Lance sat down next to him on his own right, before Justin found his way to his stool, and both of them glanced over at him.

This would be the hardest part of the show to do.

The lights that hid the five of them went up, and he could hear Justin doing a brief intro to the song after the girls' screams had died down. As the band behind them started playing, he took a deep breath.

“Girl you hurt me, when you left me, tell me where did you go? The time is passing, I'm realizing, that babe I needed you so...”

He officially hated this song.

“Was it something I said, to make you turn away? To make you walk out and leave me cold?”

He was on autopilot – thankful for once that Justin had all the attention.

“If I could just find a way to make it so that you were right here, right now...”

He had spent the past week searching for her. He had gone out on his bike several times during the day, and almost every night, covering every inch of New York City and Brooklyn that he thought she might go. He had searched every night club within a 25-mile radius of his apartment, every one they had stepped into over the last year. He had spent hours in her favorite coffee shop, waiting and hoping that she would show up for her usual order. He had even sat in his car at the ICE campus, in case there was a chance she showed up – even though she had graduated months before.

He hadn't been home in a week. He slept in his car, or fell asleep at Lance and Addy's house...when he was able to sleep. That was only when his body completely shut down on him.

He couldn't accept it. He couldn't figure out what had happened, what had possessed her, what had caused her to leave. What did he do? What didn't he do? What did he say? Was it something he didn't say? Was he not good enough for her?

“I've been sittin' here, can't get you off my mind, I've tried my best to be a man and be strong...I've drove myself insane, wishin' I could touch your face...”

He couldn't accept the fact that she was truly...

“But the truth remains, you're...”

Gone.

He heard the screams and the chaos as Nelly took the stage, and he followed the others' lead as they moved into their places on the stage, but he himself was a zombie.

“Uh, uh, uh, check it...”

He couldn't see the audience from his place on the stage, hidden by the classic car setup that they had resurrected from their Grammy performance, but he could hear the audience go crazy as Nelly took the stage.

“He don't want you like I want you, believe me boo I been told, he don't appreciate you ma, I can tell by the way he hold you, he don't love you like I love you or squeeze you like I squeeze, I'll make your neck pop back and in fact I'll buckle your knees...hey! Okay, baby, what's it gon' take for you to be my lady...”

He heard Justin break in with his single line of the song, even though the crowd still couldn't see them from behind their setup, where they were waiting for the lifts to raise them up to the roofs of the cars.

“I'm diggin' everything about you, your hips an' the way they sway, I hate to see you leave but love to see ya walk away, I'll be your personal shrink boo, I care what you think, I bought the Bentley in pink 'cause my dough in sync...”

He was waiting for his cue. It was all he could do now – wait for his cues, sing his lines, hit his steps perfectly, and get through this reunion and this tour as well as he knew how.

“So tell ya man bye bye and tell 'im you're long gone...ain't no need waitin' up, you done found you another home...”

“I don't know why you care...”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“We rocked the shit outta that place!”

Addy smiled, watching the five boys run back stage to her, handing out a towel to each of them as they came close to her. She could tell they were tired – each of them were breathing heavily, the huffs audible, but the smiles they had on their faces said it all.

Their first concert had been a success.

“Language, Justin,” she scolded softly. “We have little ears on this tour, we need to get used to keeping it clean.”

“Aww he ain't here, Ad,” Justin said, pulling the headset off his ears. He ran the towel over his face. “He's with the nanny girl – what's her name again?”

“Jessica.”

“Yeah, Jessica,” he said. “He's with Jessica. He's probably fast asleep in the hotel room, drunk off Teddy Grahams and chocolate milk watching Blue's Clues or some shit like that.”

“I know I'm almost forty, but that sounds like Heaven right about now,” Joey said.

“Yeah, except with you it's pepperoni pizza, vodka, and pay-per-view porn,” JC responded, wiping his own face down.

“Po-tay-to, po-taw-to,” Joey said. “Blue's Clues, Girls Gone Wild...I'll settle for either.”

Justin handed his towel over to Addy, who took it with a turned up nose.

“Gross,” she said, looking at the sweat-covered fabric.

“I don't care if fucking Barney is playing in my hotel room when I get there,” Lance said. “I'll be asleep before Steve finds his first clue.”

“Ditto,” Addy said, throwing the sweaty towel in the hamper for wardrobe. “Hurry up and get changed, guys. We all need a good night's sleep at the hotel. Tomorrow it's Manhattan and Madison Square Garden.”

They nodded and groaned as they all handed over their towels to her, some of them pulling their shirts over their head as they walked past her in an effort to change back into their street clothes faster, wanting to get to the hotel as quickly as possible after a long night. Chris was the last to walk up to her, slowly wiping his face with his towel.

“You okay?” she asked.

He nodded slightly, handing over his towel.

“It was a good show,” he said. “She would have loved it.”

“We'll find her soon, Chris,” she said. “She'll come back. I know she will. I promise.”

“Don't make promises you know you can't keep, Addy,” he said, sighing as he walked away.

Chapter 4 – By The Grace Of God

“Downbeat on the night, Christopher!”

Addy could hear the scream before she ever opened the large push doors to walk into the backstage area of Madison Square Garden. The boys had taken a separate bus on the short trek to Manhattan, and Addy had followed just an hour later with Liam, driving over with Johnny after the two of them had a short meeting with each other. She had dropped Liam off with Jessica, the nanny, at the hotel and driven here wondering what she would walk into.

Wade was in another mood – which meant that he would take it out on the boys. Which meant that the boys would be in a mood too.

“Stop, stop, stop, stop, just...stop!” Wade screamed as she had opened the door and made her way towards the stage where she could see them gathered. Their lips were all pursed. None of them were happy.

She watched Wade close his eyes and rub his temple between his fingers roughly.

“That was atrocious,” he said. “Chris, you're two beats off on the whole thing. Justin, you're staring off into space. JC, you look like a monkey dancing on crack. And Lance...I can't even list all the things you did wrong.”

She stopped short, careful to stay out of the warpath, and watched Lance stretch his arms over his head.

“Why not, Wade?” he said. “You haven't seemed to have a problem with it all week long, why stop now?”

She had to hold back a smile – Lance had changed a lot over the few years she had known him, but the smart ass attitude was one thing that remained constant.

“Am I wrong that this tour was supposed to be the 'Take Back The Night' tour?” Wade asked, ignoring him. “The only thing you guys are doing is taking pop music back about a thousand years.”

“Exactly what crawled up your ass, died, rotted, and started eating you out from the inside, Wade?” Justin asked.

Adeline couldn't stop the audible chuckle from escaping her lips, and she was shocked when Wade looked at her.

“Is something funny to you?” he asked her.

“The eating you out from the inside part was pretty funny,” she responded with a smile.

Wade chuckled, but she could tell he was unamused. “You're late.”

“I had a meeting,” she responded. “With Johnny – our boss, if you remember correctly. I also have a son that I had to drop off with the nanny.”

“Oh yeah, the son,” Wade said. “I forgot. So glad we could bring the brat along for the ride this time. Because we don't have enough distractions already.”

Addy and Lance exchanged a glance with each other.

“Do I need my ears cleaned or did you just call my kid a brat?” Lance asked.

“You have a problem with that?” Wade asked.

“Yeah, I think I do,” Lance said, taking a step forward.

“Let's take it down a notch, guys,” JC said, his hands up in warning. “We're tired but let's just pull it together and try to do a little better. And Wade, cool your jets and give us a break, we're trying our best.”

“Yeah, come on,” Justin said. “Let's not make this personal, okay?”

“Take five guys,” Addy said. “Cool down, grab a drink, let everybody chill, and then get back to it. Unless Wade thinks that five minutes will be the downfall of the entire tour?”

As she gave him a look that could kill, Addy could tell that Wade was displeased at her – but she was satisfied when he walked away from the stage without another word. She saw the breath that each of them sighed as they walked toward her.

“Well you're officially on his shit list,” Lance said. “Welcome to the club, baby. Glad you could join us – Chris and I were getting lonely.”

“Fuck,” Justin said, grabbing a bottle of water and downing almost a quarter of it in one drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What is Wade's damage?”

“He didn't used to be like this,” Lance said with a shake of his head, grabbing his own water out of Addy's bag to sip. “Wade used to be...”

“Cool?” Chris asked.

“Who knows,” Addy said with a shrug. “All I know is that Johnny explicitly stated that part of my job was to recognize when the five of you were about to reach your physical and mental limits. I have a feeling that someone is at their limit, and if I didn't step in, heads would have rolled.”

“Heads will roll all right,” Lance said. “If he doesn't stop treating you like the dirt under his feet, his head will roll under the stage and never be found.”

“Tell us all how you really feel, Lancey-poo,” Justin said with a smile.

She smiled, but unfortunately, she knew that Justin was right. All the time she had been with Lance, she had come to know him as a gentleman underneath the smart attitude – he rarely used the threat of physical violence against anyone. It was a sign that he was reaching his limit – a dangerous sign. If something didn't happen to change Wade's attitude soon, she had a feeling something bad would happen.

The boys took ten minutes backstage just to breathe, relax, collect their emotions, and have the opportunity to chill down. Addy then ushered them back to the stage, reminding them all that they had a job to do, even if they were reluctant to go back to working with Wade.

She watched them groan despite walking back to their places, smiling. When her phone rang from her pocket, she reached for it.

“Hello?”

“Addy, it's Jessie,” the young girl's voice came from the other end. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, Jessie, not at all,” she said, briefly glancing back at the boys. “Is something wrong?”

“Well, I don't think it's serious or anything,” Jessica said. “But I was trying to feed Liam and I think he might be coming down with a little something.”

“What do you mean, a little something?” Addy asked.

“Well, I was trying to feed him carrots before his nap. He loves carrots – so it was kind of odd when he wouldn't eat for me. He kept pushing the food away. Then I noticed he looked tired and he kept rubbing his eyes, so I thought maybe he was just tired. But then I felt him and he felt a little warm, so I took his temperature. It's a little high – nothing to be too concerned about, but it's 99.3.”

“Is he throwing up?” she asked.

“No, nothing like that,” Jessie said. “I just thought you might want to know.”

“I appreciate the call,” Addy said. “Do I need to come back to the hotel?”

“I don't think so, but I'll keep an eye on him,” she responded. “I gave him a dose of baby Tylenol and laid him down for a nap, but I'll keep you posted and call you if it gets any higher. So just make sure to have your phone on you, if that's okay.”

“Absolutely,” Addy responded. “Always.”

“Thanks, Addy,” Jessie responded.

She hung up the phone just as Johnny came through, walking up next to her.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

“Jessie just called,” she said. “Liam has a bit of a fever.”

“Anything you need to go take care of?” he asked.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I think she can handle it. I mean, she's the nanny, right? That's why you hired her, to take care of Liam when I'm gone, and Joey's kids when they travel with us. She can handle it.”

He smiled. “Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”

“Is it that obvious?” she asked.

“Adeline, I've been around you long enough to notice when you're nervous or worried – which is almost always,” he said with a chuckle. “If you feel like you need to go, feel free to go, Wade and I can handle the boys for now. But...I think Liam will be just fine. Jessie is a career nanny – she's not some sixteen-year-old babysitting for some summer money. She's taken care of a lot of celebrity children. I think a little fever is something she can handle.”

Adeline let out a sigh. It was hard to let go; her worries about her son's safety didn't stop at pregnancy and the moment she gave birth to him. She constantly worried that something would happen to him, something bad, and being on a tour was enough to send her into overdrive about any little thing. She had somehow convinced herself over the years that she was cursed, and she was trying to let that go.

“You're right,” she said. “I should at least go tell Lance, though.”

“Go right ahead,” Johnny said, motioning towards the stage. “I'm sure Wade won't mind the interruption.”

I'm not so sure about that, she thought to herself as she started walking off toward them.

The group had switched focus from rehearsing the new dance steps to “Take Back The Night” to refreshing themselves on the routine for “The Game Is Over”. They had brought back so many of the fan-favorite routines to mix in with their new stuff, knowing that they had to make this tour one to remember. They wanted to make it one for the books. They were getting older, and as hard as it was to admit, it wasn't as easy to put on a full, no-holds-barred concert like they used to. They were grown up, had families and other life's work – this could be the last tour they ever did.

“You're a little heavy on the downbeat, JC,” Wade said. “Lance, you're off about half a step, let's pick up the pace a little.”

Relieved that Wade's tone of voice seemed to have calmed slightly, Adeline still approached cautiously.

“Wade, sorry to interrupt,” she said. “Can I speak to Lance a moment?”

“Make it quick,” he said, sighing slightly. “We've got a lot of work to do.”

“What's going on?” Lance asked, stretching a leg out in front of him.

“I just got a call from Jessie,” she said. “Liam's got a slight fever. She's taking care of it and said it was nothing to worry about, but she would call if it got worse. I just thought you'd want to know.”

Lance nodded and had opened his mouth to respond, when another voice broke in.

“What exactly is it that you do, Addy?” Wade said.

To anyone else in the room, it would have been an innocent question – but the tone with which he said it made Addy raise an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“So far, all I've seen you do is hand out water bottles and towels, pick up dirty clothes, and interrupt rehearsals to tell Lance that your kid has the sniffles,” he said. “Can't you do that at home? Or are you here for the distraction alone?”

“And all I've seen you do is yell at these boys that they're doing everything wrong, never telling them exactly what to do right,” she said. “Can't you be a tyrant at home, or are you here to make their lives even more miserable?”

Wade pursed his lips before a small smile came to his face.

“I can understand why your ex-husband did what he did,” he said. “Living with you for five years, any man would lose his mind.”

She didn't know how it happened – one minute she was looking at the other guys, including Lance, mouths hung open in completely stunned silence. The next she found herself standing right next to Wade.

She felt her knuckles connect with the hard bone of his nose, feeling the crack of it underneath his skin. She saw him fall to the floor, his nose and mouth covered in blood, before feeling Lance's hands grab her arms and pull her a few steps away.

“That's what I'm here for!” she yelled as he tried to pull her away. “How's that for 'Bye Bye Bye', bitch?”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“My bottle's empty.”

Melissa sighed and closed her eyes momentarily before getting up and going to the fridge. It was easier to keep Derek drinking than give a smart comment. It kept her unharmed, at least physically – and at least for the time being.

She popped the top off the bottle and handed it to him.

“Anything else?” she asked, standing in front of him, wondering what she ever saw in the man.

Derek shook his head. “You're in the way of the TV.”

As soon as she'd sat down, he looked over at her.

“How about a pizza?” he suggested, shaking his head when she mentioned one of the pizza places. “I want one of those fancy New York style pizzas. You lived in New York, went to chef school. Make me one.”

It was almost ten at night and the grocery store closest to them was closed. And the neighborhood they were in wasn't exactly the safest. It wasn't as bad as southwest Little Rock, but gun shots and sirens were common during the night. Derek hadn't improved living conditions any, with Melissa only thankful that the place was forced to live now had hot water and no roaches. It was still bottom of the barrel living.

“I don't have all the ingredients,” she responded, frowning when he pursed his lips. “Derek, I'm not leaving this late in this neighborhood...”

“Come here,” he growled, grabbing her arm hard when she tried to back away. “If Chris would have asked, I'm sure you would've hauled your ass out the door to the store to get him the stuff for a pizza. Am I right? Walked through the fires of Hell itself...”

“He'd have called in a pizza. Not asked me to go out late. Because unlike you, he's not an asshole.”

Melissa wasn't prepared for a half-full beer bottle to be used as a club. She saw spots when she tried to blink, pain shooting through her head. Tears filled her vision and she twisted her arm to get away.

“I'll go get the stuff for the pizza,” she said, her voice broken, thick with tears.

“If you think you're taking the truck, you've lost your mind,” he said. “Call a friend. Oh wait...they're all on tour.” He smiled. “I don't care how you get to the store. I want a thin crust supreme...all fresh ingredients. And while you're out, get me more beer.”

He tossed a couple of twenties at her.

“You might want to think about getting a job. This is the end of the freebies.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

New York. Melissa could picture it in her mind. Even though she and Chris usually didn't go out really late, there was never the apprehension that she felt walking in Little Rock. It would come as a shock to most who lived outside of New York that it was relatively safe compared to this smaller “big” city. Unlike New York, people were not out in mass walking here. Stores were not open – except for the small store five blocks down that looked like a drive-by could happen at any time. As quickly as she could, she got what she needed and left, carrying the bags.

“You need a ride, sweetheart?” a man's voice asked, the words having a different connotation than what was said.

“No, thanks,” Melissa said as she walked a bit quicker, the apartment complex coming into view. She knew she wasn't dressed any different than anyone else, in jeans and a t-shirt. Some of her 'worst' of the best clothes. All the things she left in the closet across from Chris's things.

They were just material items, but she missed her favorite shirt – a striped shirt with the front wrapped across her bosom and flared out at the bottom slightly. It went good with jeans or slacks, one of her often worn items. The suitcase she'd hastily packed with shaking hands consisted of very little, not sure of anything except Derek was there. And now she was walking down a sidewalk very late at night.

“You know, honey, this is a rough neighborhood...”

Melissa looked over at the man, and just shook her head, relieved when he drove on.

Even though she was less than a block away from the apartment and knew the chances of her making it safely were good, she paused a moment to adjust the bags so that she was holding them all in one hand. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the heavy object – the beaded rosary.

She grasped the diamond cross at the end tightly, wrapping her fingers comfortingly around its edges.

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit...”

She closed her eyes, running a finger over the first bead.

“Holy Father,” she whispered. “Please keep me safe.”

She had so much more she wanted to pray for – but it was then that she broke down into tears and couldn't go on. She could only hope that God heard her prayers, and that he would not forsake her in her time of need – as Chris always told her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Here you go, Slugger.”

Addy flinched when the cold ice pouch landed in her lap. She looked up and saw her husband smiling at her.

“For your knuckles,” he said. “I noticed during the show tonight they were starting to bruise a little. I figured they hurt.”

“Yeah,” she said, looking at her right hand that had started to turn a light shade of purple in spots, and was still sore. “I shouldn't have done that.”

“I thought it was awesome,” he said. “So do the other guys. Nobody wanted to say anything, but we were all more than a little tired of Wade 'Dictator' Robson. He's a damn good choreographer, but he's not a people person.”

“He crossed a line,” she said, placing the ice pack on her hand, wincing at the slight pain. “My temper got the best of me, I guess.”

“I didn't know you could do that,” he said, a smile crossing his face. “I mean, punch that hard. It was more than a little hot.”

She smiled.

“Touring with Wade for the next seven months should be fun though,” she said. “He was treating you guys bad before, I can't imagine what he'll do now.”

“Yeah, Johnny already considered that,” Lance said, coming to sit next to her on the lounge sofa. “That's why he fired him.”

“Johnny fired Wade?” she asked, shocked.

“Technically, asked him to resign, due to 'scheduling conflicts',” Lance said, using air quotes. “On paper, Wade had other commitments that prevented him from being at our beck and call when we needed him. In Johnny's office – well let's just say that I heard Johnny tell him that he was now on the outs with three important members of the NSYNC crew and seriously annoying a handful of others, and he couldn't waste his time worrying that any time Wade opened his mouth, a fist fight would break out.”

“So it's my fault,” Addy said.

“Not really,” he responded, throwing his arms behind his neck. “Johnny was pretty sure that if the next person to assault him wasn't me, it would be Chris. He did admit that he was shocked that you were the first, though.”

“I'm surprised I'm not fired,” she said.

“Actually, Johnny wasn't mad,” he said. “He had a smile on his face. I think he was kind of proud of you.”

“What about a choreographer, though?” she asked. “You guys still have work to do on some of your songs, and you need a choreographer. What will we do without Wade?”

“The replacement will be available tomorrow afternoon, just in time to rehearse for the Hartford show,” he said. “She lives in Waterbury and we go through there anyway. So actually, it works really well. She was a semi-finalist on So You Think You Can Dance, like Lacey was.”

She sighed. Her knuckles hurt so bad.

“If Mel had been here, we would have had to pull both of you off him,” Lance said, chuckling slightly.

“I can see the headline,” she said. “'Former Choreographer Found Dead; Body Floating in Hudson'.”

“Cause of death – verbal diarrhea and inflated ego,” Lance said.

“Suspects still on the loose,” she continued.

“Ornery blondes, armed with NSYNC press shots and Sharpies,” he said with a smile. “If seen, do not photograph, do not approach for autographs; call Johnny Wright immediately.”

“Lance, I miss her,” she said. “God, I miss her so much. She was my only person to talk to on this tour. Now I have no one.”

“You have me, you know,” he said.

She nodded slightly. What she couldn't tell him was that he wasn't a person she could go to to talk about the things that really bothered her, to work out the mental stresses of the day and of life in general.

“It's not the same,” she said, barely above a whisper.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The oven dinged and Melissa tried hard not to yawn. It was almost midnight. The smell from the old oven was one that she liked. A New York pizza like the one from her and Chris's favorite place just around the corner in the city – with different toppings of course. She pulled the pan out and sliced the pizza, taking a slice over to Derek.

“Here,” she said, holding the plate out for him to take.

Derek looked at her and then the pizza, his eyes shifting back to the television.

“What the fuck do I want that for?”

“You wanted a pizza...”

Her voice trailed off and she bit her lip.

“You know what? Fine,” Melissa said, taking the pizza and tossing it into the trash. She ignored Derek cussing when she took the rest of the pizza and dumped it as well, along with the over-full ashtray that had been left from some of his friends. “Oh, did you want pizza?” she asked as he looked at her, glaring at him, trying to not shake when he got up off the couch and half-staggered toward her.

“You're gonna eat that shit...” Derek said, leering at her and then looking at the trash can. “Who the hell do you think you are? You're a nobody...a stupid blonde who fell backward into a relationship with a guy who probably fucks guys when he goes out,” he taunted her, watching her get mad. “Your little boyfriend probably sucks dick better than you do. Ex boyfriend. He's probably banging some nineteen year old now...or one of his bandmates.”

Melissa knew he wanted a fight – any excuse to put his hands on her. It would be her undoing.

“At least I know for sure his penis was bigger than yours,” she said.

Derek smiled, leaning in to be nose-to-nose with her, running a hand over her cheek before slapping her hard enough to leave a hand print and her teeth rattle together.

“When I want you to say something, I'll tell you,” he sneered. “And I'll tell you what to say.”

Her cheek throbbed and she sucked in air, watching him make his way to the bedroom. Her thoughts went to Chris once more. They would have just finished their concert at Madison Square and be on the bus, on their way to Hartford for their next show in two days. Melissa almost hoped that he didn't see her again. She couldn't be sure how she was going to get through this. It would only be by the grace of God.

Chapter 5 – Changes

“You need anything else?”

The waitress stared at the girl that had been sitting at the small booth for almost an hour, staring at the paper and sniffling. She'd ordered a coffee and a water, turning down any food. She hadn't hurt anything, the other tables busy with the regulars and groups coming in after the lunch rush.

“Listen, honey, we all gotta eat. You want some pie? I have a slice of pecan and some ice cream with your name on it.”

“I have three bucks on me,” Melissa admittedly sheepishly. “And I'm job hunting...I can't exactly promise to pay you back tomorrow.”

It was a little 'greasy spoon' type of diner. However, judging by the amount of traffic in and out, it had good food. The only reason she'd ducked in was because her feet had hurt from walking around searching for work.

Victoria dug out her ticket book and wrote down the pie and ice cream. “Let me come back with your food and we'll talk.”

Melissa watched the woman walk away and went back to searching the ads. Most of the jobs she was either not able to do or not qualified for. Something caught her eye and she frowned.

NSYNC in Memphis – tix for sale. Row 10. Great seats.

She looked at the contact number and sighed. She was supposed to be on that tour. In the span of a few minutes, that had been ripped away from her. It seemed wrong to keep thinking of it, but it was all she could do. It hurt to think of Chris. As usual, he wasn't far from her mind.

Her thoughts wandered and she was startled when a place was set down in front of her. A salad with grilled chicken and crackers with dressing and a slice of pecan pie and ice cream, along with a glass of tea.

“What's this?” she asked, watching the woman sit down across from her with her own glass of tea and a Reuben sandwich.

“This,” she said, gesturing to the food, “is lunch. Tell me about yourself. Job wise...” she added as she took a bite of her own food.

Melissa told her a little of when she was in accounting, but then she went into culinary school. A smile came to her face when she was asked about her favorite dishes. They weren't different than a lot, some of them she'd tweaked for her and Chris. He loved tacos, but sometimes she made them with homemade shells and and chicken and seasonings, other times fish tacos and homemade fries with sea salt. The last time Beverly had come to visit, she'd teased her son about gaining a few pounds.

That thought was quickly shoved away when she was left with a question to answer.

“Excuse me?” she said, blinking at the older woman.

“Do ya have cotton in your ears, kid? Do ya want a job? It's not glamorous, but it's a paycheck and you keep your tips. Of course, you might be bussing or helping George back in the kitchen. I keep telling him the recipes need to be vamped up a little,” she said, rolling her eyes goodnaturedly.

Melissa sucked in some air and felt relieved. At least she'd have a little money coming in.

“Yes. Thank you...” she paused, waiting for a name.

“Victoria. Come see me tomorrow around 10 in the morning. I'll only keep you until five-thirty or so.”

The woman's long silver hair moved when she talked, a smile on her face as she explained the busy times of the diner and what was expected of her.

Melissa was excited about the job. She didn't figure she would get to keep much, if any, of her money, but it would be nice to at least hold the check in her hand.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Did yer mama use a Tupperware bowl to cut your hair like that, or the much classier set of fine butter containers y'all used for company?”

Lance narrowed his eyes at Justin.

“Keep talking, Noodle Hair,” he said.

Justin giggled and held his cereal bowl and spoon to his chest as Addy walked by.

“You two, knock it off,” she said. “I won't deal with the two of you acting like five-year-olds for the next seven months. Lonnie will have to carry me off in a white coat and find me a well-padded room.”

“I'll join ya, Miss Addy,” the large man said from the bus's lounge sofa.

Adeline smiled at him. The boys had practically begged Johnny to get Lonnie, Tiny, and as many of the old NSYNC crew back that he could manage. They claimed it just “wouldn't be” an NSYNC tour without “Sexual Chocolate”. Addy had turned up her nose and giggled at the nickname for their bodyguards – but she smiled at the thought that all five of them had seemed to revert back to the days when they were in their twenties.

In the end, Lonnie and Tiny joined them as bodyguards along with four new men – just as big and scary as the two originals – and most of the old band. Kevin, Troy, Billy, Paul, and Ruben had returned for the new tour, with the addition of a new girl named AJ to make the full band.

“Why are you guys looking at these anyway, if they're so awful?” Addy asked. She reached down and grabbed the photo album from Lance's hand, immediately giggling. “Lance...the hair...”

“I'll leave you on the side of the road in Hartford,” he said. “I can handle single fatherhood.”

“Not at bath time, you can't,” she said with a smile. “Besides, don't feel bad. When I was sixteen I had a perm and feathered bangs.”

“That's not so bad,” Justin said.

“I was sixteen in 1999,” she said. “My style was not only horrendously bad, it was out of season by about thirteen years.”

“Ouch,” Justin said.

“Yeah,” she said, handing the photo album back to Lance. “Needless to say, I burned my senior pictures.”

“What can you manage to do with these?” Lance asked, pointing at the album full of pictures going on twenty years old. “I can't believe Johnny kept these.”

“I can't believe you and I walked out of the house looking like that,” Justin said, pointing between himself and Lance. “What were we thinking? Bright blonde is so not our color.”

“Don't you be talking about blondes now, Curly,” Addy said, pointing her finger at Justin. “Your letter is the first we could cut out of the NSYNC name and it would still make sense.”

“Try it,” he said. “I'll cut ya.”

“He's small enough that with a little wrangling, he can easily fit in one of those luggage compartments, Miss Addy,” Lonnie said, not looking up from his cell phone. “Just FYI.”

“Lance, man, back me up,” Justin said, patting Lance on the shoulder. “They're plottin' against me here.”

“What in the world gave you the impression I'm on your side of this?” he asked. “I'd love to stuff you in a luggage compartment.”

“If I get stuffed in the luggage compartment, it's only you versus your wife and Lonnie,” Justin said with a smile. “Who ya think will win that one, Bowl Cut? It might be wise to have me on your side.”

“Only because you raise a good point,” Lance said.

Justin smiled and nodded knowingly.

“Speaking of hair...” Lance said, his voice trailing.

Addy and Justin both looked down and their eyes landed immediately on an old picture of Chris. The whole bus became silent.

“Where is he, anyway?” Addy asked.

“Bunking with Joe and C,” Justin said, his voice becoming suddenly softer.

“He...can't handle this bus,” Lance said. “You...me...Liam.”

“It's the...'happy family' thing,” Justin said hesitantly.

Addy nodded slightly. She understood.

After a week, Chris was still raw. Mel still hadn't come home, or even contacted any of them – not that they expected her to, but they had held on to hope for a week, because that was all they could do.

The worst part was that they had nothing to go on. She hadn't left a shred of evidence behind as to why she would leave – with the exception of a note. There was something about that note that didn't sit right with Addy, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

“He'll manage,” Justin said. “How long can he do this to himself, really? It'll take him time, but...he'll get over her.”

Lance and Addy glanced at one another as Justin walked out of the room towards the bunks. They weren't so sure even time could heal this one.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Joseph Anthony Fatone, I'm gonna kill you...”

Chris opened his eyes and stared up at the top of his roomy bunk bed when he heard JC's voice travel down the hallway.

“What'd I do now?” Joey asked.

“Did you steal my iPad again?” JC said.

“I didn't touch your stinkin' iPad,” Joey said. “You damn technological freak of nature.”

“I put it in your bunk, C,” Chris said, raising his voice to be heard from behind the curtain he was using to hide himself from them. “It fell out of your duffel bag. I didn't want it to get broken.”

“Thanks Chris,” JC said.

Chris was relieved to hear the room outside go silent again, until he was startled by his curtain being pulled back harshly.

“Yo,” Joey said. “How you doing, Christopher?”

“You scared the shit out of me, Joey,” he responded, throwing a pillow over his eyes. “I'm trying to sleep, can you leave me alone?”

“I call bullshit, you aren't trying to sleep,” Joey said. “You sleep naked.”

“I do not, asshole,” Chris said, uncovering his eyes.

“I know, but it got you to quit hiding behind a pillow,” Joey said with a smirk.

Chris groaned, rolling his body over to face toward the wall, taking the pillow with him and hugging it to his body.

“Wanna talk about it?” Joey asked.

“That's the second to last thing I want to do.”

“What's the first?”

“Think about it,” Chris said.

“You can't keep it all bottled up inside like this, Chris,” Joey responded. “You'll explode.”

“All week long, that's all Addy and Lance have wanted to do,” he said. “Talk about it. Get it off our chests. Express our feelings. I'm damn tired of expressing my feelings. I think everybody knows by now how I feel.”

“Ad and Lance are upset, too,” Joey said. “You can't blame them. Mel was Addy's best friend. And Lance is too proud to admit it, but she was like a sister to him.”

“You don't have to talk about her like she's dead,” Chris said. “It's not she was Addy's best friend – she is.”

“She's not around anymore, Chris.”

“Oh gee Joe,” Chris said, turning his body towards Joey, scrunching his face up in anger. “I forgot. Thanks for reminding me.”

“I fail at helping, don't I?”

“If it were an Olympic sport, you wouldn't even take the bronze,” Chris said. “You don't just fail, you suck.”

“I'm sorry,” Joey said, his voice lowering. “I wish I could tell you what's going through her mind right now. I wish I knew, too.”

“What are we talking about?” JC said, pulling back the curtain more as he came up next to Joey.

“God, go away!” Chris said, burying his face back in the pillow. “NSYNC is about to go without their S.”

“NYNC – nah man, doesn't have quite the same ring to it,” JC said.

“He's upset about Mel,” Joey said. “And no, he doesn't want to talk about it.”

“You can't keep it all bottled up inside, Chris.”

“If I screamed loud enough,” Chris said, “do you suppose the driver would get scared, lose control of the bus, and crash right off a bridge? That sounds more pleasant than talking to you two right about now.”

“You don't love us anymore?” Joey asked, a fake pout on his face.

“Remind me to switch back to the other bus,” Chris said. “The Addy-Lance-Justin love fest still has to be minutely better than this.”

“I wouldn't count too much on that,” JC said. “Addy and Lance are getting along now, but God help anyone who's around if those two get to fighting with each other.”

“God help Lance,” Joey said. “Did you see the way she knocked Wade's lights out yesterday? Holy shit, I didn't know she had it in her. She broke his nose.”

“Joe, she's from Joisey,” JC said, his best Jersey accent coming out. “Of course she has it in her. Have you ever been around when she gets pissed and her accent starts coming back to her? It's hilarious as hell.”

“Somebody better warn the new choreographer.”

“I heard she's smokin' hot...”

“Are you guys kidding me right now?” Chris yelled, turning his body to look at the two of them. “Can you please have this fucking discussion somewhere else and leave me the hell alone?”

Joey and JC cautiously nodded and backed off, realizing that they had pushed Chris to his limit. When they walked away from the bunks and closed themselves off in the lounge area, he sighed and laid his head down on the pillow.

It would be a long damn tour.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, where is she?”

Addy looked at Justin, who was tapping his foot on the linoleum dance floor.

“Go take a cold shower, Justin,” she said, grinning. “Her and Johnny got stuck in traffic. He texted me and said he'd be at least half an hour late.”

“At least she can't bitch at us for being late this time,” Lance said.

“Or not being here at all,” Chris added.

“I don't think she's anything at all like Wade,” Addy said. She glanced at her knuckles – the purple bruising had only gotten slightly darker, matching the color of the accent diamonds in her handmade engagement ring, and they still hurt, but at least she could flex her fingers this morning. “At least I hope not. Johnny said she's a sweet girl.”

“Which counts for how much, exactly?” Joey said. “Johnny said the same thing about Wade once.”

“But this is a woman,” Justin said. “How bad can she be?”

“Seriously?” JC asked. “They can be worse. No offense, Addy.”

“I still have one hand that isn't injured, JC,” she said with a smile, while several of the others laughed.

“I don't care, as long as she's hot,” Justin said with a smile, garnering a look from the others. “What?”

Addy leaned against the wall and it was just a few moments later that they all heard the door of the room open.

“Sorry guys, I'm so late.”

Addy could say she was not stunned. The new choreographer was a tall beauty, with shiny dark brunette hair just past her shoulders that she quickly pulled into a messy bun the moment she rushed in and put her bag down on the bench by the door. She had legs that went on for miles, and she immediately pulled the baggy sweatshirt over her head to reveal a tight blue razorback tank top, running over a trim-but-toned stomach. With her back turned to them, Addy could see a large decorative music note tattoo on her right shoulder blade, which only accented her toned upper arms.

“I'm Courtney,” the woman said, turning towards them. “I assume you're NSYNC?”

“Are we?” Joey said.

“They are,” Addy said to the woman, rolling her eyes.

“Nice to meet you,” the woman said. “I'm your new choreographer.”

“Hot mama,” Justin whispered.

Addy rolled her eyes again and shook her head. Of course all eyes would be on the new choreographer – including Lance's, but to her relief it was more of a shocked look than one sizing up her beauty. Addy did have to admit, she was pretty.

She smiled when she looked to her side – she lifted a finger and closed Justin's jaw manually.

“I hope you all won't miss Wade much,” Courtney said, placing her sweatshirt on top of her bag.

“Wade who?” Joey and Justin said, in unison.

“Pigs,” Addy whispered with a roll of her eyes.

“I look forward to working with you guys,” Courtney said, glancing at Justin and Joey with a smile.

“We look forward to working with you as well,” Joey said, raising his eyebrows.

“But just because Wade is gone, don't think you all can get comfortable and lazy on me,” she continued. “I'm going to work you guys just as hard.”

“She can work me as hard as she wants any time she wants,” Joey whispered to Justin, who giggled.

Addy pursed her lips, reaching over to pinch Joey's side. When he winced and turned to her, she narrowed her eyes.

“Behave yourself,” she whispered. “You're not fifteen, Joseph Anthony Fatone.”

“Ooooh,” Lance said, grinning. “You got the full name, Joe. You'd better listen.”

“Hey, Ad,” Justin said, elbowing her. When she turned to look at him, he smiled, even though his eyes were on the choreographer's body still. “I want to personally thank you again for cleaning Wade's clock. This is like, the best gift you could ever give me. Merry early Christmas to me.”

She rolled her eyes once more. “Absolutely no blood flow to the upper brain anymore,” she said, watching them all walk off to take their places on the rehearsal floor.

Chapter 6 – Glamorous

Two weeks later

“G-l-a-m, o-r-ous yeah...”

Melissa smiled as the red-haired woman, donned in her blue waitress shirt and white apron, danced and sang along with the radio in the back next to her as they refilled ketchup bottles and salt shakers mid-shift, just after lunch that day. She loudly smacked her gum as she worked, her enormous hoop earrings swinging with every shake of her hips.

“We flying first class, up in the sky...in a jet plane, livin' the life...”

“Gina, I think it's 'poppin' champagne, livin' the life',” Melissa said, correcting her.

“How do you know?” Gina asked.

“I've heard this song about five million times,” Melissa replied. “Besides, someone once...”

Melissa's smile fell. She had slipped up – she had thought of him.

“...corrected me,” she finished. She cleared her throat and wiped her hands on the dish towel she had stuck in the tie of her apron. “Can you hand me that container of sugar packets, please?”

Gina reached above her head to pull down two Rubbermaid containers filled with regular sugar packets and pink Sweet-N-Low packets, handing them to Melissa as she swayed along with Fergie's voice again. Melissa filled the small ceramic containers to capacity with sugar and Sweet-N-Low packets, replacing what the morning crowd of breakfast diners had used in their coffee.

“I'm not clean, I'm not pristine, I'm no queen, I'm no machine...I still go to Taco Bell, drive through, gross hell...”

“Raw,” Melissa corrected. “Raw as hell, Gina, not 'gross hell'.”

“Don't that sound good, though?” Gina said, smacking her gum, her Arkansas accent thick. “Taco Bell. Hey, how 'bout when we get off at five, we do dinner there? You 'n me. I'm cravin' one 'a those chi-lupas or whatever they call 'em.”

Melissa had to chuckle lightly to herself. It amazed her that only having lived in New York for two years, she could come back to the South and hearing such a thick Southern accent would be a shock.

“I don't really have any money,” she said honestly.

“My treat,” Gina said. “Maybe we can go see a movie, too. Come on, we'll have fun. You need a girls night, ya know?”

Melissa sighed softly. She did need a girls night. That was one of the things she missed the most about New York, aside from Chris – her and Addy's regular girls' nights. Sometimes it was just her and Addy, and they would go to dinner in a fancy restaurant, then walk down Broadway and window shop before it got too dark. Afterward, they would go see the cheesiest chick flick they could find in the theaters, spending most of the time whispering giggles to each other. Other times, Joey and Kelly would babysit Liam and Lance would join the two of them, and he would take them to some wine joint before taking them out to dinner. He would treat them to days on the beach or massage and spa days, just for the hell of it – because that was who he was. They were 'his girls' and he liked to spoil them.

But there was no way that Derek would allow it. Not with Gina – not with someone she could potentially get close to and spill the secret that they weren't as perfect as he portrayed them to be. Not with someone she could spill his dirty little secrets to.

“I was just going to make some fried chicken for dinner,” Melissa lied, knowing that it would be another night of popping a frozen pizza in the oven, because he had drank all their grocery money away. “Then Derek and I were going to rent a couple of movies and maybe have a bottle of wine before we went to bed.”

“You have such a romantic boyfriend,” Gina said, turning up her nose as she leaned against the prep counter next to Melissa. “I'm so jealous. Jason's idea of a romantic night in is ordering buffalo wings, watching UFC and drinking a six-pack of beer while he burps and farts in the recliner.”

Jealous, Mel thought to herself. She was jealous of Gina – watching UFC on the TV would be much better than re-enacting it in your own living room...and being on the losing end.

“Yeah, he's just a peach,” Melissa replied, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

“Oh well, maybe in a couple weeks,” Gina said, leaning up. “But you tell 'im that he needs to share ya with me at least once. He can't have y' all to himself.”

Unexpectedly, Gina reached out a finger to poke Mel in the ribs with her long fingernail – and Melissa winced and cried out when the pain hit her. Her eyes immediately teared up at the stabbing sensation in her ribs, her hand going to the area, dropping packets of sugar all over the floor.

“Whoa,” Gina said, surprised at the reaction. “What happened?”

Melissa bit back another cry and blinked, trying to dry the tears in her eyes and make the black spots in her vision disappear.

“Nothing,” she said, taking a deep, painful breath. “I uh...hurt myself the other day, that's all. It's still a little sore.”

“Well, what'd ya do? Let me take a look at it...”

“No!”

Melissa surprised even herself when she yelled it, watching Gina take a step back.

“Sorry,” she said. “I just...it's a really gross, ugly bruise. It's embarrassing, you know? It looks disgusting. It's not something you want to see.”

“Melissa, what'd ya do to yourself?” Gina said, becoming serious. “If it's that bad, maybe ya should go to a doctor.”

“No, Gina,” Melissa said, shaking her head. She attempted to carefully lean down to the floor to pick up the packets she had dropped, but only bending an inch or two hurt and she recoiled. “It's not that bad, it's just...the bruise is healing, and it's all yellow and green and stuff. It's really gross.”

“I still think I should look at it.”

“No, Gina...”

Melissa fought against Gina grabbing at her blue shirt, attempting to lift it from its tucked-in place in her apron.

“Girls, what's going on here?”

Both women looked up to see Victoria staring at them.

“Are we having a tickle fight, or are we working?” she asked.

“Melissa's hurt, and she won't let me take a look at it,” Gina said.

“Nark,” Melissa said, looking at her co-worker.

“Is it a work-related injury?” Victoria asked. “Because if it is, ya need to let me know, Mel.”

“I'm fine, Vic,” Melissa said. “Honestly. Gina's overreacting. It's not that bad. I'm such a klutz. I...” She paused. “I tripped and fell into the onion slicer the other day,” she said, pointing at the large piece of machinery on the vegetable prep table in the corner. “The turn handle stabbed me in the ribs, and now I have a bruise. It's sore, that's all. I'm really fine.”

“Mel, I'm gonna need to see that bruise,” Victoria said. “Sorry. If it happened at work, I need to know the details.”

Melissa sighed, feeling the tears come to her eyes again – and this time, they weren't from the pain. She had tried so hard to keep work and home separate. As much as he didn't want anybody to know what went on behind closed doors in their house, neither did she. It was embarrassing. It was humiliating admitting to people that she was so weak, so stupid to let someone control her the way that he did.

She turned around and reluctantly untucked her shirt from her apron, lifting it slowly to reveal the greenish-purple bruise on her side, right below her rib cage.

Both girls audibly gasped, horrified at the sight of the bruise.

“Gina, back to work,” Victoria commanded. “Melissa, in the office. Now.”

Gina stumbled, reluctantly shoving her hands in her apron pockets and walking past Victoria to the lobby of the diner. Without a word, Victoria walked off toward the back.

“The office” was just the code name for the industrial-sized dry food storage area in the back, since the diner didn't really have an “official” office. That was the office – there was a desk wedged against the wall between stacks of boxes of single-serving potato chip bags and stacks of paper towels and toilet paper rolls. That was where George, the owner, and Victoria, the general manager and head waitress, handled all the diner's business. It was humble, but that was what Melissa liked about it.

She turned and followed Victoria into the storage room, feeling much like a little kid that had gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar and was about to get punished.

“So,” Victoria said, closing the creaky old door as Melissa stepped in behind her, “you sure ya fell into the handle of the onion slicer? You sure ya didn't run into a door? Maybe trip and fall down the stairs? Or trip on your way into the bathroom late at night and run into the counter?”

“No, it was the onion slicer,” Melissa said sheepishly.

“How stupid do ya think I am?” Victoria said.

Melissa hung her head.

“Ya think I haven't seen this before?” Victoria continued. “D'ya think there hasn't been a hundred other waitresses that have come through my diner, covering up the bruises with makeup, telling me how big of a klutz they are and how often they hurt themselves? Nobody hurts themselves so often that they have a new bruise every day, Melissa.”

“It's not like that, Vic,” Melissa said.

“Two days ago, ya had four bruises on your arm in the perfect shape of fingerprints,” Victoria said. “Don't piss on my head and tell me it's raining, girl.”

“I'm not...” Melissa stuttered. “I'm not doing that, Vic. I swear.”

“I wasn't born yesterday,” Victoria said. “I know a woman who's being abused when I see it. Like I said, I've seen hundreds 'a girls come through this diner. Girls just like you – stumbling inside, broke as a joke, ordering a coffee, feet sore from job hunting, jus' wanting an application. No other choice than to work in this greasy spoon on their feet ten hours a day because they have no education, or no skills, or both. D'ya think I woke up one mornin' when I was a girl and said 'I wanna run a greasy diner one day, that's my dream'?”

Melissa shook her head.

“No, I didn't,” Vic said. “I didn't come from a well-ta-do family, couldn't go to college myself. I was one 'a those girls once – one 'a you. Wandered in with five bucks to my name, no job, so tired 'a job hunting I coulda screamed. George gave me a job waitressing, and I been here fifteen years. Managed to put myself through college during that time, too. And ya know what? I don't stay 'cause I'm too stupid to do anything else – I stay 'cause I'm good at this.”

Melissa nodded.

“You, Melissa – you stay because you have no choice. And I can't figure out why.”

Melissa looked up.

“Ya lived in New York for two years,” Victoria said. “Ya put yourself through culinary school and graduated one of the top fifty students in your class. Your professors said ya had some 'a the most amazing food they'd tasted. Said ya could have been a chef at Nobu, or Spago, or any one 'a those fancy-schmancy elite restaurants easily. And here ya are – waiting tables at a diner in downtown Little Rock. Doesn't make any sense.”

Melissa was silent. What could she say? That three weeks ago, she had an apartment in the middle of Brooklyn, a wonderful boyfriend, promising career dreams in one day owning her own restaurant, and was living the glamorous lifestyle that Fergie sang about – until one night while baking a pie, she was ripped from her own home?

“It was an accident,” she said softly. “Derek was working on the truck's tires. I came up behind him, startled him, he jumped and brought his hand back and hit me in the ribs with a tire iron. It was my fault, and he said he was really sorry. I didn't run into the onion slicer – I just didn't want people to think he did it on purpose or anything. I didn't want him to get in trouble. I lied, and I'm sorry.”

Victoria pursed her lips.

“I hope for your sake, you're tellin' the truth,” she finally said. “Better get back to work – Gina's got a crowd 'a hungry people out there.”

Melissa stood in front of Victoria a moment, but quickly shoved her hands in her apron pockets, hanging her head as she walked out.

When the door closed, Victoria shook her head. She could see it as clear as glass – and she didn't believe Mel's lies for a second.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Addy woke up ten minutes before the alarm was set to go off, feeling a familiar stabbing pressure in her bladder. It was only slightly painful, more uncomfortable than anything.

The last thing she wanted to do was move. She was curled up on her side, the covers pulled up tightly to her chest. Lance's arms were wrapped around her, his nose deeply nuzzled into the back of her neck, his arms pulling her towards him. The temperature in the hotel room was just right, not too hot or too cold for her. She could feel his breathing against her neck. It was perfection – for once.

But the timing was too perfect – ten minutes of quiet, before the alarm would wake Lance up, and he would start getting ready for his long day. She wouldn't get another moment of peace either – she would have to get Liam dressed and ready, which was a task in itself. Inevitably, one of the boys would call her, for toothpaste or deodorant or cologne, because they either forgot to mention they were out or couldn't find them in their bags. Once she got all the boys safely to the venue, she would make her run to the store for whatever supplies; then she would meet with Johnny. By the time all of that was done, it was time for sound check and the boys to get ready for meet and greets. She would try to scarf down dinner or a snack before the show and having to handle things backstage. When the guys finished, she'd be as exhausted as they were.

She reluctantly pulled away from Lance's grasp, preparing to get out of bed, but she was surprised when he grasped her tighter.

“Don't go,” he mumbled, half-asleep.

“Bathroom,” she said, turning her head to whisper it in his ear.

“Aj.”

She smiled, feeling his nose rub against her ear as he said the pet name. Only one person called her AJ, after her initials, and that was Stephanie – and it was rare. But he had taken to calling her “Aj” on occasion, something she only allowed him to call her.

“Don't leave,” he said.

“I really have to go to the bathroom,” she said.

He groaned.

“If I don't get up, I don't think it would be very pretty,” she said.

“Fine,” he said.

“Go back to sleep, get a few more minutes,” she said, turning over to kiss him on the cheek. “You have a long day.”

He loosened his grip as she crawled out of bed, pulling the covers back over him and settling back down into the bed with a sigh.

She waited a few seconds to make sure that he didn't open his eyes back up to look at her. Quietly, she walked over to the corner of the room, to where her “lady bag” sat, as the boys called it – filled with makeup, perfumes, medicines, and feminine products, all things that they wouldn't even go near. She passed by Liam in his pop-up crib on the way, rubbing a hand over his hair as he slept peacefully.

She leaned down and quietly pulled the zipper on the small bag. She rummaged around the compacts of her foundation and eyeshadow until she found the plastic-wrapped tube, pulling it out and grasping it in her hand tightly. She turned around once more to look at Lance, seeing his eyes closed, before walking into the bathroom.

She closed the door and turned on the light, staring at the wrapping. After all this time, she had come to hate this time of the month.

If she thought about it, she wouldn't do it – so without thinking any harder, she ripped open the package, pulling out the stick.

After she had done what she needed to do, she flushed the toilet and sat the stick down on the counter. She washed her hands quickly and leaning against the counter, turning her body away from it. There was too much temptation to look at it before the time was up.

Prayer no longer worked. She had prayed almost all her faith away by now. Every month it was the same thing – for a brief time, she would feel pregnant. She would feel exactly as she had when she was pregnant with Liam; more tired than ever despite getting plenty of sleep, nauseous with everything she ate, and noticeably grouchier than normal. She would get her hopes up when her period was nowhere in sight. Inevitably, days after she would test, that's when it would decide to show up.

They had been trying since before the reunion at the VMAs. Despite their fears about her pregnancies, they agreed that they wanted another baby. She was getting older, having just turned 31 – and already having fertility issues, neither of them wanted to deal with the risks that came with trying to have children after the age of 35. Her biological clock was ticking loudly in her ears, telling her that her window of time to have babies was winding down.

They both thought it would be easy. After all, she got pregnant with Liam without even trying, while she was taking birth control, because of a complete accident. She had done her math and figured out that she was unknowingly unprotected for about six months before she got pregnant. She was hoping it would be the same; she was supposed to be pregnant at the VMAs, in fact, if she had guessed right.

But months had passed, with nothing to show for it. They had been trying for almost a year now. Eleven months in a row, she had waited; eleven months in a row she had taken tests. Eleven months she had been disappointed by clear negatives, or faint marks that could have looked like second lines but only turned out to be her eyes playing tricks on her. And eleven months in a row, she would be crushed a few days later when it would become clear that she definitely was not pregnant.

She didn't expect this time to be any different. In fact, this time she didn't make a big deal of the “taking” of the test. It was no longer exciting – it was no longer an event that she wanted him outside the bathroom, waiting with her, waiting to hopefully be excited by the results. She was only slightly hopeful this time, since she was already three days late – but her instinct told her that her hope was unwarranted; that she was late because of the constant travel and the stress of the tour throwing off her cycle, and the test was only a formality to confirm what she already knew.

The alarm went off from outside the bathroom, and as she heard Lance stir and shut it off, she turned around slowly. She could have cried when she looked at it.

Negative.

“Addy, have you seen Liam's sock monkey?”

She looked up as Lance's voice, tired and as-of-yet un-caffeinated, came her way through the closed door.

“I can't find it anywhere,” he said, his voice loud.

She reached up and wiped away a tear that had inadvertently slipped out without having noticed.

“Um...in my bag, I think?” she said.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” she yelled back. “I'm just having a woman moment.”

“Is that like Bella's human moments in Twilight?” he asked jokingly. “Or do I just want to take the man stance and say I don't want to know?”

As sad as she was, she couldn't help the smile coming to her face, and the giggle escaping.

“I'll be out in just a second,” she yelled back. “Don't worry.”

She picked up the test from the counter, glancing at it once more. At least this time it wasn't a question. There was absolutely no faint second line that could leave her to question whether she had read the test wrong or tested too early.

She threw it into the trash, taking a moment to push it down to the very bottom, hidden by the various other things that had been thrown in there. She wanted to go on with her day normally, without him knowing that she had even taken the test. She wasn't ready to tell him.

Not yet.

Chapter 7 – Surprise Visits and Secrets

One week later – April 3, 2014 – Baltimore, Maryland

“So...who are we picking up again?”

Addy crossed an arm over her chest, looking to her side at Johnny. She saw him smile, but his eyes were fixated to the front.

“You'll see,” he said.

She tapped her foot. The busy Baltimore-Washington International Airport made her nervous. She looked down at her side, ensuring that Liam was still standing next to her, grasping tightly to her hand.

“Relax,” Johnny said, glancing over at her. “It shouldn't be long now.” He smiled, looking down at Liam. “Have you taken your chill pills lately?”

She sighed. She hadn't taken her “chill pills” - what the crew had taken to calling her anxiety medication – but she hadn't told anyone that she had gone off them, except Lance. No one knew they were trying to get pregnant, or of their struggles. She preferred to keep it that way.

“I'm fine without them,” she said. “There's just so many people here.”

“Busy, busy,” Johnny said, glancing around the airport looking at all the people. “Hope she can find us.”

“Haven't we had enough surprises in the past three weeks?” she asked. “I mean, first there was Wade being a complete asshole and me having no choice but to clock him...”

“No choice?” Johnny questioned, a smile on his face.

“He wasn't listening to reason,” she responded, smiling a bit. “Then there was the brand new choreographer coming in and the boys having to get used to her.”

“How's she doing, by the way?”

“You should be asking how the boys are doing,” she said. “She's a walking contradiction – she's gorgeous, but she is an absolute beast. By the time this tour is over, Lance may never walk again.”

“Justin doesn't seem to have a problem with her.”

“Justin spends most of his time drooling over her,” she responded, pausing as he laughed. “It's more like masochistic foreplay for him.”

“Too much information, Addy,” Johnny said. “Too much information.”

“Then there was the bus breakdown...”

“That wasn't so bad, was it?” he asked.

“Oh gee no,” she said sarcastically. “We were only stuck in Montreal in March in negative-five-degree weather for three hours. I'm sick of surprises, Johnny.”

“You'll like this one,” he said with a smile. “I promise.”

She only sighed.

“Sephie!”

Before she could stop him, Liam let go of her hand and took off running towards the front of the airport. She was about to panic when she heard the voice.

“Li-Li!”

She looked up in disbelief, to see Stephanie with her arms outstretched, waiting for Liam to jump into them.

“Oh baby, baby,” Stephanie said with a smile as she picked him up, immediately smothering him in cheek kisses. “Aren't you just a mini-Lance, only so much cuter and sweeter?”

“Stephanie?” Addy said.

Stephanie looked up, holding Liam to her hip, and smiled.

“In the flesh.”

She could feel her jaw fall open.

“What are you doing here?”

“I'm going on tour with you, dummy,” Stephanie said, walking up to her and wrapping her in a hug. “Lance thought it would be good for you and might cheer you up.”

“How long will you be with us?” Addy asked.

“You have to put up with my ass for an entire month,” Stephanie responded, smiling as she saw Johnny and gave him a hug. “Aren't you lucky. Now where the hell are those big hunkin' bodyguards? They can carry my bags.”

“No bodyguards today, they're busy protecting the boys,” Johnny said.

“He means babysitting the boys then,” Stephanie said with a glance to Addy, who smiled and nodded.

“I'll go get the bags,” Johnny said with a chuckle.

They watched him walk away from them, and Stephanie turned to her friend once he walked off.

“You don't look as happy as I'd expected you to be,” she said.

“I'm just...shocked. You're the last person I expected to see today,” Addy said. “I guess I got my hopes up a little that Johnny was going to surprise me with--”

“Mel?”

Addy nodded slightly. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay, Lance told me what was going on,” she said. “That's one of the reasons he sent me out here. He thought you needed a 'girl' friend, and he just didn't think that Justin was cutting it like he used to.”

Addy giggled. “Oh, it'll be so much fun to hear you and Justin bickering on the tour bus for the next month.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Stephanie said. “By the time the month passes you may want to leave me on the side of the road and hitch Justin to the hood of the bus.”

“You assume I don't already want to hitch Justin to the hood of the bus,” Addy said with a chuckle.

“Again, a be careful what you wish for situation. You wanted to have kids – congratulations, Addy! You have six of them now.”

“At least five of them are potty-trained,” Addy said.

“Oh, we're absolutely sure about Chris now, are we?”

Addy slightly smiled.

“Is he that bad?” Stephanie asked.

“He's not the same Chris anymore,” Addy responded. “He hasn't played any tricks on anyone on the buses yet. The other day, Justin made a crack and he just ignored it...didn't even have a witty comeback for it. When they pull out the props for the shows, he just walks right past them, doesn't even try to see what trouble he can get into. Even Lance is concerned.”

“Maybe Chris has just...finally matured,” Stephanie said.

Addy raised an eyebrow. “They've all gotten older, but they'll never mature. This is as mature as any of them will ever get.”

“Right, where the hell was my head,” Stephanie said. “Lance is the most mature of the group and even he's a perpetual child around them.”

“Not only around them,” Johnny said to the both of them as he wheeled the small cart of Stephanie's three suitcases up to them.

“Hey, that's my husband, you know,” Addy said to the two of them as they all walked off to the airport exit. “He's not that bad...anymore.”

“I'm still pissed that you ran off to Vegas and I wasn't there to throw rice at Lance's face,” Stephanie said. “Would have been great payback for all those years he made my life miserable as his assistant.”

“Atlantic City,” Addy said with a smile. “We went to Atlantic City, not Vegas.”

“Same shit, different day,” Stephanie responded. “You jacked my maid-of-honor duties away from me.”

“What was I supposed to do? I had like an hour to get ready,” Addy said, taking Liam from her as they approached the car. “Which, by the way, included finding a dress and something that would stand-in for a tuxedo...”

“See, now I coulda done that,” Stephanie said. “Had I been maid-of-honor. But nooooooo. Oh well, I see how it is.”

“If it's any consolation, I only had a witness. I didn't really have a maid-of-honor, or even a bridesmaid,” Addy said.

“Too bad, Joey'd have looked super sexy in a taffeta dress.”

Addy laughed.

“Oh Steph,” she said. “I missed you.”

“I missed ya too, kid,” Stephanie said, throwing her last suitcase in the trunk of the car. “But you have me for the next month. Who knows how long it will take you to get tired of me.”

“With you, Lance, and Justin on the same bus, I'd hazard a guess at 'not too long'.”

“Actually, I'm bunking with JC.”

“JC?” Addy said, stopping in her spot in the parking lot. “Why are you bunking with JC?”

“Why not?” Stephanie responded. “When I told JC I was coming, he suggested I bunk on his bus because yours is full with you and Liam and Lance and Justin. So I talked to Johnny and he approved it.”

“Wait – you talked with JC before you came here?” Addy asked, narrowing her eyes. “Since when are you so close with JC?”

Stephanie shut the trunk of the car with a smile, only giving her friend a nonchalant shrug.

“Stephanie,” Addy said, walking off toward her with Liam on her hip. “Stephanie Dawn, friends don't let friends keep secrets...”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey there, you.”

The voice was unfamiliar, and Chris looked up from tying his shoe, expecting to see one of the backstage crew members. He was surprised to see Stephanie standing in the doorway of his dressing room.

“Oh, hey Steph,” he said.

“You ready for the next show?” she asked.

“Depends on how you mean,” he said. “Am I dressed and prepared? Yeah. Is my body ready? Hell no.”

“I have a feeling you don't mean your poor, aching knees, you old man.”

He looked up to see her smiling and tried to smile back.

“Part of me wants to say yes I do,” he said. “The other part of me knows I'd be lying.”

“I only met her once, at the party,” she said, walking slowly into the room, “but for what I knew of her, she was a sweet girl. The way Addy talks...I know she meant a lot to you.”

“She did,” he said. “She still does.”

“You know, my opinion might not count for much--”

“You're Stephanie,” he said, a slight grin on his face. “Don't you make it your mission in life to make your opinion be the only one that matters?”

“Well, yeah, usually,” she said. “But I only use force when it's Lance challenging me, 'cause he seems to think he's smarter than me.”

“It's not just you,” he said.

She chuckled. “My opinion might not count for much – at least not with you – but I side with Addy and Lance.”

He raised an eyebrow, and she chuckled again.

“I know, that's a shocker too, me agreeing with Lance,” she said. “But I don't think she left you because she wanted to.”

“Well, that's one answer,” he said. “The next question is, why did she leave?”

“Maybe she had no other choice.”

“What do you mean?” Chris asked, his interest piqued.

“Fear makes people do crazy things, Chris.”

“Like, she was afraid of me?”

“Not you,” she said.

“Then who?” he asked.

“Back in high school, after Addy moved away from Jersey, I was in a relationship with this guy,” she said, coming to sit next to him. “Giovanni. He'd make a good stunt double for one of those guys on Jersey Shore. He was your typical Italian meat head – Jersey Italian, not Joey Italian. You know the kind of guy – muscles bigger than his brain, marinates himself in tanning oil? That kind of thing.”

“Your taste in men is worse than I thought,” he said.

“G was great when I first met him,” she said, her stare turning wistful. “He may have had sausage for brains, but he was romantic, he was manly, he was thoughtful – he was everything you'd want in a man. Seventeen and stupid, I thought he was a dream. I thought I'd graduate high school and marry him. I just didn't know what he was really like underneath all the dreaminess.”

“What was he like?” Chris asked.

“First time he hit me was after prom,” she said. “I was a junior and prom was only for seniors in our school, but G was a senior. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world, because I was only one of two juniors with senior boyfriends who took them to the dance. The theme was 'A Day on the Beach' – typical Jersey.” She chuckled. “As if we didn't get enough beach. Anyway, after eight that night, they dimmed the whole gymnasium and turned on these lights and made it look like the beach at night, with the water reflecting over everything, and there were stars...it was so romantic. I thought I was in Heaven. But that night, he got drunk with his friends. He got fresh, but I said no – and he hit me. And then he raped me.”

“God, Steph,” Chris said.

“If only that was the worst thing he did,” she said. “One thing I learned out of that was to never say no to him again. It went on for another year – not because I was too stupid to leave, but because I was too damn afraid. I knew I had to leave, but where do you go? Where do you go when you're under the control of someone who makes it his business to know your every move, your every footstep, every friend you have, every word you say?”

“How the hell did you get out?” he asked.

“Luck,” she said. “A month after I graduated, the idiot broke into a liquor store with his buddies and tripped an alarm. He got caught and sent to jail. I packed my stuff up and moved to California early – he had no idea that I got a scholarship to USC two months before. That was my escape plan. I took what I could in my dad's old Chevy and told my family that I loved them, but I couldn't risk coming back to Jersey because of what he was doing to me. I didn't go back home for two years.”

“I don't call that luck,” he said.

“I do – I was miserable, but I was safe,” she said. “I didn't go to school with bruises around my eyes, or half a pound of makeup on my face to cover the marks. He didn't know where I was and he couldn't find me. Not a lot of women can say that; not a lot of women can get away and start a new life without fear that they'll be found. I was even luckier that I found Addy, my old friend. Someone I knew I could trust.”

“Does she know about this?” he asked.

“She knows I don't go back to Jersey unless I absolutely have to,” she said. “She doesn't know why; she thinks I left Jersey behind me because I never really fit in there, being Australian, but she's actually terrible at that kind of thing – judging people.”

“I don't understand,” he said. “You're Stephanie Andrews. For the love of God, we're all scared of you, even though we won't admit it. How in the world could you let a guy do that to you? You could kick any one of our asses on your worst day, because you're so tough; you're so strong.”

“And what do you think made me that way, Chris?” she asked. “The first time I started to trust any man since then was when Lance came into my life. We weren't even in a relationship with each other, but he cared what happened to me. Our friendship never came with restrictions, limits, or breaking points. I could test him and push him, but if he ever got mad, he laughed it off. He showed me that not all men were like that. It doesn't matter how tough or strong or smart you are – domestic abuse doesn't discriminate. It doesn't pick the weakest women because they're easy targets. It can happen to anyone because they don't come with signs – 'I'm sweet now, but in three months I'll get mad and hit you.' And not one woman is smart enough to see it coming before it happens – by the time you see it, you're too late. There's no easy way out by then.”

“Does Lance know about any of this?”

“G came to his door once,” she said. “Lance didn't know him, of course. G asked for me; said I was an old friend and he had to talk to me. He was too persistent; Lance felt something was 'off' about it from the beginning, and he told G that he didn't know who I was – he didn't know any Stephanie and he must have the wrong person. G put up a fight, but Lance told him that he was crossing a line and if he didn't leave, he would call the police and have them arrest him for harassment. I think that scared him and he left. Lance asked me the next day if I knew the guy. I could have told him everything – but I told him I didn't know who he was. I put it behind me. If I spent the rest of my life re-dragging myself through Hell, I'm no better out of the relationship than I was in it.”

“Lance and Addy are two of your best friends,” he said. “If you haven't told them about any of this, why are you telling me?”

“I'm not saying that she was abused,” she said. “And I'm not saying she left because she was scared of her abuser. But I am saying that sometimes, you don't know all that you think you know about a person. Maybe it looks like she ran away on her own because it's safer that way – for her, and for you.”

He only looked at her. Sadly, he did know things about Melissa's past. They were things he wished he didn't know.

“His name was Derek,” he said. “He put her in the hospital. I don't know the details. All I know is...it must have been bad. She ran away with almost nothing and refused to go back.”

“It happens to too many women,” she responded. “It could have been Addy, too; look who Marc eventually turned out to be. If she had stayed with him...who knows.”

He nodded; she didn't have to finish the rest of her sentence, or spell out details. Lance hadn't been his old self for months after it had happened, and Addy spent a year back in therapy trying to get over it. If circumstances had been different, and Lance and Addy had never met or gotten married, Marc could have easily changed on his own – and she could be dead.

“Mel is scared,” Stephanie said. “She's stuck in an endless cycle of fear and self-hating. She knows she needs to get out, she knows he'll hurt her or maybe even kill her – but she knows he'll do whatever he can to find her, because he thinks she is his possession. In a way, she is; and he won't let go of her easily. And if he found out about you...that she was in love with you...he might go after you, too. That's probably what scares her the most.”

“So you think that's why she left?” he asked. “Because he found her and he found out about me, and she's too scared for both of us?”

“If G found me--”

They were both startled by a knock on the open door, and looked up to see Addy staring at them both.

“Sorry Chris, I thought you were alone,” she said. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Chris and I were rekindling our secret love affair,” Stephanie said, hooking Chris's arm into hers.

Chris exchanged a look with Stephanie – and for the first time, he saw something beyond the feisty Australian woman that he thought he knew. He saw a deeper pain, an urge to keep parts of her life a secret from her friends, and a woman masking terrifying feelings the only way she knew how to – humor.

“Yeah,” Chris said, slightly nodding. “Flames burning hotter than ever.”

“Right,” Addy said. “Well, five minutes to the show Chris.”

The three of them paused a few moments, exchanging looks with each other before Adeline shook her head.

“I should know better,” she said, backing away from the door. “I knew I never should have asked.”

Chapter 8 – Suffered Dreams

“Don't fucking touch me,” Chris snapped at Courtney, his voice laced with pain. One minute he'd been rehearsing with the rest of the guys, and the next a loud pop had him yelling out in pain as he hit the stage and grabbed his knee.

It looked like slow motion and all he wanted was to lay there a few moments. The guys were all hovering over him, asking questions. When their choreographer had come over, he lashed out.

“Sorry, Court,” he huffed, rolling over and getting up to his elbows.

“I've heard worse, Kirkpatrick,” Courtney said, giving him a sympathetic smile as she bent down, pushing tenderly on his knee with her fingertips and watching him grimace and break out in a sweat. “I think you need to go get checked out, Chris.”

“It's not too bad,” he said, cussing when Joey and JC helped him up. He couldn't take a full step and he put hardly any weight on his knee. “God, fuck...” His head swam and he bit his lip. To make matters worse, Adeline and Stephanie appeared out of nowhere and started peppering him with questions.

“Damn, you look pale,” Justin pointed out before he could answer the girls. “You gonna pass out?”

“With any luck,” Chris muttered, shaking his head. “Someone just shoot me and put me out of my misery. That's what they do with horses when they break their leg. Same difference.”

“You aren't a horse. Maybe a horse's ass at times,” Stephanie said, looking concerned when Chris didn't even crack a smile.

“Anyone makes an old man joke and I swear to God I'm breaking your nose,” he threatened, letting Joey help him toward the backstage. The two of them left the rest of the group on stage, slowly winding back down the hallway until they made it to a chair. “Let me sit down, man.”

“You need to go to the hospital.”

“If they give me painkillers, I won't be able to perform tonight,” Chris said, shaking his head a little. “I can't do that.” He closed his eyes when another shot of pain went through him as he moved his leg. “Fuck me,” he growled.

“Well, you aren't my type, but if you insist,” Joey joked, relieved when Chris flipped him the bird. “You know Johnny's gonna make you go.”

“I know.”

As much as he didn't want to, a trip to the local ER would tell him what was wrong with his knee and would hopefully yield some sort of pain medication that would equal to him not giving a shit about anything. At least that's what he was hoping for.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You're a horrible patient, Chris,” Stephanie said as Chris sat in silence with his legs dangling off the hospital bed at the emergency room. She'd agreed to go with him, along with one of the new bodyguards who was still sitting outside in the waiting room. “Let's see, what's in your wallet,” she teased, opening up Chris's wallet and pretending to pull out the contents. “Damn, you actually took a good driver's license picture. Jerk.”

“I try,” Chris responded, watching her fiddle with his wallet. “Don't mess up my pictures,” he said simply, watching her pull out various things.

“You sound like a girl. What's the big deal?”

Her eyes found a picture and she took it out and flicked to his face and back to the picture. It was one of him and Melissa. Chris was holding her close with his lips against her forehead and her eyes were closed, a slight smile on her face. They looked...in love. At peace.

“This is beautiful,” she said, showing Chris as he nodded, looking away.

“Justin took that picture a couple weeks before the tour started. There's another in there...” His voice was flat, eyes dull. “Apparently he likes to take pictures when no one is looking. Says there's more emotion in them.”

Stephanie shuffled through the various business cards and credit cards until she found what Chris was talking about. Her eyes stared, wondering if Justin knew what a genius he was. Melissa was clearly the kisser in the picture, her hand that was visible holding Chris's face, her palm resting on his cheek. A smile was on Chris's face that spoke volumes.

She put everything back in his wallet and handed it back to him silently. Chris had found what most people only dreamed about. And she knew that no matter how much he tried to forget, he wouldn't.

“Those were some good pictures.”

Before he could say anything, the doctor came back in the room. The diagnosis was a relief. No surgery was needed, but the ligaments were severely strained. He was given prescriptions for medication and a knee brace that he was to wear everywhere but the shower for the next six weeks.

“Mr. Kirkpatrick, I can't stress enough the importance of you not re-injuring your knee,” the middle-aged woman told him. “You absolutely must not dance for six weeks. Minimal walking for at least the next week. And you have to go back to the doctor after six weeks to be released. If anyone has any questions, my number is on my card.”

She held her card out to him and then held it tightly.

“If you don't listen to what I say, there is a very good possibility that you won't dance anymore.”

Chris swallowed hard and nodded. He hated the thought of being hurt and not being at his best. Scarier was the thought of not being able to perform like he knew he could.

“Thanks, doc. I'll make sure to let the choreographer know I'm down for the count for a while.”

“I can hear the griping already,” Stephanie told him as he signed the papers to be released. She stood up and watched him gingerly step down, the brace over his knee, placing the crutches the hospital had given him under his arms. “Is that helping any?”

“Give me a couple of shots of vodka and it will.”

“Very funny, Kirkpatrick.”

Stephanie pulled her phone out and pulled up Addy's name.

Tell General Dance-A-Lot the old man is out of commission for six weeks, she texted.

That might have been funny if you hadn't sounded just like Mel, the response came after a moment. Freaky.

Stephanie shook her head slightly and hit reply. He's not going to get over her. You know that, right? She figured Adeline knew, but it had to be said.

Denial is an ugly thing for us all.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“How can I forget, baby we were the best...baby, I can't seem to give you up, you're mine. Summer days and summer nights...”

Melissa cut her eyes over to Gina, who was belting out the newest Mariah Carey song with gusto as they drove on I-30 toward downtown and Applebee's. She was still trying to figure out why Derek had let her out of the house with only minimal griping. Of course, it might have had something to do with the fact that she had begged and pleaded for two weeks to get out of the apartment. It was spotless and she'd made sure he was satisfied, with plenty of alcohol to keep him company. She would go home to him either passed out or waiting up for her, very drunk. Either way wouldn't be pleasant, but for right now it was worth it to have one of her favorite singers rip her heart into shreds.

Of course, Gina didn't know that.

“Ya know what's funny?” Gina asked loudly, looking over at the woman in the passenger seat, giving her a grin. “For bein' in New York City, ya sure don't talk 'bout it much. What'd ya do there? Besides class. I know ya didn't live at the school,” she said, rolling her eyes at Melissa.

“Might as well have.” Melissa looked out at the window at the traffic. “I just worked and went to class and came home. Nothing exciting.”

It was a lie, and she hated telling it. The taste of it was bad, but it was what she had to do.

“New York isn't all it's cracked up to be,” she said. If she tried hard enough, eventually she'd forget all the things that she had left behind...until the next time the thoughts entered her head.

“Whatever...” Gina shook her head. “Ya can't tell me ya didn't see all sorts of movie stars an' celebrities.”

Melissa harrumphed and let out a small chuckle. “I met a few, but eventually they just become like anyone else.”

“So who'd ya meet?”

“Robert Downey, Jr.”

“Holy Mary, Mother of God!”

Melissa smirked as Gina stared, her mouth hanging open for a few seconds.

“He was even dressed as Tony Stark.”

She was glad they were pulling into the parking lot, shouldering her purse. It was technically a lie, but hell...Gina wanted a story, so she would oblige. Then some day, when it didn't hurt so much, the truth would come out. Her mind wandered as they walked toward the door.

“So, Ms. Potts, how was the party?”

Chris's hand snaked up her leg, her skirt going up as well as he gently squeezed her thigh and maneuvered them through the city streets. He was still wearing the Iron Man costume, all but the mask.

“It was splendid, Mr. Stark. Although, I'm not sure as your assistant if you're allowed to do what you're doing,” Melissa replied, giving him a small smile, winding her fingers through his and giggling. They'd been over at Lance and Addy's Halloween party for the evening. “I still can't believe you let your goatee grow out like that.”

“You think it's sexy, right? All I've heard for a week is you giggling like a school girl when I'd shave.”

Now it was her turn to blush a bright red and not meet his face.

“And you were any better with this skirt and these heels?” she muttered. It had been difficult to leave to go to the party once they'd gotten ready. Chris had been sure to try and persuade her to be “fashionably late” as she drug him out the door, after wiping her lip stick off and protesting that if the real Tony Stark were there, he'd have gotten his way.

“Yeah, Weston...I've been thinking about that most of the day...”

“Weston...”

Gina looked confused and stared at her friend, who'd clearly space out for a few minutes.

“They said we could be seated, ya know.”

“Oh, okay.”

Melissa was thankful Gina didn't ask what she'd been thinking about. Her eyes traveled over the other patrons that were at the packed restaurant, glad that she'd bought a couple of new shirts with the tip money she'd gotten a few nights ago. It wasn't much, but it made her feel slightly better about herself.

She sat down across from Gina and gave her drink order, looking around once more at all the people there. It would sound like she was paranoid if she admitted out loud that she wouldn't put it past Derek to show up, even drunk.

Trying to shove that thought down, she looked at the menu.

“So what are you going to order?” she asked the redhead, glad when Gina answered and started talking about something else. It almost felt normal.

Almost.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“How's the knee?”

Chris shut his eyes and tried to sigh inwardly. He could think of a lot of adjectives to describe it; none of which would be fit for the dark blonde child – who was currently hiding in a rack of costumes playing hide and seek with his Uncle Joey – to hear. Turning his head slightly, he just shrugged at Addy.

“Painkillers are wonderful, Ad. I keep asking for something stronger, but no one will give it to me.”

“You didn't take more than you were supposed to, did you?” Adeline narrowed her eyes at Chris and studied him carefully. “Chris...” She hated to sound like his mother, but she was worried about him.

“Fuck, Adeline,” Chris growled softly, grimacing when he got up too fast, the brace and crutches not letting him get away from her fast enough. “Give me a little credit.” He hobbled over to a corner of the room, knowing she was following him. “I'm going to go out there and put a smile on my face and sing. Isn't that what the fans want?”

He turned to face her, shaking his head slightly.

“Just...leave me alone. It's my own personal Hell every night...I need five minutes to just...be left alone.”

Addy studied Chris's face. She could see a slight sheen of sweat already on his forehead. He refused to use the crutches a lot of the time, leaving him putting too much pressure on his knee trying to limp, usually followed by a string of cuss words that even left Joey impressed. Pressing her lips together, she fought not to say something that would make it worse.

Instead, she straightened his shirt collar and gave him a small smile and nod before stepping away. Her steps were quicker the farther away she got from him, glad that she held it together until after she'd gotten out of the dressing room to wipe the tears coming down her face.

Sucking in a breath and letting it out, she shook her head slightly. It wasn't just Melissa being gone. It was everything that was happening. The other guys had their own way of dealing with their stresses, but Chris acting like he was had them all worried.

“Here.”

Stephanie's voice startled her as a tissue appeared.

“You go back in there crying and God help me...this is worse than a day time soap opera.” Her tone was only slightly joking and she watched the other woman sniffle. “At least we don't have a 'Making Of' or some other various camera crew following every move.”

“Don't say it too loud,” Addy said with a slight smile, balling up her tissue. “Someone will get the idea and then we'll have to see if Joey still wears his Superman underwear. He'd show it off just because he could.”

“I have no desire to see 'the Phat One' in anything less than all the clothes he owns,” Stephanie replied with a slight grimace.

“Don't hate the bears, Steph.” Adeline looked at her as she looked confused. “Mel used to call Joey and Chris the bears – 'cause they're burly and, well...hairy.”

“Yeah, that's so not my type. She's welcome to them.”

Adeline just tossed the tissue in the nearest trash can without a reply. It was a relief when JC poked his head out of the dressing room and told them to get back in there to do the before-show prayer. It saved her from having to come up with an answer. Not only that, but it kept her mind from going off onto other tangents.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Melissa sipped the last of her Coke through her straw and looked up at one of the televisions that were scattered around the restaurant. Gina had excused herself a moment ago so she was left at the table. The TV was on silent and she was no lip reader, but the headline at the bottom of the screen caught her attention.

'NSYNC's Chris Kirkpatrick injured during 'Take Back The Night' tour – Kirkpatrick was treated and released from the hospital Tuesday afternoon. Johnny Wright, manager, said that the injury was being treated with “rest and doctor's orders”...

The next headline scrolled across the screen, but it didn't matter. Even though it was nothing life-threatening, it felt like it could have been that way for all the good it did to not know about it. It was now Thursday.

She couldn't fault anyone. No one withheld information. There was just no time for the internet and her cell phone was one to be used for precisely that – it's all she had the money for.

Besides that, she had made an agonizing decision this afternoon. She pulled out her phone, knowing she needed to get it done before she lost the nerve.

She brought up the web and logged into Facebook. She had to be quick, or Derek would be pissed if he saw that she had run up the data usage on the bill. She didn't bother to read through her feed one last time – she didn't want to see anything that they had been up to. There was no reason to have an account to remind her every day of what she didn't have in pictures and words.

'Are you sure you want to delete your account?'

It took a moment and a deep breath for her to gather the courage to click the 'yes' button. All the pictures, the memories of her friends and Chris turned off. Essentially inaccessible. That's what she wanted. At least that's what Melissa had told herself as she clicked it.

'Any time you want to come back, just re-enter your log-in information...'

She wanted to tell the social media site it wasn't that easy, but there was no place to put a suggestion or complaint.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chris opened his eyes at the chime his phone gave, reaching over and feeling around for the phone in the space where it sat in his bunk.

“What the hell do you want now,” he muttered to the object, the glow making him squint for a few moments.

'You are no longer in a relationship' the Facebook notification said, making Chris click on the link that was provided, wondering why it just showed up. It still showed his name and the heart, but the words and Melissa's name were gone. He grunted as he rolled over, his knee not liking the movement.

The search bar at the top of the Facebook popped up and he typed in her name. It came up with quite a few Melissa Weston's, but none were her. He frowned more, pulling his curtain back. There was still a glow from the television in the back.

“Hey Joe...” he said, glad when he heard shuffling coming toward him.

“Yeah?” Joey asked, letting out a yawn, stopping at Chris's bunk. “I was almost asleep, man.”

“Sorry...” He thrust his phone at Joey after getting back to the message he'd received. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Joey pressed a few buttons and pursed his lips, handing Chris back his phone after a few minutes.

“It means she shut down her account. If you haven't noticed, she's not on Twitter anymore either. Sucks ass.”

“But that means she shut it down recently, right?” Chris said quickly, wanting to grasp at anything he could.

“Dude, I dunno. I just looked and noticed all her time line feed was gone. I figured you knew...” Joey's voice trailed off.

“Thanks,” he grunted, shoving his phone back in its spot after pulling the curtain closed once more. Chris was glad for the darkness, that he could let his sadness swallow him whole and no one would see. That he could let a few tears slip down his face, hitting the pillow. If he let a few out at a time, Chris told himself he wouldn't completely break down.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'I miss New York. It sounds ridiculous that I never dreamed I would miss a place, but I do. Arkansas is no longer home. It just feels like Hell. And I spend the minutes I'm awake wanting to be somewhere else. The only time I feel at peace is when I'm asleep. I can dream and be back in our apartment in bed with the rain hitting the window. I always woke up, somehow. And I always woke Chris up when it stormed, scared of the thunder.

I miss his voice. His lips. The way his body felt against mine as he distracted me. But those aren't the best dreams. The best dreams are the ones where I see him again. I don't ever say it out loud, but I have my doubts that will happen.

Derek keeps me on a short leash. Even if it did pull out further, there is never a chance he'll let me stray again. Fear is a good deterrent. As much as my heart breaks every day, I would rather die than let Chris be hurt. Or anyone else. I'm strong enough to do that...even though it chips away at my soul a little more every day. I can see myself becoming a shell of who I was, even more than before. I put on a smile at work because I have to. Other than that, there is no reason to smile. It's just a survival trick.'

Re-reading the words, Melissa shut the diary and shoved it farther under her mattress. She bit her lip, finding the other thing that made her feel marginally better. The beads warmed up in her hands as she held part of the rosary. Even if it was just a symbol of something else, it made her feel important. Like God was listening, even if no one else was.

Chapter 9 – Maybe It Is A Bad Thing... (Part One)

“Whose idea of a joke was this?”

Chris looked at the guys, all of them looking uncomfortably at him as he held the paper in his one free hand that wasn't supporting himself with the crutch.

“Who the hell thought it would be fun to put me through this on national TV?”

When they had given him his copy of the written schedule for their appearance on The Tonight Show that night, they knew he wouldn't be pleased...but they had no idea he would be pissed.

“Not only do I have to perform 'Not A Bad Thing' tonight, but it's gonna be the next fucking single?” he asked.

“It was...uh...Johnny's idea,” JC said softly, running a hand through his hair. “Justin can sing lead tonight, if you can't do it, Chris.” His frown grew deeper when Chris's eyes narrowed. “It was just an idea...”

“Anymore brilliant ideas you have, C?” Chris asked. “Any of you? Let's just brain storm while we're here. Someone want to gut me while we're on stage? Anyone have a prop gun to shoot me with? Or better yet, a real one? It might be a damn improvement...”

He balled up the paper in his hand, shaking his head quickly and holding his hand up when Lance tried to speak.

“I know,” he said. “'Chris, you're being unreasonable. Cheer up. Come on man, things aren't that bad.' What the fuck else is new.” He pulled his sunglasses down to stare at each of them. “The only one of you that even possibly knows how I feel right now is Lance. And all I want to do now is go sing this fucking song and get it over with. I'll be in my hotel room, drowning myself.”

“How much longer until he loses his mind?” Joey muttered as they watched Chris limp off toward his own room.

“I've got a hundred on 7pm,” Justin replied.

“That's only a few hours away,” JC pointed out. “Give him a break.”

“I did,” Justin said. “I almost said five minutes.”

Lance fought back a chuckle. He might have laughed if it wasn't so serious. They all missed the old Chris. The one who played practical jokes and was happy. He looked over at Joey and ran his hand over where Chris's chair was.

“This is not the Chris Kirkpatrick you are looking for,” he said in his best Obi Wan Kenobi voice.

“He has went to the Dark Side of the Force,” Joey replied, giving his friend a small smile as they followed slowly behind Chris.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you...stressed?”

Adeline glanced over at Stephanie, cutting her eyes upward angrily. She forgot Stephanie had been watching her the whole time she rummaged through bags, frustrated.

“Chris has a busted knee, Lance just got over a bad cold, the boys have to rework their entire choreo routine because of Chris's dancing restrictions, which Justin's not too thrilled about because now he doesn't get to watch Courtney shake her money-maker all over the dance floor.” She took a breath. “Liam decided to play 'Hide The Sock Monkey From Mom' and somewhere in this sixteen months of his life he's gotten really good at it. But then he realizes at nap time that he loves that sock monkey more than life itself and he absolutely can't sleep without it...”

“Breathe in, breathe out,” Stephanie said slowly, motioning slow, deep breaths with her hand. “Feel the air flowing through your lungs, young grasshopper, before one more of the NSYNC crew is warming the bench.”

Stephanie smiled as she looked to her left, looking down at the floor beside the hotel chair she was sitting in. She reached down, holding up the sock monkey at eye level.

“Don't die, Adeline,” she said in a shrill, baby-like voice, moving the monkey to mimic it talking. “Who would keep Tiny from killing Justin and hiding the body? We neeeeeeeed you...”

“Ugh, give me that stupid thing,” Adeline said, ripping the stuffed toy from Stephanie's hands as she chuckled. “He carts this thing around everywhere. God only knows what kind of germs this thing is currently cultivating.”

“Kids are germ magnets anyway,” Stephanie said. “One kid in their class comes to school with a sniffle and they pick up meningitis, or RSV, or E coli...”

“Yeah, thanks for settling my paranoia,” Addy said, handing the monkey to Liam as he laid on the bed, his eyes fixated on Spongebob on the TV. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem. So when are you going to try to have another mini Lance?”

“I swear to God,” Addy said, “if one more person on this tour asks me that, I'll go supersonic with the pyrotechnics and turn the whole arena into a fucking Fourth of July show.”

Stephanie's eyes went wide. “Wow. That sounds violent, and painful, and not at all like the Adeline that I know...which makes me think that something is up.”

“Nothing's--”

“Don't lie to me,” Stephanie interrupted. “Do not lie straight to my face. It's insulting. I've known you since we were both little girls and I know you better than I know myself.”

Adeline sighed, frustrated. “What makes you think that we haven't already been trying?”

“Uh oh,” Stephanie said. “Problems?”

“When your husband is a world-famous pop star, it ain't easy,” Adeline responded, piling clothes back into the suitcase she had just torn apart.

“How long?”

“A year now.”

“Have you thought about going to the doctor?”

“What are they going to tell me?” Addy asked. “I'm a medical fucking mystery as it is, Steph. Not one doctor can tell me why my daughter died. Not one doctor can explain how I was able to even carry Liam a full almost nine months afterward. It just happens they say, which is actually really insulting – my daughter dying just 'happened'? It's like someone saying John F. Kennedy was 'just' assassinated.”

“Well, they can do more tests, right?” Stephanie asked. “I mean, don't they have doctors especially for this?”

“Reproductive Endocrinologists,” Addy said. “Yes. You go in, you get poked with half a million needles, they take more blood from you than a vampire, and then it's a crap shoot whether they can tell you anything. Lance and I would have a better shot flipping a coin.”

“A crap shoot is better than nothing though, right? To find out what's going on...down...there?”

Adeline scoffed when Stephanie pointed towards her torso.

“What's going on down here,” she said, circling a finger around her stomach, “is that my uterus and fallopian tubes are less predictable than a Magic 8 Ball. 'Reply hazy; ask again next month.'”

“But isn't it fun trying?” Stephanie said with a smile.

“Yeah, uh...not so much anymore,” Addy said, scrunching up her nose. “When your husband walks in unshowered from a two-hour long show and takes off his shirt and says 'Let's get this over with so I can sleep', it kind of kills the romance.”

“One – ewww. He could at least shower,” Stephanie said. “Two – Addy, sweetheart, you gotta put some romance back into it. Some va-va-va-voom.”

“Va-va-va-voom?” Adeline questioned. “Should I fit the va-va-va-voom between tonight's late show appearance and the show in Raleigh in two days? Or should I pull him aside during tomorrow's radio appearance and attack him in the soundproof booth?”

“You joke,” Stephanie said, “but that's not a bad idea.”

“Steph,” Addy said with a chuckle, shaking her head. “Face it. There's no va-va-va-voom when you're trying to have a baby. You would think there would be, but there's not. Between 'Hey honey, I'm ovulating' and 'Don't move for ten minutes, the swimmers might get confused', the sexiness is lost in translation.”

“Did he really say that?” Stephanie said with a laugh. “Was he sick the day they taught sex ed?”

Adeline couldn't help but laugh out loud for the first time in several days.

“I might as well face it,” she said when their laughter died down. “I have one beautiful, sweet baby boy, and I'm lucky to have him.” She glanced over at Liam, whose eyes were becoming heavy as he clutched his monkey. “Super lucky to have him. My time is over; he's the only child we're going to have. Lance and I have our son to hold in our arms, and our daughter to hold in our hearts – and that's it.”

Stephanie sighed.

“Where's that nanny girl?” she asked, abruptly standing from the chair and walking over to Liam. She picked him up quickly but gently, his eyes opening slightly.

“Jessie's downstairs in the gym,” Adeline asked, narrowing her eyes as she watched Stephanie flit to the diaper bag. “Why? What are you doing, crazy lady?”

“You and I are going shopping,” she said, looking at her friend. “Come on.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“When you said shopping...” Adeline said, her voice trailing off. “...I thought you meant like, Bloomingdale's, or the Gap, or Macy's or something. I'm almost certain that isn't a Macy's.”

She glanced up at the large sign over the store entrance – Fredrick's of Hollywood.

“Lord have mercy,” she said. “Steph, I can't do this.”

“Think of it as a Macy's, but for career women of the erotic persuasion,” Stephanie said.

“Oh okay, that helps,” Adeline said, nodding. “Totally no embarrassment or anxiety now.”

“You'll be fine once you get in there,” Stephanie said. “You'll be laughing too hard to be embarrassed. You'd be surprised what you'll find in there.”

“Pretty sure I won't,” Adeline said. “Let's just go get a pretzel, treat ourselves to an Orange Julius, call this a lost day, and forget that we ever almost did this.”

“Adeline James,” Stephanie said, feigning an authoritative voice. “You are going in that store, you are going to pick out something nice and black and sexy and maybe even a little slutty for you to wear in front of your husband, and you guys are going to make a damned baby.”

Adeline couldn't help the smile that broke out. “Weirdest pep talk ever.”

“Come on!”

Adeline grunted as Stephanie grabbed her arm forcefully, pulling her inside the store. She could have cringed the moment her foot set in the store. She felt her cheeks flush and her stomach flip-flop, looking around and seeing the racks full of lace and multiple “sexy” colors of black, white, red, pink and blue.

“What does Lance like?” Stephanie said, immediately taking a few steps forward and pulling Adeline with her. “Is he a lace man, or does he like things more see-through?”

“I don't know what Lance likes, but I generally like clothing covering me,” Adeline said.

“Oh would you get over it?” Stephanie asked, turning to her. “I know it's not your usual 'thing', okay? But you said yourself, it's boring. There's no more romance. It's a chore, and it's something that neither of you want to do. There's too much pressure. Pressure has no place in sex or a marriage. You have to take the pressure off. Change it up a little and make it interesting again. Give him something good to look at, Addy. He thinks you're sexy as it is – but when he walks in the room and sees you wearing something like this...”

Stephanie turned, picking up the nearest hanger from the rack next to her, holding up the lacy black bustier, complete with garter belt.

“...I guarantee he will not only shower first, but he will not be able to keep his hands off you.”

“Is that crotchless?” Adeline said with a slight grimace.

“Addy...”

“Fine,” Addy said with a slight growl. “But not that one. I'm on tour with five other men – I'd like all surfaces of the skin that I could get arrested for showing in public, not showing, thank you very much.”

Stephanie smiled and put the hanger back on the rack, putting her hands together in a clap.

“Yay, let's go look at teddies. No, no...corsets!”

“God give me mental strength today,” Addy said, lifting her eyes toward the ceiling in a small prayer as Stephanie grabbed her hand and pulled her further into the store.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Adeline sat with Liam in the hotel room, watching the television and waiting for the guys appearance on the show. Stephanie had opted to go out and do more shopping, this time with Courtney. She was happy just to stay in the hotel and not be on the bus for a couple days. As much as she loved touring and being with everyone, it was nice to have a couple days without someone 'right there'.

And as much as she liked it, she was sure the guys were glad too. No one was fighting, but it would be good for each man to have some time to themselves. She was sure that was different now that they were older. They all still had their own lives, and as close as they were, it helped to separate from each other now and then.

“Ris...Dadddda,” Liam babbled and clapped, giggling and pointing at the TV as the guys made their entrance. “C...Jus'n...Joe...” He named them all off and clapped again. “Hi hi hi.”

Adeline smiled.

“They can't hear you, baby,” she told Liam, who shook his head and then put a finger to his lips in a 'shhh' gesture. That made her smile again. Lance always did that before they would sing so Liam would be sure to listen.

She put her finger up to her mouth and made the same 'shhh' gesture, letting her mind wander.

“Bwahahaha...”

“Justin...Randall...Timberlake...I will KILL YOU!”

Justin took off, the water gun in hand like a machine gun, as Adeline shook the water off her shirt and started chasing after him.

“You'll never get me alive, copper!” he yelled, taking off with the water gun through the patio door to the outside.

“Do I kill him quickly and grant him mercy, or do I make it slow and painful?” Addy asked, stopping and watching as he shut the patio door quickly, teasing her behind the glass door.

“Forget him,” Mel said. “It's two degrees outside. Let him freeze to death out there.”

“Good plan,” Addy said, giving Justin a small smile before she reached to the door and flipped the switch, locking him out. She laughed as she watched his face turn from amused to worried.

“Hey!” he said, his voice slightly muffled by the glass. “Addy, come on! I was just playin' with ya. Let me in!”

“You're on your own, Timberass,” she said.

“It's cold out here!” he said, trying to pull the door open. “Lance! Buddy! Friend, pal...let me in, please?”

“Busy,” Lance said, raising his voice. “Liam...look at daddy. Say 'bye bye bye'.”

Adeline looked at her son, who turned one year old today, sitting in the high chair in front of his dad and Melissa.

“Why are you trying to teach him that?” she asked.

“It's his first words,” Lance said. “I want to make them count. He can say mama and dada, he's one step from bye bye, and it's only an extra word.”

“Plus, it's funny,” Melissa said.

“That too,” Lance said.

“Li-Li,” Melissa cooed. “Say...bye bye! Bye bye!”

Adeline watched as Melissa made 'bye bye' motions with her hand.

“You two look utterly ridiculous right now,” she said.

“Bye bye bye,” Lance said. “Come on, Li...say it.”

“You guys do realize that he's not a dog that you can teach to bark on command, right?” Chris asked. “Try giving him a dog biscuit – maybe he'll roll over!”

“Shut up, old man,” Lance said. “Li, say 'bye bye bye, Uncle Chris, get out of daddy's house'.”

“Bah,” Liam said.

“Liam, you're so close,” Melissa said. “Say 'bye bye bye'.”

“Bah bah?” Liam said, looking at her.

“No, baby, bye bye bye,” she said. “Bye bye bye.”

“Maybe they should break out into the dance,” Chris said quietly, glancing over at Addy, who chuckled.

“Bah bah...bah,” Liam babbled.

“Ha ha HA!” Lance said in victory to Joey, who sat next to him. “We got him to say it. You owe me ten bucks.”

“Damn it,” Joey said, reaching into his wallet.

“Why don't you hang our son from the mobile above his crib, Lance?” Adeline asked. “Then he can really be like daddy.”

“Hater,” Lance said, snubbing his nose up to her.

She had thought it was so ridiculous at the time for him and Melissa to try so hard to get Liam to say the words. Together, the two of them had spent a ludicrous two weeks working with him and trying to get him to say 'bye bye bye' on command. She rolled her eyes and let them do as they pleased – after all, nobody was getting hurt or killed.

Now, she wished she had Melissa around to teach her son all those things – all those silly, stupid, and yet adorable things that the two of them – Lance and Melissa, partners in crime – tried to get him to do, like saying 'bye bye bye' and making him jump and clap wildly when his Uncle Chris would yell “Hey, ladies!”

“Mama,” Liam babbled, and pointed to the TV screen. “Dada.”

“Yeah, daddy's on TV, isn't he Li?” she said. “Isn't it cool?”

“Ris,” Liam said, pointing to the TV again as the camera cut to Chris.

“Yeah, Uncle Chris too,” she said.

“Ris saaa.”

“Uncle Chris is sad?” she asked. “You think Uncle Chris is sad, Li? Why is Chris sad?”

“No Me,” Liam said, pointing to the sock monkey. “No Me.”

Addy couldn't stop the frown from her face. Even her one-year-old son was intuitive enough to notice that Melissa was gone, and was missed.

“No Mel,” she said sadly.

“Kiss mama,” Liam said, looking up.

“You wanna give mama a kiss?” she said. “Come here baby boy.”

Her sadness quickly disappeared as Liam crawled over, climbing on top of her and gave her a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

“Liam,” she said as she giggled. “Liam, once again your daddy is a bad influence.”

She picked him up off her and turned him so that his back was on the bed, leaning down to him to lift up his shirt and blow raspberries on his stomach. She smiled as she heard him laugh wildly, squirming underneath her.

She was grateful for everything life had given her – even though she was sad that her best friend couldn't be here to see it.

Chapter 10 – Maybe It Is A Bad Thing... (Part Two)

Mel sighed, the sound of the keys clanking against the apartment's marble counter top a relief to hear.

“Ya bring my truck back in one piece?”

She could hear that he was drunk, slurring his words. Derek's voice was angry. It wouldn't be a pleasant night.

“Yes,” she said quietly.

“Better not be a ding or scratch in it or it's comin' outta your check,” he said.

She looked over to see him on the couch, his back toward her, and saw him take another swig from the bottle of beer. But it was what she saw on the television that made her eyes go wide.

“Lookit that,” Derek slurred. “Your boyfriend's on TV.”

She hadn't even gotten a chance to remove her coat, still dressed in her waitress uniform from working the closing shift at the diner, and now all she could do was stare. Derek had been watching The Tonight Show with the new host, Jimmy Fallon – and now she was staring at Chris.

“He looks like hell,” Derek said.

“He doesn't look that bad,” she whispered.

The truth was – he looked awful. The first thing she noticed was the injury. It was worse than she had imagined, seeing him walk on crutches to his seat in front of Jimmy's desk. His skin was pale and he looked like each step was painful, even though she knew he was trying not to show it on live TV. His eyes were more tired than she had ever seen.

“Don't kid yourself,” Derek said, turning his head slightly to look at her. “He's probably spending half of his time on this tour banging groupies backstage and that's why he looks that bad.”

She had to admit that the thought stung. That didn't seem like something Chris would do – even if he was so brokenhearted that he wanted to find any woman to occupy his time and keep his mind off her.

But she couldn't deny that in her eyes, that looked like the truth. He looked like he had spent a few too many nights partying – just like Derek had tried to convince her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chris hobbled out to the backstage area with the help of the crutches. The audience was still screaming and crying and clapping, even though the cameras were off now.

He thought he could do this. He had tried to put a smile on his face and pretend to be okay. After all, it was no different than going out on stage every night, singing the same damn love songs over and over, living in misery as he thought of her more and more with each lyric. It was no different than fantasizing every night that he would be in the middle of singing a song and look out into the audience to see her looking back at him – but it never happened.

It was just something that got him through. It was a coping mechanism. It was the only way he could get through this tour, knowing she was supposed to be here sharing the touring life with him in the same bunk – knowing that instead, she was somewhere else, no one knew where, sharing a bed with someone else.

Everything had been fine until Jimmy started asking him about his “girlfriend” - and he had to admit that he had no girlfriend. That it just “didn't work out”. He hated lying about it. He wanted to tell people that she had left him, that just like he and Stephanie had talked about the other day, she was probably out there somewhere scared. He wanted to tell all his fans that if they saw her, to please tell her to come home. If he could have, he would have put her face on a milk carton by now.

“So you're just going to check out on us?”

Chris looked up from the chair he had just sat down in to see Lance looking down at him.

“Knee hurts,” he said simply, not making eye contact.

“Bullshit,” Lance said. “You're so doped up on painkillers right now you could get stabbed and not feel a thing.”

“It feels sort of like that anyway,” Chris said. “And you're wrong – I do feel it.”

“Hey, you know what?” Lance asked, sitting down in a chair next to him. “I get it. I've been here before, remember?”

“She came back.”

“No, she didn't,” Lance said. “I went to her. I ran off to Los Angeles with nothing but the clothes on my back to embarrass the hell out of myself and beg her to take me back.”

“She came back the second time,” Chris said.

“Yeah, and I only had to almost die for her to come running back to me,” Lance said with a smile.

Chris couldn't help but chuckle.

“She is stubborn to a fault, isn't she?”

“To a fault? She'd risk life and limb if she had to in order to prove a point to me,” Lance said. “She left me – not once, but twice. I suffered, twice. Everyone thought it was over, twice. We're still dealing with shit and it hasn't been easy. But the point is, we're dealing, Chris. Addy and I are dealing with it because we have no choice.”

Chris sighed.

“We've both run away from so many problems in the last few years of our lives that we've realized that's not how you deal with problems. You don't run away from them. It would be so easy for us to agree that it's not working out between us and get a divorce. We've been at that point before, where we've both agreed that if that's what it takes, that's the way it is. It'd be amicable between us and we'd do our best to make sure that Liam grew up knowing that just because it didn't work out between us didn't mean we didn't love him. But we don't agree, because Addy and I want to be with each other – not just for our son, but because we love each other. So we keep going, we keep fighting to make it work. We don't just give up and run away.”

“Yeah,” Chris said. “And the difference is that Addy is here to fight. Mel's not.”

Lance was about to open his mouth to tell Chris that that wasn't the point, that the point was he couldn't stop fighting even without her – but he scooped up the crutches and started walking away.

He could have spoken up; he could have followed Chris easily, since he was essentially a cripple right now because of the knee injury, and it slowed him down. But Lance knew better. Chris had had enough for the night. He had reached his limit.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You told me we were going shopping. This doesn't look like a mall.”

Stephanie opened the door to the studio quietly, careful of making any creaky sounds and getting stopped by security guards, and looked back at her partner for the evening.

“Don't get your panties in a twist, Tiny Dancer,” she said to Courtney. “We'll go to the mall. We're making an unscheduled stop first.”

“My question is, why is our unscheduled stop to the Tonight Show studio?” she asked.

“Shh!” Stephanie turned and scolded, her finger against her lips. “You wanna get us caught and kicked out of here?”

“You're on tour with the guys,” Courtney said firmly, although lowering her tone to a whisper. “You can get backstage anywhere you want to. What's the big deal?”

“The big deal is that they don't know I'm coming,” Stephanie said. “Which means neither does security. Which means to them, you and I are just two freaks who want to get backstage to see NSYNC and are delusional enough to believe that we actually know them.”

“'Freak' and 'delusional' are fitting words for you,” Courtney countered. “Isn't Addy your partner in crime? Shouldn't it be her here instead of me? I'm just the choreographer.”

“Oh, you mean you're not Justin's little girly toy?” Stephanie said, smiling when she noticed Courtney blush slightly. “Just the choreographer, my ass. I saw you two doing a little private rehearsing of your own a couple days ago.”

“Are you blackmailing me into being into your accomplice?”

“You're damn right I am,” Stephanie said.

“You're evil,” Courtney said. “But I like you.”

“There it is,” Stephanie said, pointing towards a door.

“What?”

“The door they'll come out of. When they're done performing they'll come out of that--”

“What the hell are you two doing?”

The girls were taken by surprise, jumping slightly and shrieking when they heard the voice come from directly behind them. They turned around to see Lance staring at both of them.

“Courtney, what are you thinking?” Stephanie said, looking at her partner. “You told me you were taking me to the mall. This isn't Victoria's Secret!”

Courtney's mouth dropped open and a scoff came out, while Lance raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“Yeah, right,” he said, looking at Stephanie. “Sneaking backstage at the Tonight Show? This has your name written all over it.”

“Yeah, well, what the hell are you doing?” Stephanie countered. “You're supposed to be on stage.”

“You're supposed to be at the mall,” Lance said, “so I guess neither of us is where we should be, are we?”

“What are you doing backstage though?” Courtney asked.

“Chris had a bit of a meltdown,” Lance said. Then he looked back at Stephanie. “Just one question – usually it's you and my wife causing trouble.”

He paused, and the two women waited.

“And...?” Stephanie said.

Lance shook his head. “You know what, I...I don't want to know. It's better if I don't know. You two have fun playing Mission: Impossible...or whatever it is that you're doing.”

The two looked after him as he walked away towards the stage door. When he disappeared behind it, Courtney looked at Stephanie.

“He must know you really well, because he wasn't at all surprised.”

Stephanie smiled. “He's known me for seven years. You pick up some knowledge along that little road trip.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Performing their newest single, 'Not A Bad Thing' – NSYNC!”

The first strums of the guitar were all it took for Mel to feel the tears roll down her face. Derek had gone to bed moments earlier, after the boys had finished their interview before the last commercial break, tired of the show already. But in a moment that she knew could be likened to a form of self-harm, she had to stay up and watch them perform “her” song.

The first place the camera went was, of course, to Chris. She watched as his fingers plucked the strings on the instrument, precise in his movements. She watched obsessively as each bone, muscle, and vein in his hand twitched with the movement of the pick against the strings.

In a way, she was obsessed – but this time, it wasn't as a fan.

“All I want from you is to see you tomorrow...”

“What are the five of you up to now?”

Addy sat down first, Mel sitting next to her and sinking into the comfortable couch. They both looked in front of them to the “stage” the boys had sat up – five of the stools from Addy and Lance's dining room bar standing at attention, a guitar resting on its back on one of them next to an amplifier.

“We thought maybe you'd like a private concert,” Lance said with a smile.

“Does it include a lap dance?” Mel joked. “Because if it doesn't, I'm not that interested.”

“You need VIP tickets for that,” Justin said, smiling.

“Chris and I wrote a little song that we thought you two might want to hear,” Lance said, taking his seat on the stool directly in front of Addy.

“You wrote a song?” Mel asked, looking at Chris.

He took the guitar in his hands and sat down on the stool before looking up at her.

“For you,” he said, moving the guitar into place on his lap.

“How 'bout I be the last voice you hear tonight, and every other night for the rest of the nights that there are...”

Addy and Melissa grimaced as feedback rang in their ears from the amp, after Chris had plugged it in.

“Y'all aren't as good live as I thought you would be,” Melissa teased.

“Sorry,” Chris said. “Stupid thing.”

“Christ, Chris, get your shit together,” Justin said, a grin on his face.

“I'll smack you with this,” Chris said, lifting the neck of the guitar.

“Guys,” Addy said, getting their attention. “One performance without you two trying to kill each other. Do you think you can do that? It's not too much to ask.”

JC and Lance smirked at each other from their seats as Justin huffed, and Chris lowered the guitar back into position.

“Okay, everybody ready?” JC asked. When he got nods all around, he held up his fingers, snapping out a beat. “Three, four...”

The minute Chris started plucking the opening chords, a shiver ran through Mel's body.

“All I want from you is to see you tomorrow, and every tomorrow maybe you'll let me borrow your heart...”

“And if you fall, you'll always land right in these arms, these arms of mine...”

She couldn't take anymore. She grabbed the remote and turned the power off as she wiped away the tears.

“You're still watching that damn thing?” Derek said, scratching his bare stomach as he walked into the living room and through to the kitchen. “God, Melissa, how stupid are you?”

“Just as stupid as you tell me I am,” she replied softly.

Chris was wrong. She had fallen, but she didn't land in his arms – instead of landing in arms of safety and comfort, she had landed flat on her face into the arms of insecurity.

Maybe it had been a bad thing to fall in love with Chris after all.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Chasez!”

JC narrowed his eyebrows, hearing the harsh whisper come from somewhere behind him. Lance and Chris continued walking, slowly to accommodate the hobbling man still getting used to the crutches.

“JC!”

He heard it again and turned his head again, a smile spreading over his face as he saw the brunette with the sneaky eyes looking at him from behind a curtain.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered to Stephanie, the smile playing at his lips.

“Come run away with me,” she whispered, returning the smile.

He took a hesitant step.

“Jace.”

He looked back, seeing Lance and Chris standing with Justin, looking at him.

“You coming?” Lance asked. “The Suburban is waiting for us.”

“I'm coming,” JC said. “Just give me like, five minutes guys. I forgot something.”

“Hurry up, I wanna get back to the hotel and get some sleep,” Lance said.

“Ditto,” Justin said.

“I'll hurry,” JC said, shaking his hands towards them. “Just...wait for me, okay?”

The three of them turned, tired from their long, late night. He waited a moment until they were several feet away before he started walking toward the curtain.

The moment he pulled it back slightly, he felt the hand grab him by his shirt and push him against the wall.

“Mr. Chasez,” she said, smiling against his lips. “Keeping the boys waiting to sneak away with some groupie harlot. Naughty boy.”

He only got a moment to smile before her lips crashed against his. His lips parted as hers did. It was a feeling he hadn't gotten the chance to experience in far too long.

“Ms. Andrews,” he said when they parted. “Sneaking backstage like some teenage rebel. You naughty girl.”

“I've always liked a little adventure in my life,” she said with a smile, leaning down to kiss him once more.

“Did you sneak all the way in just to see me?” he asked.

“Nah, I came to see Joey,” she said, running a hand through his hair. “We did it in the dressing room. Then we went behind the building and smoked a cigarette. You're only the second man in my life.”

“How do I put up with you?” he asked, grinning at the feeling of her fingernails scratching against his scalp.

“'Cause ya love me,” she drawled in his ear, her Australian accent thick and heavy with seduction.

His hand reached up to grab the back of her head, pulling her face to his. He used the opportunity to turn her so that she was shoved against the wall, with him against her.

“Steph, when are we going to tell them?” he asked.

“About us?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Isn't it fun this way?” she asked. “Sneaking around like teenagers, feeling like we're doing something bad?”

“We could have more fun if we were out in the open about it,” he said, running a hand through her straight hair. “And we could still sneak away every now and then.”

“We'll tell them soon,” she said, threading her fingers through his. “Now isn't the time – especially for Chris.”

He nodded in understanding.

“I have to go before they get suspicious and come look for me,” he said. “I'll meet you later?”

“At my hotel room,” she said with a smile. “I convinced Addy to go lingerie shopping earlier. I might have picked up a little something for myself.”

“A little something for me?” he asked.

“I think you'll be quite fond of it,” she said.

“I can't wait,” he said.

He leaned down to capture her lips in one more kiss, both of them pulling away reluctantly. He closed his eyes and let his lips graze over her forehead before he released her, walking away.

She watched him disappear behind the curtain, running a finger over her lips as she smiled, still feeling his soft lips against hers.

“Are you coming?”

She was slightly startled when she heard Courtney's voice and looked up to see her peeking through the curtain.

“I've been waiting in the car for fifteen minutes,” she said.

“Yeah,” Stephanie said, unable to stop the smile on her face. “I'm coming.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You can't go to bed yet,” Derek said, his voice cutting through the darkness. “I need some pants washed.”

Melissa stood there a moment. It was almost midnight and she had to be up by seven to be in by nine to cover the late breakfast shift and lunch.

“You were home this evening,” she said simply, pulling her side of the covers back.

“Yeah, well I don't do the laundry. That's your job.”

His hand snaked over and ran along her side. A small smile crossed his face as he gave her flesh a squeeze.

“Tell you what...just get up early and do it. I want you here.”

Disconnecting. That's how she coped. Her body was there and she hated how Derek made her body respond, even if it was the last thing she wanted to do. It wasn't that he was overly romantic, but the contact was still there. Melissa knew she had to respond to him, at least pretend she was enjoying what was happening. Her head and heart knew different.

“Mel,” Chris murmured in her ear, her body pressed against the door of their apartment just after the Halloween party. His tongue ran over the shell of her ear and grinned as she shivered. “I love that,” he told her, having waited all evening to get home.

“You love what?” Her lips met his once more as she messed up his 'Tony Stark' hairdo. Melissa had promptly gotten rid of the heels once they'd gotten in the car, sighing with pleasure as she tossed them in the back seat. “I love you.”

“Love you more,” Chris argued as he tilted her neck to gently suck on the skin just under her ear. “Don't laugh,” he told her, knowing his goatee had grown out as he purposely tickled her neck. One of his hands went to her breasts, kneading it through the fabric of her bra and shirt. “Which one is this?”

Only Chris would worry about lingerie at a time like this. Melissa playfully slapped his hand away as he undid the first button.

“I think you need to take that costume off first, Kirkpatrick.”

Chris tossed the Iron Man mask on the couch and got the top part of the costume off. He watched his girlfriend as she bit her lip, watching him as he stood there and let pieces fall beside him to the floor. The only light in the room came from the lamp they left on, giving a soft glow.

“Why Ms. Potts, I do think you're blushing.”

“Mr. Stark, I don't believe I've seen you in that shirt before,” she said, looking at his dress shirt. A smile flirted on her lips as she took a step toward Chris. It was a black button-up shirt, with a black tie. Nothing exciting except the fact that he looked good in black. Her hands went to his tie and undid it, letting it hang on both sides of his shirt. “Well played, Kirkpatrick.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Weston.”

“Kiss me,” Derek growled, not waiting for a response before crushing his mouth to hers. Melissa knew better than to say or do anything to make it seem like she didn't like it. The last time she'd said something, there had been a hole punched in the wall. Although that had been a long time ago, she never forgot. It was a learning lesson. One that was being put to use now, as she put effort into sex.

“That's it...mmmm...Chris.”

Her fingers dug into his shoulders as her eyes shut on their own. His breath was hot on her ear, each grunt and moan from him turned her on more. One of her hands went to his hair and Melissa yanked, smirking when he growled.

“Biting and pulling hair...naughty girl,” Chris warned, nipping Melissa's neck harder as she pulled again on his hair. Their bodies were entwined and he was buried inside her with her legs around him to give him better leverage. It had taken a while to get her to open up about what she liked with sex, but Chris had reassured her that it was good to like being intimate. And that he was as good of a student as a teacher.

Her body responded to his, that familiar coiling in her stomach as she let go, shuddering hard as she came, calling out Chris's name.

She was breathing hard, her body betraying her once more. Derek had rolled off her to clean up a bit and pull his underwear back on. Melissa laid there, trying not to sniffle as she listened to him come to bed. The next day at work would be hell, knowing she wouldn't sleep well tonight.

Chapter 11 – Breaking the Rules

Justin yawned as he opened the door to his bus “bedroom”, scratching his stomach. He had groaned when he woke up inexplicably, noticing that the clock said it was already past two in the morning.

He shuffled out to the dinette area, hoping he would find something to drink in the fridge that would put him back to sleep. After their bus had broken down in Canada, they had managed to get better buses – more like RVs, so that now each of them had their own small room. It was nothing like their own homes, but it was nicer and a lot more private, and made all of them feel a little more at home – especially Addy.

He thought he was the only one awake on the bus. He knew that Liam would be passed out in his travel crib, and he thought Addy and Lance would be catching some sleep as long as they could, with Liam still getting used to being on the road and waking up every few hours. So he was surprised when, just after he opened the refrigerator, he heard hushed arguing behind their closed door.

He moved closer to the door and leaned in, putting his ear up against it.

“Why are you taking it out on me?” he heard Addy say.

“Because I'm upset, that means I'm taking it out on you?” Lance responded.

“I'm the one you're yelling at, Lance.”

“I'm not yelling,” he said.

“Close enough,” she responded to him. “You act like it's my fault I'm not pregnant yet.”

Justin's eyes went wide, and he moved his head away from the door a moment.

“Don't go there tonight, Addy.”

“Go where, Lance?” Addy responded to his warning tone. “That it's obviously one of us that is to blame? And of course it's me, because that makes the most sense...”

“That's where,” Lance said, clearly raising his voice. “That, right there. You have this idea in your head that your body doesn't work right, and now because I'm upset that you're not pregnant yet after all this trying, you want to put words in my mouth and make it so that I'm saying the same thing. Don't take your insecurities and put the blame on me.”

“Then don't take your frustrations out on me.”

“I had plans,” he said. “You of all people should understand that.”

“And aren't you the one who told me three years ago that you can't plan life?” she asked. “That it's all one big jumbled, crazy mess of whatever happens? You can't predict it and you can't change it?”

“You and me, Addy!” he yelled. “No one could have planned you and me – but people plan to have babies all the time!”

“Lance, it's really not a big deal,” she said. “So maybe we can't have another baby. It's not the end of the world.”

“You act like you don't even want to have any more kids.”

“I do,” she said, her voice tense. “But I don't want this stress of trying to have more and not getting pregnant to end up tearing us apart and leaving Liam from a broken home.”

“So what are you saying?”

“We've been trying, and trying, and trying, Lance,” she said. “I've been doing this for a year – and I'm tired of every month, taking pregnancy test after pregnancy test. I'm tired of getting let down. Now you're on tour, and...I think we should take a break from it.”

Justin got a chance to let everything sink in when they both went silent behind the door. He knew Addy and Lance had been fighting a lot lately – hearing some of their other arguments at night when they didn't know he couldn't sleep – but he had no idea it all came down to having another baby.

“Take all the time you need, Ad,” he finally heard Lance say.

“What does that mean?”

“I'm done.”

Justin went slack-jawed, not believing what he was hearing.

“Done with what exactly?” she asked. “Done with this, or done with me?”

Justin waited for the answer, but all he heard was silence – until Addy spoke up.

“I guess I'll sleep in the lounge tonight.”

Justin heard her light footsteps and panicked, taking a seat in the padded booth that made a good stand-in for their kitchen table, trying to pretend that he had been there all along.

When she opened the door and walked out, he couldn't stop his mouth from dropping open again. He had been around Addy enough to be comfortable with her, but nowhere near comfortable enough to see her in only a lacy bra and panties, covered by a flimsy, silky robe that she let hang wide open.

“Addy...”

“Jesus!”

She shrieked and turned quickly, causing him to jump as well.

“Uh, Addy, um...robe,” he said, averting his eyes.

“Oh Jesus,” she said, realizing how much she was revealing, quickly closing her robe. “Justin, what the hell are you doing out here, sneaking around?”

“Um, I live on this bus,” he said with a chuckle. “Kind of like you and Lance.”

“Shouldn't you be in bed?” she asked.

“Shouldn't you?”

“I probably should be,” she said.

“What the hell was that all about?” he asked.

“What was what about?”

“Addy, I heard you,” he said. “You and Lance. Fighting. Again. I heard some of the things you were saying too.”

She sighed.

“The lingerie. You not taking your anxiety medication. You never having a drink when we go out,” he said. “You're trying to have another baby, aren't you?”

“Justin, you should go to bed...”

“Addy, answer me.”

“Yes,” she said forcefully. “Yes, we are, okay? Can we not talk about this?”

“The only reason you wouldn't want to talk about it is because it's not going well, and you're afraid,” Justin said.

“Yeah, I am afraid,” she said. “I'm afraid that it's all happening again. And I'm stressed because of this tour, and...Mel...”

She sighed as she looked away.

“I have something that might take your mind off it,” he said with a smile.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This probably isn't exactly recommended for trying to get pregnant, you know.”

Justin laughed looking at Addy as she put the joint to her mouth and inhaled anyway.

“Doesn't look like that's stopping you,” he said.

“Am I a bad mom?” she asked, letting the smoke filter out of her mouth.

“Why do you ask me that?” he said.

“I'm dragging my one-year-old on a cross-country tour, letting him sleep in a Pack N' Play on a moving bus or a hotel room every night,” she said. “I should be arranging play dates and finding preschools for him – and instead I'm somewhere between Georgia and Alabama sitting here with you at three in the morning in a bra and panties smoking pot.”

“You analyze things way too much, Ad,” he said. “Your son is with family, people he loves and trusts. He gets to see his dad every night, which is a lot better than his dad being gone all the time on the road. And smoking weed once in a while isn't going to kill anybody, especially since Li isn't even in the room.”

“Lance might once he finds out though,” she said.

He smiled. “He won't kill you if you don't kill him. He smoked with me three weeks ago at four in the morning when he couldn't sleep.”

“And that little bastard didn't even bother to wake me up,” she said, causing him to laugh as she handed the joint to him. “I haven't done this since college.”

“You smoked pot in college?” he said in disbelief.

“You act surprised,” she said.

“Coming from the good little girl who threatens to wash my mouth out with soap every hour, yeah it sort of surprises me,” he said.

“I had a rebellious stage,” she said. “When my parents died, I had to grow up fast. And when my grandma died, I just...sort of fell apart.”

“Is that when it all started?” he asked. “I mean, all this, with you and the anxiety and...well, the way you are.”

“I guess so. I never really had a lot of family,” she said with a shrug. “My dad was an only child, and my grandpa died when I was a baby. My mom had a brother but she stopped talking to him and her parents before I was even born. So when I lost my grandma, I lost pretty much the last person I had ever grown up with. So yeah, I kind of lost it. I started worrying about who would die next – I sort of became one of those end-of-the-world people. I expected people around me to die. It gave me anxiety. Then it developed into anxiety about everything else. I learned to deal with it until my daughter died, and then the panic attacks started.”

“Well, this,” he said, holding up the joint in his hand, “will chill you.”

She chuckled. “Justin, nothing chills me. This just...makes me not care enough about the shit I'm worrying about.” She paused. “And it makes me hungry.”

“Chips,” he said, pointing a finger at her as he exhaled and handed the joint back over to her. “There's chips in the cabinet. I know I saw 'em the other day.”

“What flavor?”

“Does it matter?” he asked.

“Hell no, but I thought I might as well ask.” He lifted himself off the carpet of the lounge while she took a last puff and smashed the end of the joint out in the ashtray next to her, quickly doing the same to follow after him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh, fuck.”

Justin adjusted the sunglasses snugly against his face as he stepped off the bus. It had finally stopped in Greensboro at 7:30 that morning and the sun was in full-on assault mode.

“Is it possible for the sun to shine this brightly?” Addy said, squinting before she did the same with her own sunglasses. “Or is it the apocalypse?”

“This is how it starts,” Justin said, roughly pulling his bag off the bus by dragging it along the ground. “The fires of Hell are actually the sun burning our retinas.”

“It's your own fault you two are dragging ass this morning,” Lance said, Liam holding tightly onto his neck. “I smelled the lounge this morning. The bus reeks like a frat house. Pot, guys? Really?”

“Pull the stick out of your ass, dad,” Justin said. “We couldn't sleep. It's called 'medical marijuana'.”

“Yeah, that'll hold up in court,” Lance said. “Hope Johnny doesn't have to sleep on our bus anytime soon. He's gonna kick your asses.”

“Johnny'll probably join us,” Justin said with a smirk.

“Coffee,” Addy growled. “Coffee. Now.”

“I'm with Addy,” Justin said. “From one vice to another.”

Lance shook his head. “You two are worse put together than one of JC.”

Lance shook his head again when Addy walked off and Justin flipped him a middle finger, not bothering to glance back.

He was about to grab his bag off the bus when his phone rang from his pocket.

“God damn it,” he said, adjusting the clingy child in his arms to reach into his pocket. He pulled the phone out, but with his arms loaded down, didn't bother to look at the ID. “Hello?”

“Lance?”

“Yes,” he said, the voice familiar, but he was unable to place it. “I'm sorry, who is this?”

“Joe Abrams.”

“Detective,” Lance said, slightly stunned.

Hearing the word come from Lance's mouth, Addy and Justin both turned their heads to look at him, glancing at each other for only a moment before dropping their bags to the ground and rushing over to where Lance stood.

“What is it?” Addy said. “Is it Mel?”

“I'm sorry to call you at such an early hour,” the detective said.

“What's going on?” Justin asked.

“Lance,” Addy urged.

Lance narrowed his eyes at both of them and held up a hand to hush them.

“It's fine, Joe,” he said. “We were getting off the bus in Greensboro. Is there something I can help you with?”

“No, but there is something I can help you with,” he said in return. “I got the handwriting analysis back on the samples you gave me.”

Lance quickly adjusted the child on his hip and lowered the phone, hitting the speakerphone button, and held the phone out between the three of them.

“Sample A was the birthday card you brought me as a sample of her handwriting under normal conditions, while Sample B was the note left at the apartment the night she disappeared. The findings were that while Sample A and B matched and were written by the same person, Sample A was written with smooth lines and strokes. Sample B was found to have a lot more jagged strokes, skips in flow, and pause spots.”

“And what is that in English, Joe?” Lance said.

“In English?” Joe said. “You were right. The handwriting expert concluded that there was a high chance that Melissa wrote the note under extreme distress.”

“So she didn't run away on her own accord?” Addy said, interrupting.

“I can't say that,” Abrams said. “It's possible that at the time she wrote the note, she was upset at the prospect of leaving and could have been crying and shaking. But this rules out the possibility that she left calmly. She was upset about something. That's an absolute positive.”

“So what are you going to do?” Justin said. “I mean, what's the next step? Are you going to go look for her?”

Abrams sighed. “This doesn't change anything.”

Addy narrowed her eyebrows at the phone in Lance's hand.

“It must change something,” she said angrily. “You said we were right, Joe! If she left under distress like you say, something must be wrong!”

“Addy, please, I'm sorry,” the voice came from the other end. “You were right about the note being written under stress – but I have no evidence to conclude that foul play was involved. Nothing leads to any possibility other than Melissa was upset by something and even though it was a stressful decision, she felt the best action was to pack her things and leave.”

“So you're doing nothing?” Addy said, raising her voice even louder, attracting the attention of Joey, JC, and Stephanie, who had just stepped off the other bus. “You're just going to sit on your ass with this new information and do absolutely nothing?”

“Justin, take her,” Lance said, using a finger to switch off the speakerphone and hold the phone to his ear again.

Justin nodded, grabbing hold of Addy's arm and pulling her away as the rest of the group joined Lance.

“Let go of me,” Addy said, pulling her arm away from Justin's grasp once they had walked across the parking lot.

“You have to calm down,” Justin said.

“Calm down?” she asked, half-yelling. “My best friend is missing and the police are doing nothing about it and I'm supposed to calm down?”

“There's nothing they can do, Ad,” Justin said. “Mel isn't a missing person, and Abrams isn't a missing persons detective anyway.”

“You okay?” Stephanie said, running quickly up to both of them.

“No,” Addy said. “No, I'm not okay. I don't care if Mel isn't technically a missing person to them, or if Abrams isn't a missing persons detective. One of my best friends is missing and no one is doing anything about it. Stephanie, your dad's still a police chief, right?”

“Yeah...”

“And he'd do anything for you, even if it meant breaking a few rules, right?”

“I guess, I mean it depends--”

“Can you call him?”

“Well, yeah, but why?” Stephanie asked, exchanging a glance with Justin.

“If no one else will do anything about this,” Addy said, looking between both of them, “then I will.”

Chapter 12 – Road Trip (Part One)

Five days later – April 21, 2014 – Jackson, Mississippi

“You two. A road trip.”

Addy stared back at her husband unmoved.

“Just tell me honestly,” he said. “How much bail money do I need to plan for?”

“We'll be good,” Stephanie said, giving him a smile. “I promise.”

“Hmm,” he mumbled. “Yeah, see, that just worries me more. When you're making promises it's because you know you're doing something bad.”

“Us?” Stephanie said, linking her arm through Addy's and pulling her close. She smiled brighter. “Doing anything bad? We wouldn't.”

“Did y'all feel that?” Justin said, stopping next to Lance as he walked by them, holding his hands out and his eyes upward slightly. “That shake. Hell just froze over.”

“Don't you have an eight AM meeting with Courtney?” Stephanie said, crossing her arms over her chest. “After all, you haven't stuck your tongue down her throat yet this morning. Really don't want to miss that.”

Lance chuckled as Justin pursed his lips, throwing up his middle finger to Stephanie as he walked away.

“Where are you going that's so important?” Lance asked.

“Little Rock,” Addy said.

“And it can't wait four more days until we're doing a show in Little Rock?” he asked.

“Not that it's any of your business,” Stephanie said, “but no, it can't.”

“Addy,” Lance said, eyeing Stephanie suspiciously. “What's in Little Rock?”

“I assume a little rock or two,” Addy said, lightly shrugging. “Unless the name is totally inappropriate.”

Lance scoffed, eyeing both of them.

“I should know by now that getting the two of you together only means trouble...and sarcasm,” he said, glancing from Stephanie over to his wife. “This better not have anything to do with Abrams, Ad. We talked about this.”

Addy stayed silent. The morning of the phone call from Detective Abrams, there hadn't been a “talk” – there had been a full-fledged fight. Granted that it hadn't been any worse than some of their others they'd had over the years, but to hear the other guys talk about it, it was as if it was the ultimate showdown...especially after JC said he could hear Addy yelling from his hotel room all the way at the end of the hall.

The fight had pretty much died down by the time they got to Jackson the next day, where they met up with Lance's mom to spend a few days relaxing before Diane took off with them for the next few cities to spend time with them and help with Liam. But Lance had reminded her, in no uncertain terms, that she was not to go out and “play detective”.

What he didn't know was that she didn't intend to play.

“It doesn't,” she said with a smile. “Just going for a little girl's weekend with my best friend. I've hung around you boys for so long that Justin is starting to be a bad influence on me. You wouldn't want that, would you?”

“Let's see,” Lance said. “Bad influence from Justin, or bad influence from Stephanie? Which is worse...yep, they're pretty much equal.”

“Now, that's just insulting,” Stephanie said with a pointed finger. “I am in no way equal to Justin – I'm way better than that. Check yourself, Lance.”

“I just want to get away for a while,” Addy said. “This tour, the baby, and no offense, you boys...Lance, it's starting to get to me.”

He paused to look at her.

“I need a break,” she said. “Your mom has Liam, I'm only missing one show, and Stephanie will be gone in a week. Give me a little time to remember what a normal life is supposed to look like.”

Both girls were silent as Lance look them over. Then he sighed.

“I swear that if I get one 'do you know what your wife did' call...I'll kill you,” he said, pointing at Stephanie, “and I'll lock you up in our bedroom.”

Addy smiled at her husband as he pointed at her, knowing he was joking.

“Don't get arrested,” he continued. “And if you do get arrested...make sure there's no cameras around. They can't prove in a court of law what they can't go back in the tabloids and find.”

“There goes my Tuesday night,” Stephanie said.

“She's kidding!” Addy said with a laugh as she grabbed his arm and pulled him towards her. “She's only kidding.”

“Come on, Ad, we've gotta get going,” Stephanie said. “Traffic on North 65 can be a bitch over lunchtime and I'd like to get to Little Rock before five.”

“Four days,” Addy said to Lance, as Stephanie started grasping at her arm and pulling her away. “Only four days.”

“Ninety-six hours,” Lance replied. “You girls only need ninety seconds to wreak complete havoc.”

Adeline giggled, pulling away from Stephanie's grasp, and pushing into her husband's arms as JC walked up to them.

“I love you,” she said.

“Love you too,” he said softly. “Drive safe.”

She smiled as she pulled away, and Lance watched the two of them link arms and run out of the building to their awaiting rental car.

“How many hours does it take to get from Jackson to Little Rock?” Lance asked.

“Three or four, I think,” JC said. “Why?”

“I'm coming up with a mental estimate in my head of exactly how long it's going to be until they get in trouble,” Lance said. “I give it maybe twelve hours – sixteen if the first cop lets them off with a warning.”

“Nah, Stephanie's going,” JC said. “I give it eight, ten max.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Mel, order up.”

Melissa sighed, using the collar of her shirt to wipe the sweat that had dripped down her neck.

“Gina!”

As she reached the counter and grabbed for the plates that George had just dished for her table, both of them stopped short of what they were doing to look up as Victoria's voice loudly carried through the diner, followed by her body.

Startled, Gina turned from the table of customers she was serving.

“Vic?” she asked.

“Do ya see that television?” Victoria asked.

Melissa grasped the edges of the plates and pulled them off the metallic counter, glancing at George for only a moment as he angled his eyes downward before going back to what he was doing. Victoria had been on the warpath for several weeks; in fact, Mel could recall it starting around the same time she had been pulled back into her office and forced to show her the bruise. Gina got the brunt of most of Victoria's outbursts, mainly because Mel tried to keep her nose to the ground – and because Gina never could seem to keep herself out of trouble.

“Ya,” Gina said, stuffing her hands in her apron pocket. “Whatta 'bout it?”

“What's it playing?” Victoria asked.

“That lady Ellen's show,” Gina said.

“And why is it playing that?” Victoria asked.

“...'Cause I like that show?” Gina said, lifting her shoulders questioningly.

“So ya come to work to watch TV?” Victoria asked. “Is that what I pay you to do?”

“No, Vic, but...”

“There's a TV in this diner for the customers, Gina,” Victoria said. “The customers, not the employees. And most of our customers come to the diner to watch the game. So I want to see the game playin' on that TV in five seconds.”

“But Vic,” Gina said, even as Victoria began to walk away, “it's 11:30 on a Monday morning. There ain't no game playin' on TV.”

“Find one,” Victoria said gruffly.

Mel stepped aside as Victoria walked past her, looking behind her briefly before she turned back to look at Gina as she passed her.

“You know,” Gina said, holding a finger up to Melissa, “I think an armadilla musta crawled up'er butt.”

Melissa stifled a chuckle. “I think ya should find that clicker and turn that TV to any game ya can find 'fore Vic shoves an armadilla up your butt...and 'fore she hands ya your last paycheck.”

Gina huffed and Mel shook her head as she started walking again, heading toward her table.

“Here ya go,” she said to the couple awaiting their food, setting each plate in front of them. “One double with onion rings and one fried chicken special. Anything else I can get for ya folks today?”

The woman opened her mouth to speak up, but just as Mel had taken her order pad out of her apron pocket, a familiar voice caught her attention.

“The song's about true love, and finding it in all the places you never expected.”

She turned her head away, seeing Gina with the television remote in one hand out of the corner of her eye, to look up at the TV – surprised to see the dirty-blonde haired friend.

“Gina,” she said, slamming her order pad on the table and rushing over. “Hold on a sec.”

She ran to Gina's side, slowly lowering the remote from her hand as she fixated her eyes on the face on the screen.

“The song's about being a little damaged,” Lance said. “We're all a little damaged, in a way. But there's still someone out there who will love you, no matter how damaged you are.”

“Mmm, mmm,” Gina said, shaking her head slightly. “That boy is one southern fried dumplin' I could eat right up.”

Melissa stared at the screen affixed to the corner of the wall, ignoring Gina entirely.

“Lance, we appreciate you taking the time out of the tour to video chat with us and let us premiere your new video,” Ellen DeGeneres said.

“Our pleasure, Ellen,” Lance said. “Thank you.”

Before Melissa could adjust to seeing him on the television, the camera panned out on Ellen, and the huge screen behind her that she had just been using to video chat with him faded to black.

“Now, premiering for the first time on this show,” Ellen said into the camera, “the new single by NSYNC, 'Not A Bad Thing'!”

Mel felt her stomach drop.

“Oh my God, I love this song,” Gina said, grabbing for the remote again. “Ta hell with Vic, let's turn it up.”

“I can't,” Mel said, hearing the opening notes of the song coming up. “I gotta get back to work.”

She grasped the edge of her apron in her hand and walked back over to the table, snatching her order pad from it quickly. Closing her eyes to fight tears, she tried to walk as quickly towards the swinging kitchen doors as she could, when she was stopped by Gina's voice.

“Mel,” she said. “Ain't that you?”

Melissa stopped, quickly turning to look first at Gina, who held the remote in her hand with a shocked look on her face – then looking up at the television.

There, staring back at her, was a home video of her, Chris, Lance, and Addy – playing right in the middle of the first verse of the song. Smiling, laughing, making silly faces, generally goofing off together...reminding her, once again, of what she had left behind unwillingly.

“Oh God, no,” she whispered to herself, feeling a tear roll down her cheek.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It's goin' down, I'm yellin' timber!”

Addy smiled and shook her head as Stephanie used her elbow to nudge her, dancing animatedly in the driver's seat.

“Let's make a night, you won't remember, I'll be the one you won't forget!”

“Last time I had a night I didn't remember, I ended up sleeping with a pop star,” Addy said, aware that her friend was singing too loudly to pay any attention.

“Whooooooooooa, whooooa, whooooooooa...Addy needs to lighten up, Addy better move, Addy better dance,” Stephanie sang along with the music.

“Did you call your dad?” Addy spoke loudly over the music.

“What?” Stephanie yelled.

Addy sighed to herself, reaching over to grasp the volume button as Stephanie continued singing.

“Whoooooooooa...hey!” Stephanie yelled as soon as the volume turned down to almost a whisper. “What'd you do that for? I was kicking that song's ass!”

“Did you call your dad?” Addy asked again.

Stephanie huffed. “Can't you let loose, for even one teeny, tiny second? I'm not asking for much.”

“This is not a vacation,” Addy answered. “We have one mission, and that's not having fun or letting loose.”

“You know, you could try having fun once,” Stephanie said. “I'm pretty sure it won't make you break out in hives.”

“You could try being serious about something for once,” Addy responded. “It might hurt your brain, but I'm sure you can handle it.”

“I called my dad,” Stephanie said. “He's taking care of it, Ad. He found Paul and Catherine Weston. They live just outside Little Rock in a homey little suburb called Sherwood, Arkansas. They're living out their middle age in a three-bedroom ecru-colored house with a huge backyard and a white-picket fence and two little schnauzers named Rocko and Lucy. Happy?”

“For now,” Addy said. “Your dad seriously investigated the color of their house and their dogs' names?”

“No, I'm just pulling shit out of thin air to prove to you how ridiculously obsessed you are,” Stephanie said.

Addy sighed.

“We'll find her,” Stephanie said. “My dad promised he would work with us to do what he can, pull some strings, break a few minor laws, and help us find her. But for the next few hours, can we at least have a little fun and enjoy ourselves? Talk about something else?”

“Fine,” Addy said. “I have an idea. Let's talk about you and JC.”

“Oh God,” Stephanie said, tensing her hands against the steering wheel.

“What's going on?” Addy asked with a smile. “I may have been slightly hungover and still a little high back there in Greensboro, but I saw you and JC try to sneak away when you thought nobody was looking.”

“We were trying to save each other from the World War 3 you and Lance were declaring against each other,” Stephanie said, grinding her right hand against the wheel. “I'm still trying to figure out who was Germany.”

“You're full of crap. Lance and I may have been at each other's throats, but we never let it leave our hotel room. Aside from disturbing the entire floor with our yelling, nobody would have ever known we were fighting.”

“I never knew you could yell that loudly,” Stephanie said. “It was a proud moment, actually.”

“Talk,” Addy said, leaning in slightly towards Stephanie, as much as her seatbelt would allow. “JC. You. Now.”

Stephanie paused a moment to grind the wheel with her hand again, taking a breath.

“JC and I are...” she said. “Well...we're sort of...together.”

“Together as in, hanging out together,” Addy said, “or together as in, Stephanie spends more time in JC's bed than she does in her own?”

“The latter,” Stephanie responded. “Definitely more the latter.”

“Why didn't I know about this?”

“Well, I was going to send you an announcement, but they haven't come back from the engraver's yet,” Stephanie said.

“Hey, smartass,” Addy said. “We're supposed to be best friends. How long has this been going on?”

“I think, one or two...years...”

Addy's jaw dropped, and Stephanie quickly looked over.

“Or so,” she said, shrugging.

“Or so?”

“Since the engagement party,” Stephanie said. “I'd have told you, but you know...JC and I didn't even really know how to approach our relationship.”

“You didn't know how to approach your relationship, so you just decided to sleep together?”

“Oh yeah, you're one to talk,” Stephanie said. “I seem to remember someone who dressed up as a slutty nurse one Halloween, got drunk, and slept with her boss that she once hated.”

“Drunk is the key,” Adeline said. “Therefore it wasn't my fault, blame the alcohol.”

“Were you drunk when he knocked you up?” Stephanie said.

“You know, actually...”

Addy laughed when Stephanie rolled her eyes.

“We're not talking about me,” Addy said. “It's really your fault I ended up with Lance, anyway.”

“I liked it better when we were blaming the alcohol,” Stephanie responded.

“Is alcohol to blame for you and JC, too?”

“No,” Stephanie said, seeing the smile on her friend's face.

“You didn't have sex on our bed,” Addy said, “did you?”

“God, no,” Stephanie responded. “How classless do you think I am?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Addy said with a chuckle. “It could get pretty nasty.”

“I've suddenly decided that talking on road trips is way overrated,” Stephanie said, reaching toward the console and grabbing a CD case. “A little Jason Derulo is sure to shut you up.”

“You think you can just shut me up with my favorite singer?” Addy asked with a smile.

“I know I can,” Stephanie said, returning the smile as she popped the disc into the player.

Chapter 13 – Road Trip (Part Two)

“You sure this is the place?”

Adeline slowly released her seatbelt, letting it retract back into the seat.

“I think so,” Stephanie said as she stared at the eggshell-colored house in front of them. She let her own seatbelt retract as she stared at the green vines climbing up the lattice framing of the front porch, the blooming mums surrounding the house, and the aging white, wooden fence around the property. “That's just creepy. I really was kidding about the white-picket fence thing, you know.”

“This is the South,” Addy responded. “I'm pretty sure it's a requirement to have a white-picket fence if you're going to live in the suburbs.”

“Isn't it also a requirement in the South to own several guns in case two random strangers show up on your doorstep asking personal questions?” Stephanie asked nervously.

“I hope not,” Addy said. “I mean, Lance's parents don't own guns.”

“Lance's parents are...well, Lance's parents,” Stephanie said. “Lance wouldn't even know what to do with a gun if you gave him one.”

“I think he proved you wrong when, you know, my ex-husband broke into our house and held us at gunpoint,” Addy said. “I don't know, Mel didn't seem like the type to be raised by crazy, gun-toting parents, did she?”

“No, from what I saw at the party, a glass of bourbon was Mel's weapon of choice,” Stephanie said. “Are you sure we should be doing this? I mean, these people don't know us from Adam. What if they call the cops?”

“Well,” Addy said, resting her hand on the door handle, “Lance only said to make sure there were no cameras or paps around if we got arrested. Do you see any cameras or paps?”

Stephanie opened her mouth to answer, but Addy had already opened the door and started stepping out.

“You're really willing to scare the crap out of two people, be ostracized, and possibly be arrested or shot in order to find Melissa?” she asked as she stepped out of the driver's side door. “Addy, isn't this a little crazy?”

Addy rested her arms on top of the car, looking at Stephanie.

“What would you want me to do if one day, you went missing, Steph?” she asked.

“Let the police handle it,” Stephanie said. “And let whatever will be, just...be.”

Adeline narrowed her eyebrows.

“I refuse to leave Arkansas until I find her,” she said. “I refuse to leave until she tells me personally, from her own mouth, that she left New York because she didn't want to be with Chris. Until then...I will never believe that she left on her own, because she wanted to. You can help me, or you can choose not to. Regardless of your choice...I'm doing this.”

Stephanie jumped as Addy slammed the car door and stormed away toward the fence gate.

“And Lance thinks that I'm the crazy one,” she said to herself as she shut her car door.

She followed Addy through the gate, listening to the sound of both of their feet crunching on the gravel underneath them. She had been on board with this idea, even though from the minute Addy asked her to help she thought it was insane to put themselves out there so far to complete strangers. Now, she thought it was even more insane.

As soon as Stephanie stepped up next to her on the porch, they exchanged a brief, nervous glance, before Adeline lifted her fist to the door, knocking loudly several times.

They were both surprised when only a few seconds later, unprepared, they heard footsteps and a click, before a middle-aged brunette woman appeared at the door.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Hi,” Addy said nervously. “My name is Adeline, and this is my friend Stephanie. We're looking for Melissa Weston.”

The lady, whom Addy could see Mel's features in, cocked her head slightly as she wiped her hands on a dish towel.

“I'm sorry, Melissa isn't here,” she said. “Is there somethin' I can help ya with?”

“I apologize for being so forward,” Addy said. “Melissa is my friend – our friend. She's gone missing. I'm trying desperately to find her.”

Addy and Stephanie saw the woman's face fall slightly.

“Come in, girls,” she said, opening the door fully. “I'll make coffee. Then we'll talk.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Melissa leaned her forehead against the metal wall of the walk-in fridge, sniffling and trying to dry the tears away. Goosebumps from the cold had started to form on her skin, and she could feel the blonde hairs standing on end, but she didn't care. At least it was an escape.

It was one thing to be surprised by seeing Lance on TV that day when she didn't expect it, but it was something she could get through. Over the last month and a half, she had become numb to seeing them pop up in random places – on her television, in the magazines and tabloids while she waited in the checkout at the grocery store, on the radio while she was at work. It was something she had to get used to – not only had Gina become quite an obsessive fan of them lately, but Derek waved their presence in her face every chance he got.

But seeing the premiere of the video of the song – her song – and realizing they had put together a compilation of home videos that they had put together over the last two years...it was like a big, fat punch to the stomach.

At the same time, it felt like a cry – a cry from Addy, a cry from the boys – that they knew she would see. A message – come back, Mel.

“Melly?”

Hearing Gina's voice, Melissa quickly wiped away the stray tears before turning around.

“I'm over here,” she said, turning around and leaning her back against the metal wall, hoping to look as if she were taking a casual break.

Gina appeared in front of the stack of boxes Melissa was hiding behind.

“I's just comin' to check on ya,” Gina said. “Ya sure rushed outta there like lightnin'.”

“Just takin' my break,” Melissa said quietly.

“In the fridge?” Gina asked with a slight smile, rubbing a hand against her arm, feeling the cold.

“It was hot out there,” Melissa responded, hanging her head. “Didn't you notice I was sweatin' like an old man in a steam room?”

“No, but I sure did notice ya start crying the minute ya saw yourself on the TV,” Gina said. “Mel, tell me the truth. What's goin' on? That was you in the video, wadn't it?”

“I'm sure it was jus' someone who looked like me,” Mel said. “They say everybody has a twin, right?”

“A twin who looks jus' like ya, in an NSYNC video?” Gina asked. “I may not be the brightest light bulb in the package, but I'm not stupid enough ta believe that was a coincidence – 'specially after the way ya ran outta here cryin' like ya did.”

“What's your point, Gina?” Mel asked shortly.

“My point is,” Gina said, “Vic may have a stick up'er ass lately, but she's right. Ya showed up here in Little Rock outta nowhere, no job, no money, some big important degree from that fancy-pants school in New York. Nobody knows anythin' 'bout ya, 'bout your past, ya don't tell anyone why ya moved from New York back to podunk Arkansas when ya could've had everythin' stayin' where ya were.”

“New York wasn't everything,” Mel said. “I missed my family, I missed my friends. Nothin' to figure out, Gina.”

“You're a liar,” Gina said, stopping Mel from walking away by grabbing her arm. “Ya haven't visited your family or your friends – hell, ya haven't even talked about 'em once since ya been working here, Mel.”

“Yeah?” Melissa said, raising her voice. “So what? So I'm s'posed to go on and on and on about how wonderful my life out here is? Like I'm so fuckin' blessed now that I've left New York and moved back to 'podunk' Arkansas? I'm so fuckin' happy leavin' everything I had behind in New York?”

“I know you're not happy,” Gina said. “I can tell. All I want is for ya to talk 'bout it – 'cause ya never do.”

“What's there to talk about?” Mel said. Her voice had raised and the tears had started rolling again. “I had a beautiful apartment where I finally felt safe. I had the best friend anyone could ask for, that I could talk to about anything. Her husband was more like a brother to me, someone that had my back no matter what. I had the best boyfriend in the entire world, someone I would give my life for. Someone I loved.”

“And he loved you,” Gina said.

“Yeah, Chris loved me,” Mel responded. “And I broke his heart into a million pieces.”

“Why, Mel?

“Because I'm selfish!” Mel yelled. “'Cause I was scared. 'Cause I didn't deserve him. I didn't deserve the life he gave me. Are ya happy now that ya know, Gina?”

Melissa had started to walk away to go back to work, when Gina reached out and grabbed her upper arm tightly, twisting.

Melissa winced and cried out as Gina roughly turned her around, swiftly pulling up the sleeve of her pink work shirt, revealing the fresh bruise on her bicep.

“No, that's why ya left!” Gina yelled, twisting Mel's arm to show her the bruise. She roughly pulled the hem of the shirt out from its tucked-in position in Mel's apron, lifting it enough to reveal another bruise. “And that.”

Before Mel could stop her, she pulled at the collar of her shirt, showing a barely hidden bruise against her collarbone.

“And that,” Gina said. “Ya didn't leave because you were scared of your life in New York. Ya left because you were scared of what would happen if ya didn't come back.”

“I'm a fuckin' klutz,” Melissa responded, yanking herself away from Gina's grasp, trying to tuck her shirt back in and straighten her collar. “I trip. I fall. I run into doors. That's not why I came back to Arkansas.”

Melissa was halfway to the door when she was stopped by Gina's voice.

“We all know, Mel,” she said. “We all know what he does to ya. I know, Vic knows, George knows. We may not be fancy New Yorkers like you and your friends, and we may not be culinary school graduates or geniuses, and we may talk and act like stupid country bumpkins sometimes – but we're smart enough ta know that you're trying to pull the wool over our eyes. And failin' miserably at it.”

Melissa pursed her lips, her hand on the fridge door handle.

“I've got work to do,” she said, glancing back, but not connecting eyes with her coworker. “We both do. So I suggest ya get back to it and mind your own business, Gina.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So this is what life outside the Big City looks like.”

Adeline glanced over and narrowed her eyes at Stephanie.

“Mind the few manners your mother taught you,” she said. Then she glanced over at the man in the recliner across from them, smiling. “I apologize for her.”

“It's not a problem,” Paul said with a smile. “I'm sure it's different, you guys bein' from the city, not bein' used to a simpler lifestyle.”

“I guess it is different,” Adeline said, looking at her surroundings. Paul and Cathie's home was...different from what she was used to. Where Lance had hung their friend Michael's art on the wall above their entertainment center, Paul and Cathie had flowered swags with a gallery of family photos in matching wooden frames. Where Addy was used to sitting on her own leather couch, she now sat on a couch with a fading floral pattern. “I think I've lived in the city so long I forgot what a suburban home looked like.”

“How long has Melissa lived in New York?”

Adeline looked up, seeing Paul's sad eyes.

“Um...a couple years?” she said. “She said she moved there about three months before Lance and I moved back from Los Angeles. That was May...2012.”

“Two years,” Cathie said, coming back into the living room from the kitchen, carrying four mugs on a tray. “Mercy.”

Adeline took the hot mug of coffee from Cathie with a whispered 'thank you'.

“I'm sorry if it's rude of me to ask,” Stephanie said, taking the mug that Cathie offered her, “but...you weren't aware your daughter was even living in New York to begin with?”

“Melissa hasn't spoken to us in over four years,” Cathie said, taking a mug herself and handing one over to her husband, before taking a seat in another recliner across from him. “We're lucky if we hear bits and pieces.”

“We were as shocked as anyone when her teenage cousin saw her on that awards show last year,” Paul said. “With that man.”

“Chris,” Adeline said, reaching into her purse, rifling around for her phone. “His name is Chris.” She unlocked her screen and went to her photos, scrolling through several photos of Liam before she landed on the last photo she had taken of Mel and Chris, at a club. She lifted the phone, placing it in Paul's line of sight. “Chris Kirkpatrick. Her boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Stephanie corrected.

“Not by choice,” Adeline said.

“I'm sorry – not by choice?” Cathie asked.

Adeline and Stephanie glanced at each other.

“We think Melissa may not have left of her own free will,” Stephanie said reluctantly.

“You mean...kidnapped?” Paul said, alarmed.

“We don't know that,” Stephanie said, lifting a hand to calm both tense parents. “The circumstances she left under are...suspicious. At least to Addy.”

“She left a note,” Addy explained. “But Lance and I had a detective, a friend of ours, analyze it.”

“I don't understand,” Cathie said. “If she wasn't kidnapped, if she left on her own, why would the police be involved?”

“They're not,” Addy said with a sigh. “It was only a favor. The police refuse to get involved.”

“The handwriting analysis showed she was under distress when she wrote the note,” Stephanie said. “But nothing more. It doesn't mean that she didn't leave on her own.”

Paul and Cathie exchanged a look, and Cathie briefly looked down at her feet before setting her mug on the coffee table and standing.

“It had ta have been him,” Cathie said.

Adeline watched her walk to the bookcase and run her finger along a few of the spines of the book before coming to a thick, fabric-covered photo album, pulling it out.

“We haven't spoken ta Melissa in four years because of him,” she said, sitting back down and cracking open the spine of the album. “Derek. Melissa's ex-boyfriend. If she's run, you can bet your life that he's involved somehow.”

Cathie sat the photo album on the coffee table, spinning it around and pushing it toward Addy and Stephanie.

“He's always involved somehow,” Cathie said with a whisper.

Both girls leaned in to the table, and Stephanie was the first to gasp when she saw the pictures. Melissa was barely recognizable, between the bruised cheek and the black eye that was swollen shut. Red marks and bruises covered her arms and torso, perfectly shaped like fingerprints. Her ribs...

“Oh my God,” Adeline said, covering her mouth.

“That was a little over a year ago,” Cathie said. “She's the poster child for an abusive relationship. We ran out of money – and hope – a long time ago, trying ta help her. Not for lack of caring. We love her more than words can express.”

“He's got her twisted around his finger too tight for her ta listen to anyone,” Paul said. “He was sent ta prison after that episode happened. He got two years in prison. Two years.”

Adeline could see in his eyes how much it bothered him – anger, frustration, and helplessness.

“He must have gotten parole,” Cathie said. “Overcrowding in prisons, good behavior and all that.”

“Have you talked to her at all?” Addy asked. “Do you have any leads to where she might be?”

“Your guess is good as ours,” Cathie said. “Adeline, darlin', there's something you have to understand about Melissa. When she's under his control...”

There was an eerie silence that fell over the room.

“She's not Melissa anymore,” Paul finally said. “She's not our daughter when she's with him.”

Once again, the room went silent, Cathie hanging her head.

“Addy, I think we should go,” Stephanie said, her voice soft.

“Just one more question,” Addy said. “I'll be leaving on Friday night and in less than two weeks the boys and I will be halfway across the country on tour. I can't leave Arkansas until I see Mel and I know that she's okay. She's shut down her Facebook and Twitter accounts and changed her cell number. Where might she hang out? Work? Anything you can give me.”

Paul and Cathie exchanged a glance, but remained quiet.

“Please,” Addy said. “I need to know.”

“I'm sorry, Adeline,” Cathie said. “I'll walk you girls to the door.”

Cathie pushed herself out of her chair, and Stephanie quickly followed suit, lightly grabbing Addy by the arm to urge her to do the same. Her heart fell to her feet, the thought of leaving the house without any information more than she could bear.

Despite it, she shouldered her purse, glancing once again at the photo album on the table.

“Would you mind if I take one of these pictures?” she quickly asked, looking at Paul, who sat stone-faced in the chair. “I'd like to show it to my friend, the detective. It might be the push he needs to open an official investigation.”

Paul stared at Adeline a moment, before lightly nodding.

“Thank you,” she said softly, leaning down to pull the photo of Melissa's swollen, black eye and cheek out of the sleeve. She slipped it into her purse quietly, nudged next to her wallet in the hope that it wouldn't bend before she placed the strap on her shoulder again and followed Stephanie to the door.

Cathie opened the door, nodding politely as the girls walked out, but Adeline was surprised when she followed them outside, closing the door behind her.

“Melissa always had an interest in food. Cooking, baking,” she said, out of nowhere. “When she was sixteen, she worked part-time at this little dinette in downtown Little Rock, near the drive-in theater. Dinette's closed down now, so's the drive-in.”

Both girls were silent as Cathie paused.

“If you're gonna find her, you'll probably find her working at some diner,” she finally said. “A quiet, hole-in-the-wall type of place, tryin' ta hide away. Somewhere he can watch her every move. Be careful, girls.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Weston,” Addy said.

Cathie reached out, pulling Stephanie into a hug, then Adeline.

“Bless you, Adeline,” she said in Addy's ear, squeezing slightly. “Thank you for what you're doing.”

Adeline wanted to respond, but didn't; what could you say to a mother who was at a loss for how to help her own daughter?

“Drive carefully, girls,” Cathie finally said, releasing Addy. “Little Rock may not be New York, but it has its own dangers.”

“We will, Mrs. Weston,” Stephanie said.

As she backed away and started to turn back towards the door, Adeline thought she saw tears in Cathie's eyes, confirmed when she sniffled.

“Don't be a stranger,” Cathie said, before opening the door and disappearing back into the house.

The girls were quiet as they slowly turned, stepping off the concrete porch and onto the white gravel that lined the sidewalk.

“Hope you got what you wanted,” Stephanie said, her wedge heels crunching on the rocks. “'Cause you just gave that poor mother a one-way ticket to reliving her hellish nightmare.”

Addy only sighed as she followed a few feet behind Stephanie, toward the car.

Chapter 14 – Road Trip (Part Three)

Three days later – Thursday, April 24, 2014

Melissa was startled away from her book and lunch plate when she heard a loud smack on the table in front of her, feeling a whoosh of air. She looked up to see Gina staring at her, arms across her chest.

“Hi,” Mel said.

“Open it,” Gina said.

“What is it?” Mel asked, looking at the envelope in front of her.

“Well, if ya'd open it, ya'd find out,” Gina said.

Mel put one more forkful of her chicken salad in her mouth before dropping her fork to the plate, picking up the envelope. She watched Gina sit down in the booth across from her with a smile on her face as she opened the already torn flap.

As she pulled the slips of paper out of the envelope and saw the words written on them, she almost sucked a piece of lettuce down her throat taking in a sharp breath.

“Tickets to the concert tomorrow? And meet-and-greet passes?” she said, wide-eyed.

“Jealous?” Gina asked, smiling.

“Maybe a small part of me,” Melissa said.

“Well don't be,” Gina said. “Who do ya think the second ticket's for?”

“Oh no,” Mel said, shaking her head and shoving the tickets back towards her coworker.

“Ya just said you were jealous!” Gina said.

“I said a small part of me was jealous – maybe,” Mel said. “A sliver of envy doesn't equate to me agreeing to go.”

“Ya gotta,” Gina said. “Ya gotta talk to him, Mel.”

“First of all, I don't 'gotta' do anything. Second of all, I work tomorrow night, and there's no way Vic'll--”

“How stupid do ya think I am?” Gina asked. “I ordered the tickets a month ago and requested off for both of us after I got the confirmation email.”

“There's...absolutely no way Derek will let me go,” Mel said, stuttering.

“That's why you're gonna lie ta him.”

Mel's eyebrows raised.

“Or more appropriately, that's why I'm gonna lie ta him,” Gina said with a smile. “Jason has a poker game tomorrow night with the boys. He already invited Derek ta join 'im. He was reluctant at first, but he was persuaded by the idea of all the alcohol.”

“He'll never fall for it,” Mel said.

“Already did,” Gina said. “Game starts at seven. The boys always say they're gonna go 'til midnight, but one in the morning comes around and they're all still there, tryin' ta win back their money. He'll be occupied 'til two in the mornin', darlin'.”

“He's never gonna let me go out alone.”

“He thinks you're workin', hon,” Gina said with a smile. “You ain't goin' out.”

“Gina, he's gonna check my paycheck,” Mel said. “When he sees I didn't make any money for that time...”

“Who said ya weren't makin' any money for that time off?”

Melissa's eyebrows knit in confusion. “But...”

“I think Vic pulled that armadilla outta her rear-end,” Gina said, winking. “She's doin' ya a favor – just don't expect too many 'a those, ya know.”

Mel felt her nerves kick in. “Gina, I just don't think I can...”

“Did I forget ta show ya who's the special guest at the show?”

Gina pushed the tickets back toward Mel.

“No way,” Mel said, looking back down at the tickets. “Celine Dion?”

“Ya can push yourself as far away from Chris as ya can manage,” Gina said, “but can ya really push yourself away from Celine Dion? 'Cause, isn't she one 'a your favorite singers?”

Mel smiled. “No, I guess I can't.”

“I thought so,” Gina said. She gathered the tickets up, putting them back in the envelope. “Leave the house in your uniform an' meet me here at the diner at four. Ya can change inta your concert clothes here. Wear somethin' pretty – you know, for meetin' Celine Dion an' all.”

“Right,” Mel said. “For meetin' Celine Dion an' all.”

“Concert starts at seven – but Jason's pickin' up Derek at six, just in case.”

Mel nodded, watching Gina scoot out of the booth.

“Gotta get ta work 'fore Vic decides she's had enough 'a bein' nice for the week.”

“Hey, Gina?”

Gina stopped, looking back at Mel.

“I'm sorry about the other day, yelling at you,” Mel said. “I just--”

“Aww darlin',” Gina said. “Don't worry 'bout it. We're good. I got three older brothers. I've been getting' yelled at worse than that my whole life.”

Melissa chuckled as Gina smiled at her before turning and walking toward the back, her hoop earrings swinging against her cheeks.

She picked up her fork, taking another bite of her salad, but that was when the nerves kicked in. As she swallowed, she could feel the flutter in her stomach. It was one thing to have tickets to the concert, and another to have meet-and-greet passes, and entirely another to know that she would get the chance to meet Celine Dion.

But somehow, it was far more intimidating to know that at some point in the night, she would be in the same room as Chris. She knew she may have to come face-to-face to him as well, if she had no choice – and Gina would almost certainly give her no choice.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Been around the world, don't speak the language...But your booty don't need explaining...All I really need to understand is...When you talk dirty to me...”

Adeline watched the people on the dance floor, moving and swaying to one of her favorite songs. She lifted the margarita glass to her lips, letting the slushy ice of the frozen strawberry drink hit her lips and slide smoothly down her throat. It made her shiver slightly, feeling goosebumps cover her shoulders, only wearing a black, backless halter top.

“Where should we look next?” she asked, turning her head to look at Stephanie seated in the booth across from her.

Stephanie only shrugged, pulling the toothpick out of her martini and putting the speared green olive in her mouth.

“Alright, the silent treatment has officially graduated high school,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It's old. Are you ever going to talk to me again?”

“I'm not giving you the silent treatment,” Stephanie said, pulling the toothpick out of her mouth, the olive still in place. “If I was giving you the silent treatment, you'd know I was giving you the silent treatment because you wouldn't have heard my beautiful voice echo through your ears once in three days.”

“'Yes', 'no', and 'hold your panties, I'm in the shower' aren't conversation with you,” Addy said. “They're you just being...your ever-present, lovely self.”

“Have you ever noticed how chauvinistic this song is?” Stephanie asked, pointing a finger to the ceiling. “I mean, it's all about fucking foreign women. It's gross. And yet...you can't help but like it.”

“Okay?” Adeline said.

“We had a conversation,” Stephanie said. “There. Problem solved.”

“You know, you're sort of like a toddler,” Addy said, smiling slightly. “Only you're worse – toddlers have no concept of sarcasm and it's easy to outwit them. You can actually be sarcastic and childish, yet form a crafty argument at the same time. And I would know – 'cause I have a toddler.”

Stephanie only lifted the glass to her lips, taking a sip of the clear alcohol.

“Are you jealous?” Addy said.

Stephanie smiled, wiping a drop of alcohol from the corner of her lips. “Jealous? What exactly would I be jealous of again? I want to answer honestly.”

“That I'm dragging you all over Little Rock looking for my best friend,” Addy said. “My best friend that isn't you. That I'm spending all this time and energy looking for someone that I've spent more time with in the past two years than I have with you.”

Stephanie chuckled. “No. Just...no. I'm not jealous.”

“Seems odd, since you've been against this whole thing from the beginning. And since you've been angry the whole trip.”

“Angry? No,” Stephanie said, leaning up slightly. “Jealous? No. Worried about you? Uh, yeah. You're chasing a ghost and you refuse to let it go. It's on the edge of becoming ridiculous.”

“It's ridiculous to search for a missing person?” Addy asked.

“It's ridiculous to search for a missing person who probably went missing for a reason,” Stephanie said. “For a good reason. Who probably wouldn't have gone unless some small part of her actually wanted to. Who probably doesn't want to be found. We've searched every diner, big and small, in this whole damn town and not one person has even heard of Mel. How do we even know she's here, Addy? She could be in fucking Alaska for all we know.”

“No one runs without a reason,” Addy said. “But usually that reason compels you to run towards comfort. And nothing provides comfort like home.”

“So...that must be what compelled Mel to leave Arkansas and run to New York in the first place, right?” Stephanie said. “No family, no friends, no ties...wait, I know! She must have lived in the apartment across from Lance in a previous life and her subconscious told her to run there for comfort!”

“Snark isn't a good look for you, as usual,” Addy said. “She did run toward comfort. She ran toward the comfort of a huge city with millions of people where it'd be close to impossible for her ex-boyfriend to find her.”

“And yet,” Stephanie said, holding her glass to her lips, “he did.”

“If he can find her in a city with a population of over eight million people, we can find her in a city with under two-hundred thousand,” Addy said.

“Well, good luck with that,” Stephanie said, placing her glass back on the table after taking a sip. “You've got less than a day left. It's already nine, the boys will be on the road in three hours, Lance will be checking into his hotel room by five AM, you don't want him to know what you've been up to the past four days, and there's probably a couple mile stretch of the city you haven't covered at least. You'd better get to work. But me? I'm gonna go dance.”

Adeline watched Stephanie scoot out of the booth.

“You're welcome to join me if you'd like,” Stephanie said. “Fun. It does a body good.”

Adeline pursed her lips as she watched Stephanie walk away toward the dance floor, finding a place in the crowd, lifting her arms to slip in between dancing clubbers. She was narrowing her eyes and reaching for her drink when her cell phone went off, vibrating against the table.

“Hello?” she answered, raising her voice to be heard above the music.

“Hey, I only have a minute, we're between sets,” Lance said. “Where are you at?”

“Some nightclub,” she said, plugging a finger in her ear to hear better. “Discovery something? Steph dragged me.”

“Sounds good.”

She could hear his breath labored, and could see him in her mind's eye, wiping the dripping sweat off his face and taking a long swig out of a water bottle backstage.

“You were right,” he said. “You did need a few days away from the madness. Drunk yet?”

She smiled. “Why?”

“The thought of you out there, just a little tipsy, dancing like you do...”

His voice trailed, and she could almost hear the smile in his voice.

“Might be enough to get me through the rest of this show until I can see you,” he finished.

“I'm not drunk yet,” she said, picking up her glass. “But I'm getting there.”

“Gotta get back to the show,” he said. “Get drunk, Addy. Dance. Have some fun.”

“I'm just about to,” she said. “Good luck with the rest of the show.”

She hung up the phone, knowing he wouldn't say goodbye because he needed to rush back to the stage. She lifted her glass to her lips, taking a long sip, cleaning the rest of the glass before pushing it to the center of the table and scooting herself out of the booth.

“Thought you were opposed to fun?” Stephanie yelled as Addy maneuvered through the crowd of clubbers toward her.

“You wanted me to have fun,” Addy yelled. “Now shut up and dance with me.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Friday, April 25, 2014

“Heard you had fun last night.”

Adeline looked up from her coffee at Joey, sitting across from her, smirking.

“Maybe an iota,” she whispered, holding her fingers up a couple centimeters from each other. “Can you lower your voice a little?”

“Hey party girl!”

Adeline winced as Justin yelled in her ear, smiling as he slipped into the seat next to her.

“Ow,” she said.

“First pot, then drunken nightclub debauchery,” he said, shaking his head. “Tisk, tisk. Joe, our good girl's gone bad.”

“How do you know there was any debauchery involved?” she asked, her voice still low, accounting for her pounding head.

Justin only smiled, before reaching into his pocket. He pulled out his phone, fiddling with it for a moment, before turning it and placing it in front of her face.

“Watch Addy prove that that last shot was a really bad idea,” Stephanie said, from the video playing on his phone screen.

She heard some rustling and a light voice asking another club-goer if he would hold the phone for her, before she saw the two of them come back on the screen.

“Tell me what ya drank, tell me what ya think...come on Steph, show me what ya got!”

Adeline closed her eyes, watching herself dancing and grinding to the music of “Bottoms Up” in the background, grabbing Stephanie's hand before pulling them together to dance.

“Oh God,” she said. “I don't do that. It's her fault.”

Stephanie, who sat next to Joey with a plate of eggs and pancakes, looked up to see Addy pointing at her.

“I sure as hell didn't pour those last four Jello shots down your throat,” she said. “Don't blame me because you're a chronic idiot when you're drunk.”

“You know,” Justin said, “I think my favorite part is when 'Hot In Herre' starts playing and you literally try to start taking your clothes off.”

“Please tell me someone stopped me,” Addy said.

“I stopped you before security could,” Stephanie said. “You're welcome.”

Adeline sighed in relief, but then paused.

“How'd you get the video?” she asked Justin.

Justin only smiled, turning his head to look at Stephanie. Adeline turned to look, and hearing the silence, Stephanie looked up.

“What?” she said. “Lance said don't get arrested. He didn't say anything about sending out the video if you nearly got arrested.”

“Thank God my vacation is over,” Adeline said sarcastically, holding her aching head. “I almost missed you guys.”

“Shape up, soldier,” Justin said, patting Addy on the back. “It'd be a shame if you got the chance to meet Celine Dion and you missed it because you were hurling in the toilet.”

Adeline groaned. “Charming.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You all ready, darlin'?”

Melissa looked up in the bathroom mirror, glancing at Gina behind her. She smoothed down scoop-neck navy blue dress, loosening the fabric sash from her sick stomach.

“I can't do this,” she said.

“Yeah, ya can,” Gina said, pulling the skin-tight fabric of her short black dress down slightly. She lifted a hand, gingerly fixing a stray piece of hair back into the bun of her curly hair. “Ya just go in, say 'Hey, Chris, long time no see,' and ask for an autograph like nothin's changed.”

“It's like a hundred degrees in here,” Mel said, feeling the anxiety making her sweat. “How are you even considering wearing that dress without dying in it?”

“'Cause I ain't as nervous as you,” Gina responded with a smile. “And I'm hopin' that even though the first Southern fried dumplin' is happily married and accounted for...the other Southern fried dumplin' ain't.”

Mel noticed the corner of Gina's mouth turn up in a smile.

“Come on, let's go,” she said, grabbing Mel by the arm and pulling her toward the bathroom door. “'Fore you lose the last nerve you've got.”

Chapter 15 – My Heart Will Go On

“Insanity.”

Stephanie watched Adeline twist, turn, and maneuver herself backstage, noticing that she had gone into her full “panic” mode.

“Pure insanity,” Adeline said, reaching for a shirt that one of the boys had discarded, while dipping out of the way of a young man moving backstage. “Each show isn't insane enough, you know? With all the choreography and the meet-and-greets and the pyrotechnics and trying to keep someone from getting hurt every time they insist on the hackey ritual. Add Celine into the mix and she comes with her own personal fucking crew of like, a thousand people.”

“Well, she is Celine,” Stephanie said.

“She has her own orchestra.”

“She has her own orchestra?” Stephanie said, her face scrunching.

“We're talking, like, Philharmonic or Carnegie Hall,” Addy said. “I had to get coffee for her personal flutist.”

“Flautist,” Stephanie said. “They're actually called a flautist, properly.”

“Flutist, flautist, who gives a God damn? It's no less annoying for me.”

“Why does Celine need her own orchestra for an NSYNC concert?” Stephanie asked.

Adeline sighed when another man in the extra crew tried to walk past her, accidentally bumping into her.

“It was Chris's idea,” Adeline said. “And I may kill him for it.”

“But, why would Chris request that Celine have an orchestra?”

“It was for Mel,” Addy said. “She's performing three songs with them – 'That's The Way It Is', 'Because You Loved Me', and 'My Heart Will Go On'. All three of Mel's favorite songs.”

“Oh boy,” Stephanie said.

“Precisely,” Adeline said with an annoyed glance.

“The flautist and orchestra are for...”

“'My Heart Will Go On'. And you know, at first, I was like, 'Awwww Chris, that's so romantic'. And I'm all for romance. But right now?”

“I would say more homicidal than romantic,” Stephanie said.

“Now, I have to go check on Mrs. World Famous Diva and make sure everything is going swimmingly for her and all disasters are averted,” Adeline said, gathering up the rest of her items in her arms. “Then, you and I are going to go check on Chris to make sure he's functioning, hasn't pity-drank himself into a stupor, and he hasn't killed himself yet. And then, if he hasn't...you're gonna help me kill him.”

“I'm totally up for murder,” Stephanie said, quickly getting up to follow Addy in a rush. “But in our pretty dresses?”

Adeline glanced back at her friend, watching her full-length black dress flutter with her movement.

“Yeah,” she said, briefly glancing down at her own black dress, nearly the same but without some of the extra length. “As if our jobs aren't hard enough, now we have to do them in dresses and heels.”

“Was this Lance's stupid idea, or just another reason to murder Chris?” Stephanie asked.

“It was neither Dumb nor Dumber's idea,” Addy said. “It was mine.”

Stephanie stopped short as Addy did, right in front of a dressing room door.

“But...why?” she asked.

“Because,” Addy said, placing her hand on the knob of Celine's dressing room, “I'm meeting fucking Celine Dion.”

Stephanie smiled as Addy opened the door, quickly pasting a smile on her face and greeting the celebrity behind the door enthusiastically.

“Well, of course,” she said to herself. “How stupid of me.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I can't do this.”

Gina looked over at her friend. Melissa looked pale white, with almost a hint of green. She was doubled over as they stood first in line in front of the door that they would go into for the meet-and-greet, the palm of her hand against the wall.

“You're not gonna throw up, are ya?” Gina asked. “I don't wanna lose my place in line.”

“Thank you so much for your sympathy,” Mel said, her breathing becoming rapid. “I think I'm having a panic attack.”

“How would ya know if ya were?”

“I have a friend who has them,” Melissa said. A slight smile crossed her face. “The irony is that the same friend will be in that room when we go in.”

“Chris?” Gina asked, surprised.

“No, the 'dumplin's' wife,” Mel said. “Adeline. She has an...anxiety disorder. She had panic attacks occasionally.”

Both girls were silent for a moment, Mel trying to catch her breath.

“So, ya really were, like...friends with these guys, then,” Gina finally said.

“Yeah,” Mel said softly. “I really was friends with them.”

“I thought maybe ya just happened ta meet them in New York once,” Gina said, staring at the door in front of her. “Had some fun. Partied with 'em for a night or somethin'. And ya'd been hangin' on to that to deal with everything you're goin' through here in Arkansas. I didn't know it went this far.”

“It went this far. I let it go too far,” Mel said. “Now I'm trying to let go – but I just keep hanging on.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey...whoa.”

Chris looked up from his dressing room mirror at Justin, who had stepped in and stopped suddenly.

“What?” Chris asked.

“You're...” Justin stuttered. “Um...you're...dressed up.”

“Yeah, we have a meet-and-greet in ten minutes.”

“Yeah, but...you haven't really dressed up like this for any of our meet-and-greets so far,” Justin said. “I just guess I'm wondering...why now?”

“It's Little Rock.”

Justin sighed.

“Chris, you do realize she's not going to show up, don't you?”

“And you do realize that hanging on to one, single sliver of hope is what is keeping me going long enough to do this show, right?” Chris asked. “Besides, I was actually saying it's Little Rock, and we're performing with Celine Dion. We'll be sitting next to her at the meet-and-greet. I don't want to look like the bum who slept under the bridge last night compared to the world's greatest diva.”

Justin was silent.

“What was it you came in here to tell me, anyway?” Chris asked.

“Um...I was just gonna say we were getting together for the meet-and-greet,” Justin responded. “And that Addy is on the warpath so you might not want to screw with her too much if she comes in here.”

Chris smirked. “'Cause you already did.”

“Yyyyyeah,” Justin drawled. “One of these days, I'm likely to lose an eye – but it's so much fun.”

Chris shook his head as Justin turned and walked out. He looked himself over once more in the mirror – fixing the collar of his button-up shirt and reaching down to smooth his slacks out.

“Here we go,” he said to his reflection in the mirror.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You think she's over-dressed, or are we under-dressed?”

Chris looked over at Lance, to his right at the table.

“Say what?” he asked.

“Hi, I'm Lance. You might recognize me as your bandmate,” Lance said with a smile. “Of course you might not because your body's here but your brain is somewhere else.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Chris said, picking up the Sharpie in front of him and tapping it mindlessly on the table. “I think it's the pain meds.”

“Right,” Lance said. “Anyway, Celine – I mean look at her.”

Chris looked up, seeing Celine Dion standing next to the door, talking with Addy and Stephanie. Not only were they dressed in an unusual black dress combination, Celine sparkled in a sequin-covered dark blue gown.

“Well, she is a 'diva',” Chris said.

“It must be contagious, then,” Lance said. “I haven't seen Addy wear that black dress in...actually, come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen her wear that dress. I think she went shopping, and I'm pretty sure the other black dress standing next to her probably talked her into it.”

“What do you think it's gonna be like when Steph leaves in a couple days?”

“Quiet,” Lance said, smiling when Chris chuckled.

The room went mostly silent for the next few moments as all the boys waited for the meet-and-greet to start. Chris could hear Stephanie and Addy softly conversing with Celine from across the room, and JC tapping his Sharpie on the table in front of him.

When their security guard, Tiny, opened the door and took his place by it, the three women dispersed to their places – Celine to her seat at the end of the table next to Justin, and Addy and Stephanie to the corner, out of the way of the meet-and-greet.

Chris hung his head, sighing as he heard the door open. It was just another meet-and-greet; it would go the same way as all the ones had the week before, and the week before that. He was here physically, a warm body to sit in the chair and smile and sign autographs for dedicated fans, but that was it – and that was enough.

His head was still hung when he heard Lance next to him audibly gasp, and felt a harsh slap against his arm.

“Dude,” Chris said.

He only had to look up and see the shocked look on Lance's face.

“What the hell man?” Chris said, narrowing his eyes at his friend, still feeling the sting of the slap.

Lance didn't answer; he only stared out in front of him, his eyes wide. It didn't take long for Chris to see the other men look up, the same expression on their faces.

But it was when he saw Addy's jaw drop and her hand fly to cover her mouth that he finally decided it was worth it to look up himself.

There he saw her – standing just inches away from him, her blue eyes staring back at him, and her blonde hair pulled back in a clip. She moved slowly toward him with her purse in her hand, her navy blue dress flouncing behind her with her movement.

“Hi, Chris,” Melissa said with a sigh.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She placed her hand on her stomach, willing the urge to vomit to disappear.

“Are...are you sure it's okay for me to be back here?” Melissa asked as she heard Chris close the door of the dressing room behind him. “I only have meet-and-greet passes, not the VIP package.”

“Who's going to kick you out?” he asked her, rubbing his sweaty hands together. “Lonnie does love to kick people out, but I think even he recognizes that VIP package or not, you're the most 'very important person' here tonight.”

“I don't think so,” she said with a slight smile. She still couldn't turn to face him. “After all, I'm fabulous – but I'm no Celine Dion.”

“To tell you the truth, Mel,” he said, “there are at least seven people here tonight that couldn't give a fuck about Celine after seeing you walk into the room.”

The smile disappeared; she swallowed the lump in her throat back down to her stomach.

“My God, Mel, you're here,” he said.

“I wish it were under less surprising circumstances,” she said, finally turning around to look at him.

“It doesn't matter,” he said. “The fact is that you're here. That's all that matters.”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“I'm stupid,” he said. “I'm looking a miracle horse in the mouth – but I can't help asking myself...why? Why now?”

She swallowed again. “Partially because I was coerced...threatened, even,” she said, setting her clutch purse down on a chair next to her. “That girl with me out there, Gina...if I had refused to come, she would have drugged me and carried me here.”

“So you didn't want to come?” he asked.

“No, Chris,” she said, seeing his hurt look. “It's not that. I wanted to come. I wanted to see you. But I've been...scared.”

He paused, shaking his head and looking away.

“I never said goodbye,” she said. “And all I've done for the past month and a half since is imagine how much you guys must absolutely hate me for it.”

“Hate doesn't even approach what we feel about you, Melissa,” he said. “Hate could never even be in the vicinity of what we feel about you because you're our friend. But fear...fear is a different story entirely.”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I wish I could have done things differently. But circumstances what they were...I couldn't.”

“Why?” he asked.

She closed her eyes and sighed. Seeing him again wasn't what made her sick to her stomach; it was knowing he would ask why.

“What happened?” he asked.

“It's not important, Chris.”

“It's not? It's not important to me,” he asked, pointing a finger to himself. “Or it's not important to you?”

She closed her eyes, hanging her head.

“I guess that's my answer,” he said. “After all, you did pack up your stuff and leave in the middle of the night, with no warning.”

“I told you,” she responded. “I wish I could have done things differently, Chris.”

“Why couldn't you?” he asked.

“You wouldn't even begin to understand,” she said softly.

“So you leave in the middle of the night, scare the crap out of all of us, and then reappear – but you can't explain any of it?” he said. “I'm sure you just came for the show, right? You hoped we could bypass the big dramatic 'welcome back' scene all together.”

“I didn't come back to tell you my sob story or try to pay for my sins,” she said, raising her voice. “I came to tell you I was sorry.”

“Why bother?” he asked.

“Because I never did!” she yelled. “Because I should have. Because you deserve it.”

“But you didn't come back for me,” he said. “You came back for you. The only thing that sorry does is make you feel better – so you did come back to pay for your sins.”

“I can't undo what I did,” she said. “And I can't go back and change how I did it. All I can do is apologize and hope that it makes a difference.”

“I want it to,” Chris said softly. “I want it to make a difference.”

“But it doesn't,” she said.

Chris shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks, looking down at the floor as he leaned against the wall of his dressing room.

“I'll go,” she said quietly.

She reached down and grabbed her clutch from the couch.

“I hope you have a good show,” she said as she walked around furniture toward the door.

She stopped with her hand on the knob, glancing over at him. He had finally looked up at her, and her eyes connected with his. She closed her eyes for a moment, hoping she could hold back the tears, and released her grip on the knob, walking over to him.

“It's important,” she whispered.

She leaned into him, cupping his cheek with her hand, and let her lips touch his.

“Goodbye, Chris,” she whispered, before pulling away.

Chapter 16 – Hold On To The Nights

“Asleep?”

Adeline looked over her shoulder, slightly rolling over in the bed.

“No,” she said, seeing Lance standing in the doorway, and rolling back over to place her hand on Liam's leg as he slept next to her. “I don't think I'll get much of that tonight.”

Lance lowered his head, uncrossing his legs and started walking toward the bed.

“I thought you were playing a video game with Justin,” she said.

“He cheated,” Lance said. “I decided to stop before I kicked his ass.”

He laid down next to her, adjusting his body so he was pressed up against her back, and rubbed his hand over her hip.

“You're much prettier to look at than him, anyway,” he whispered in her ear.

She chuckled.

“Just tell me that you didn't have anything to do with her showing up tonight.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she answered.

“Addy, I'm not stupid,” he said. “You and Stephanie would never go to Little Rock without a motive. I know about all of it – going to see Mel's parents, the search...”

“What'd you do, chip me?” she asked with a smile.

“I was thinking about it, but I couldn't slip the GPS tracker into your purse,” he said in her ear. “I'm just not that slick.”

She laughed.

“Also, Stephanie's dad called me,” he said. “He thought it was odd that she wanted him to track down a Catherine and Paul Weston in Little Rock, Arkansas. And then when Steph wouldn't answer her phone, he got worried that she might be trying to get herself in trouble – imagine that.”

“Damn,” Addy said.

“I'm not mad,” Lance said. “But why wouldn't you just tell me the truth?”

She turned her head to look at him.

“'Cause you'd have tried to stop me,” she said. “You tried to stop me when you didn't know the truth.”

“Since when do you listen to me?” he asked with a smile.

She smiled back. “I didn't have anything to do with her showing up tonight. We talked to Cathie and Paul, but we never found Mel. So we gave up.”

“You didn't give up,” he said. “Steph made you give up.”

“Since when does Steph make me do anything?”

“Since...birth!” he scoffed. “She's the love-child of Charles Manson and Evel Knievel without the bad-ass motorcycle. And with half the homicidal tendencies.”

“True,” Addy said with a light laugh. “And somehow...we still managed to screw things up.”

He brushed a chunk of hair away from her face as she turned her head to look back at Liam, who still slept next to them.

“I've never gotten a chance to talk to you about our fight,” he said, speaking softly. “While you were gone, I had time to think about it. You're right.”

“Is tonight really the ideal night to talk about this?” she asked.

“It should be a joint decision to have another baby,” he said. “But if all it's doing is stressing you out...well then I need to respect that.”

She sighed and pushed a stray hair out of Liam's eyes before she rolled onto her back.

“I can't handle being a mom, being a tour manager, and trying to get pregnant at the same time,” she said, looking up at him. “One by itself is stressful; two at the same time is barely do-able. Trying to do all three...I just can't.”

“Then maybe we should reconsider having another baby at all,” he said.

She knitted her eyebrows together in surprise.

“But you want more kids,” she said.

“Well, yeah,” he said. “I always wanted two or three, maybe even four. I always wanted a family. But then I met you. Things change. Circumstances change; life changes your 'hopes' into reality. What you want becomes what you can reasonably have. We never thought we'd be able to have children. Liam was a fluke. He just happened; he came along at a time when we least expected him. God has given us what He's given us; do we really want to look Him in the eye and ask for more?”

“Don't do that,” she said. “Don't bring God and religion into this. Don't rationalize away what you want from your life because you feel religious guilt. If at one point in your life you had stopped at what you wanted and accepted what God gave you, would you be here today? You wanted to be a singer; you stopped at nothing to get it. You wanted to be free from your old manager's tyranny; you did everything you could to get what you deserved.”

“I also wanted to be an astronaut,” he said with a chuckle. “And you see how that went. I never set foot on the moon. Que sera sera, Ad. Life is what it is.”

“Life isn't fair,” she said softly.

“It never is,” he responded.

They both laid silently with each other, both of them watching Liam sleep next to them. Lance watched his son's light eyelashes flutter, his chest rising softly as he periodically sighed, making a slight moaning sound.

“That look.”

Lance looked down to see her suddenly looking over at him.

“What look?” he asked.

“I saw that look,” she said. “The way you look at him. Almost the same as the way you used to look at me.”

“I don't still look at you that way?” he asked.

“It's changed over the years,” she said with a smile. “You know, when it was still all new for us.”

“Things aren't that bad, are they?” he asked

“No,” she said, slightly shaking her head. “No, they're not that bad.”

He smiled as she leaned in, kissing him.

“You know,” she whispered against his lips. “Just because we agree we're not trying, doesn't mean we can't still have a little fun...while we're not trying.”

She pressed her lips to his again.

“You may not have made it into space,” she whispered. “But you can take me to the moon.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“She just...kissed you? And then moved on, like it was nothing?”

JC and Joey stared at Chris from across the lounge.

“I'm an ass,” Chris said, holding his head in his hands.

“She wouldn't have kissed you if you were an ass,” Joey said.

“Oh really?” Chris raised his voice, looking up. “'Cause why – women don't kiss asses?”

“Generally speaking, no,” JC said. “Usually in relationships, it's the man doing all the ass kissing.”

Chris huffed.

“I was only partially trying to lighten the mood,” JC said. “But it really is true. Were you an ass? Yes. Did it matter? Well, she kissed you before she left, so apparently not. Not as much as you want to think it does, anyway.”

“Why would I yell at her like that?” Chris asked, his hands splaying as he spoke. “I've waited for this day, I've dreamed of this day, this day that she'd walk in unexpected and I could see her again, touch her, talk to her. And when it happens, against all reason and logic, I get mad and yell at her.”

“That is reason and logic,” JC said. “You're upset. She could have walked in two months ago and you'd have still yelled at her. Five more minutes and the two of you would've been making out on the couch. Forgive and forget.”

“She didn't give me five minutes,” Chris said. “I doubt she even stayed for the show.”

“She did,” Joey said. “I saw her and her friend. They were both bawling during 'My Heart Will Go On'.”

“Half the crowd was bawling during that,” JC said. “How could you tell the difference between the girls and the rest of the audience?”

“The one girl, the one with Mel? She hit on me,” Joey said.

“She hit on all of us, except Chris,” JC said with an eye roll. “Even if you weren't married, she was way more into Justin than anybody. You didn't stand a chance.”

“I'm taken, you're taken, Justin's taken,” Joey said. “Doesn't matter. She still hit on me.”

“Congrats,” JC retorted. “The Italian Stallion rides again. Can we get back to the matter at hand?”

“Long as it's understood that I still got it,” Joey said with a proud look.

Chris couldn't help but scoff and shake his head.

“Things never change around here,” he said.

Suddenly, he felt a buzzing from beside him, and looked down to see his phone lighting up. He reached down and picked it up, looking at the unrecognizable number on the screen.

“Who is it?” JC asked.

“Number I don't know,” Chris responded.

“Probably Justin,” Joey said. “He does it to me all the time – Lance goes to bed, Justin can't sleep, gets bored, uses a website to prank call me. Little bitch.”

Chris hit the 'end' button on the phone, silencing the buzzer and letting the phone automatically take the caller to his voicemail.

“I'm never going to get this opportunity again,” he said as he sat the phone down at his side. “This was my one last chance and what'd I do? I blew it.”

“Maybe not,” Joey said with a shrug. “Hey, now we know where she is, right? That's something to go on.”

“And how exactly would that serve a purpose?” Chris asked.

“Tour's not gonna last forever,” Joey said. “Little Rock looks like a good place you could...vacation.”

“Vacation?” Chris asked.

“You know...vacation,” JC said with a smirk. “Hit up a few of the bars, go out and meet some people. You might like it so much you want to move there. It's a small big city. Surely you're bound to bump into somebody, sometime.”

“That's...cunning,” Chris said. “And sort of idiotic. You two are horrible at this. I'll let Addy and Steph plan my genius 'accidentally bump into Mel' scenario.”

Chris looked down as his phone buzzed again, showing he had a new voicemail. He reached down and pressed a button, starting the call.

“Those two are pistols,” JC said as Chris put the phone to his ear. “How have we not caught on to their secret plans yet?”

“We're men,” Joey said. “We're stupid – and they're pretty. We fall for it every time.”

“God, that's true,” JC said.

Chris smiled as he punched in his voicemail code.

“You have one new voicemail message,” the automated voice said. “Saturday, April twenty-six, two-thousand-fourteen, one-thirty-six AM...”

Chris divided his attention between JC and Joey's conversation in front of him and to the voicemail message on his phone, fully expecting Justin's voice to play back to him with a classic, yet lame, “Is your refrigerator running?” joke, if only in an attempt to raise Chris's spirits after the night. But once he heard a familiar, soft tune coming through the speaker, his eyebrows knitted together.

“Shhh!” he harshly shushed the two men in front of him, who looked up startled.

“Just when I believed, I couldn't ever want for more...This ever-changing world pushes me through another door...”

He listened as Richard Marx's voice sang back to him.

“I saw you smile, and my mind could not erase the beauty of your face...Just for a while, won't you let me shelter you?”

It was when the next verse came on that he understood.

“Hold on to the nights...hold on to the memories...I wish that I could give you something more...that I could be yours...”

As the verse ended and the melody started playing, he heard an abrupt click.

“To erase this message, press one,” the automated voice said again. “To save this message, press two...”

Chris pulled the phone away from his ear and clicked 'end', cutting off the connection.

“What was it?” JC asked.

“Uh...” Chris hummed. “I don't know, wrong number I guess.”

“Didn't look like a wrong number,” JC said, his eyebrows raised.

Chris looked at his friends. He knew one thing – he'd had a good enough glance at the number on the phone to know that it was a Little Rock area code. The fact that it was unverified and not in his address phone meant it could be anybody.

But he knew it wasn't.

But he also knew that if he told JC and Joey that it was Mel leaving a song as a message for him, they would do anything to convince him that he was wrong.

“Telemarketer,” he said, shaking his head. He threw his phone on the sofa next to him, away from his body, and leaned back into the couch. “Selling magazine subscriptions, or internet service...I don't know, something.”

“Calling at fucking one-thirty in the morning,” Joey said, glancing at JC and shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

“Guess I need to renew my subscription to the No-Call list,” Chris said. He pushed himself off the couch. “I'm turning in. We have a full day off before the show in Shreveport. I plan to take advantage of it.”

He grabbed his crutches from their place propped against the couch, hobbling into place to put them under his arms.

“Night,” he said to the two before he started walking his way toward the hallway that would take him to his room.

“Good night,” JC said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

Chris laid in his bed for an hour with an open copy of a Harry Potter book in his hands, halfheartedly reading over the same pages he had read many times already. His cell phone sat next to him, and he couldn't help but glance at it several times.

He waited, and finally at almost three in the morning, he heard JC and Joey finally leave the lounge room they had been in and each one of them close their doors to their pseudo-bedrooms. He waited another fifteen minutes until all he could hear was the rhythmic rolling of the bus's wheels underneath him.

He closed the book and sat it beside him, reaching to pick up his phone. He bit his lip as he brought up his recent calls, and scrolled to the unrecognizable number.

Should he call back? He couldn't be sure it was actually Melissa – all he had to go on was a couple lyrics of a song and a hunch. If he called and reached someone who had accidentally called him while trying to reach another person, and woke them up at three in the morning, he would feel like an idiot.

But if by some random chance it was Mel, he couldn't ignore the message. He had to somehow tell her he had received it.

He reached over to the stereo and turned it on. It just so happened that he had been listening to a CD lately that expressed his feelings completely.

He pressed the button on his phone to call the number, and as he put it to his ear and listened to it ring, he skipped forward to the third track. It only took two rings for the pre-recorded, robotic sound of the voicemail to pick up, which meant she was probably asleep and had her phone off.

Once he heard the beep, he placed the phone up to the stereo's speakers, letting the song say everything he wanted to.

“A hundred days have made me older, since the last time that I saw your pretty face...A thousand lies have made me colder, and I don't think I can look at this the same...But all the miles that separate, they disappear now when I'm dreaming of your face...

“I'm here without you baby, but you're still on my lonely mind...I think about you baby, and I dream about you all the time...I'm here without you baby, but you're still with me in my dreams...And tonight, there's only you and me...”

He swallowed the emotions in his throat as he pulled the phone back to him, pressing the 'end' button. He closed his eyes, continuing to listen to the music.

“The miles just keep rolling, as the people leave their way to say hello...I've heard this life is overrated, but I hope that it gets better as we go...”

He silently sat his phone next to him and let his mind relax, the soft music starting to lull him to sleep. He could only hope that it would get better.

Chapter 17 – This Love I Have Is Pulling Me To Death

Saturday, April 26, 2014 – Little Rock, Arkansas

Quiet.

Seven in the morning, and it was finally quiet. Mel had been waiting for this all night.

Derek had left early for work this morning because he had a meeting – thank God. She had made his lunch, packed a thermos with coffee for him, and as soon as he walked out the door, she loaded her own cup of coffee with extra sugar, just to ensure she would stay awake. Then she had headed here; outside, on her deck, at the patio table, with her mug and phone in hand.

She wished she was dead right now. She felt dead inside.

The night had been Hell. She knew going to see Chris would be bad for her. She didn't blame him for the way the confrontation had gone down; as a matter of fact, she was grateful. It finally made her feel like shit, the way she knew she should feel – the way she knew she deserved to feel.

She wished she could have at least explained the situation better to him, but unexpectedly, when she was confronted with him, she couldn't form the words she needed to make him understand that she didn't leave because she didn't love him. She couldn't tell him what happened and she knew that, because she'd be putting herself and him both in danger. But she at least hoped that he could understand, by the time she left, that it wasn't his fault. Nothing was his fault.

The concert was amazing, as she had expected it to be. She expected nothing less, knowing how big the tour was, being there during most of the planning stages. It had been the best three hours of her life for the past two months. It was no surprise that when Celine hit the stage and sang with the boys, she couldn't hold back and was bawling by the end of 'My Heart Will Go On'.

She thought she saw Chris sneak peeks her way during the song, and imagined that he was belting his heart out for her – but it may have been just wishful thinking.

She knew she shouldn't have let Gina keep her out so late. They both had smiles on their face so huge, and adrenaline pumping through their bodies so much, that by the time the show was over and they left the venue, they knew there was no way they would be able to go home and sleep, despite the fact it was almost one in the morning.

Against her better judgment, she let Gina convince her to drive the strip and go “parking” where all the high-schoolers now gathered on the weekends to drink without their parents knowing. Even so early in the morning, it was nearly empty, all the reckless teenagers dispersed to whatever house was missing parents for an “after-party”, and the two of them sat in the car with the windows down and the breeze cooling them, talking about the show and anything that crossed their minds.

She didn't walk through the door until 3:30 in the morning. And the moment she stepped foot into the house, she knew it was about to happen.

She was greeted with a push, her head banging against the wall so hard it made her ears ring and she couldn't hear right for three hours. That wasn't a problem for Derek, though; it just made him yell louder. She could smell the alcohol and stench of cigars on his breath as he was in her face, screaming so hard he spit on her.

The lamp in the living room was broken, crashing to the floor as he threw her into it and the table, all three of them landing on the floor. He wasted no time rearing back his foot to kick her.

She reached down and pulled up her t-shirt, looking at the bruise that covered her entire left side from the bottom of her breast to her waist. She winced as her stomach bended slightly with her unintentional movement.

Twenty times. That was how many times he had kicked her.

When he was done, he grabbed her arm to harshly pull her off the floor – she had a couple nice bruises in the perfect shape of fingers on her arm because of that – even as she lost her balance over the broken porcelain of the lamp and the overturned table and stumbled, landing face first against the wall.

That was when he had grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him, and only a second passed before she felt his palm land across her cheek. She heard the scream come out of her mouth, and the hit was so hard that she fell to her side, knocking her head against the bookcase.

She still had blood matted in her hair, because she was in too much pain and too scared to step foot into the shower without his approval.

The final blow was the punch to her face. It was enough to knock her unconscious.

By the time she woke up, on the living room floor, and made her way to their bedroom, she found him passed out in bed – cold, dead drunk.

She collapsed by her side of the bed on the floor, leaning against the bedside table, and cried. Her tears burned her eye where his fist had landed, but everything hurt by then. One pain was no greater than any other. Besides, the physical pain was numb compared to the emotional pain.

She only discovered the voicemail after she plugged her phone in, before she planned to carefully crawl into bed.

She had erased Chris's number from her phone a long time ago, but she couldn't erase it from her mind. The boys would be on the bus headed for Shreveport, so Addy wouldn't have their phones on her. There was a fifty-fifty chance he would be awake and answer the phone, and she didn't know if it was a chance she wanted to take – but it was a chance to tell him how she felt that she couldn't pass up.

She never expected him to return the message.

She had to carefully walk into the bathroom, shutting and locked the door behind her, in order to listen to the message.

The minute she heard “Here Without You” start to play, she collapsed to the cold linoleum floor and started to cry. It was a song they had connected to, together. And now it applied to their relationship – or lack thereof.

After crying herself to sleep, she had managed to get two hours of sleep before the alarm woke her up for the morning “routine” - make sure his clothes were laid out and he was awake, make the coffee, endure a berating for laying out the wrong clothes, endure any number of complaints about how the dishes weren't done or the laundry was backed up, make his lunch just the way he liked it, and see him off to work before finally reaching a place of peace.

She had cried a few extra tears this morning, but today she had decided to take everything out to the patio, where she sat sipping her coffee, writing in her journal, and drying away the tears.

'Seeing him again last night at the concert, how he reacted...just cements the fact that we can never be together again. What I did to him was absolutely unforgivable. I guess deep in my heart I always knew it was, but at one point I hoped he was stronger than that...we were stronger than that. We were stronger than one really big mistake and wouldn't let it come between us. I guess I was wrong.

And who doesn't think their relationship is strong enough to withstand one really big mistake? Everyone does. But it's naïve. Completely naïve. But then, I'm naïve.

Stupid and naïve.'

“Hey there.”

Mel looked up from her book to see a brunette-haired man, with the same bedhead hairstyle as she remembered Lance always having, leaning against her porch railing, his arms crossed.

“Um..hi,” she said, looking back at her journal.

“Nice morning, ain't it?” he said. “Not too hot, not too cold, perfect breeze. Nice and peaceful.”

“Sure is,” she said quietly.

“I'm your neighbor,” he said, holding an outstretched hand towards her over the rail. “Name's Eric – Eric Rowe.”

She hesitantly looked up, holding her hand out after a few moments, which he shook with a firm grip.

“Sorry to disturb ya,” he said, pulling his arm back. “I've just seen ya 'round here several times, but never got a chance ta introduce myself.”

“It's not a problem,” she responded quietly, looking back down at her journal.

He was silent a few moments.

“So what's your name?” he finally asked. “I figure, if we're gonna be neighbors and all...”

“Mel,” she said, interrupting him. “My name's Mel.”

“That short for Melissa?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Ya live here with your boyfriend?”

She looked up, leaning the cap of her pen against her cheek.

“Yeah,” she said. “He's my boyfriend.”

“I've seen him around,” Eric said. “Workin' on his truck, mowin' the lawn.”

She sighed.

“Well,” he said after a pause. “I guess I'll be goin' then, and let you get back to what you were doin'. I jus' wanted ta introduce myself, get ta know ya, let ya know if there's ever anything ya need...I live right next door, so...”

“Thank you,” she said.

He nodded, stepping away from the railing and walking off toward his house.

“Can I ask ya somethin'?” he said, turning around.

Mel looked up again.

“I guess,” she said softly.

“What happened ta your face?”

She lowered her head, ashamed of the ugly bruising. She had taken a week of personal time off work because of them; they were beyond even her makeup skills to cover up, and she didn't want to face the multiple questions she knew she would get, not only from Gina and George and Victoria, but from the customers – both regulars and curious wanderers. But she couldn't hide away all week until they healed, so she had already come up with a safety excuse for grocery stores and questioning strangers.

“I was in a car accident last night,” she said.

“A pretty bad one, from the looks of it,” he responded. “Ya got a pretty good shiner, there.”

“Yeah,” she said. “My, uh...my face hit the dashboard. I...I'm an idiot. I wasn't wearing my seatbelt.”

“That's weird, I didn't hear sirens go out,” he said.

“I was in the city,” she said. “At a friend's house. I...I didn't bother going to the hospital. It's not that bad, really.”

“I don't know, it looks that bad.” He paused. “I didn't even hear a report on the scanner. Did ya call the police?”

“No,” she said. “It...it was nothing. Exchange insurance information, make sure everyone's okay...you know. Nothing to bother the police with.”

“Hmm, looks like something perfectly suitable ta bother the police with,” he said. “I'd know since I am the police.”

She felt her heart race, and she looked up.

“You're a...cop?” she asked.

“Detective, really,” he said nonchalantly. “Investigator with the Department of Missing Persons, so I guess traffic violations really aren't my area.”

He slightly laughed as she felt her heart race even more.

“Still, seems like something ya should have called the police for,” he said.

“No one was seriously hurt, it was late,” she said. “Everybody just wanted to get home and put it behind them.”

“Well, if ya say so,” he said. “Hey, it's not like I can arrest you, right?”

She tried to smile as he chuckled.

“Yeah,” she said with a forced laugh. “I'll have to watch what I say around you from now on – self-incrimination.”

She closed her journal with a loud smack just as she heard a car door close in her driveway. Panicked that Derek had come back, she turned in her seat and looked past the bush blocking her view of the driveway, only to see Gina in her work uniform coming up the driveway.

“I'll go,” Eric said. “You got company. I'm...I'm sorry if it felt like I was pryin' into your business or anything.”

“It's okay,” she said, gathering her journal and her coffee mug up in her hands and standing up.

“I'll see ya around.”

He stepped away from the railing and putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans, walked back into his own yard, up the porch, and opened the door to his house.

“Who was that?”

Mel turned around, seeing Gina on her patio.

“My God, Mel,” she said, her eyes widening. “What the hell happened to your eye?”

“What are you doing here, Gina?” Mel asked.

“Comin' to ask why ya called to say ya needed to take a week's worth of sick leave, and to tell ya that Vic's beyond royally pissed,” Gina said. “But I don't think I have to ask anymore.”

“I told Vic, I had an accident last night,” she said, walking towards the door with her belongings.

“An accident,” Gina said. “I'm so sure.”

“I told her I would work some extra shifts next week to make up the time,” Mel said. “I took care of it. You have no reason to be here, Gina. Go back to work.”

“Alright, so I lied,” Gina said. “I haven't been to work yet, but Vic texted me that you were takin' a week off. Ya had a 'car accident'. Ya think she believes you?”

“I'm sure she doesn't,” Mel said as she opened the sliding glass door and stepped inside, Gina following her. “It doesn't matter if she believes me, as long as I bring in the doctor's note saying that's what happened. It's my time to take.”

“Ya think I believe you?” Gina asked.

“Ya think I care if you believe me?” Mel asked.

She was caught off guard while walking away when Gina grabbed her hand roughly, pulling her back toward her. The force stung her sensitive wrist, still feeling the effects of Derek's assault from the night before, and her hand started to shake.

“Melissa,” Gina said roughly, inches from Mel's face. “This has to stop.”

Melissa felt tears sting her eyes.

“He's going to kill you,” Gina said.

Mel sighed.

“Some days,” she whispered, letting the tears fall, “I wish he would.”

Gina released her wrist slowly, disconnecting her eyes from Mel's. She looked away as Mel took a seat at the kitchen table.

“Those cuts need cleaned,” she said softly. “And your eye's swelling. I'll go get the peroxide and an ice pack.”

Mel watched as Gina sat her purse and keys down on the table and walked away towards the bathroom. Slouching in the kitchen chair, she buried her head into her arm, propped on the wood table, and finally let the tears roll freely.

It finally hit her – with Chris out of the picture, indefinitely now, there was nowhere to go from here. There was no better to hope for; better was gone.

This would be her life until it ended – somehow.

Chapter 18 – Looking For The Prince

Friday, May 2, 2014 – Dallas/Fort Worth, Texas

“Got everything?”

Stephanie looked up into JC's eyes.

“I don't know,” she said with a smile. “Do I still have time to stuff you in my carry-on?”

“I know I've lost some weight dancing on stage, but...I still don't think I can fit in that thing,” he responded, pointing to her backpack thrown across her shoulder.

They smiled at each other.

“I think Johnny might send out the Marines if I go missing anyway,” JC said.

“Oh yeah,” she said wistfully, her Australian accent thick. “I forgot you're a big star again. Girls chasing you all around the place.”

JC looked around at the absence of fans and girls waiting to fall all over him.

“Hmm,” he said. “They must have missed the memo that Lance and I would be here today.”

Stephanie chuckled.

“Surely it's not because most of our fans are in their thirties now and have grown above chasing buses and hiding under room service carts.”

“You know, I was really hoping I'd get to see that while I was here,” Stephanie said, adjusting her backpack. “I almost didn't believe him when Lance first told me about that. I wanted to see that kind of craziness in action.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” JC said. “I think Addy's glad it hasn't happened yet, though. Justin is driving her insane enough without adding psychotic fans to everything else.”

They both looked up and sighed as they heard a female voice over the intercom, calling for Stephanie's flight number to start boarding.

“Can't we just stop time?” Stephanie asked him. “I don't have to go back to New York, you don't have to go back to the tour...”

“If I had the power to stop the time, I'd have stopped it last night, right before you started packing,” JC said softly.

She was startled when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her from behind.

“Don't go,” Adeline whispered. “Don't leave me with them.”

Stephanie laughed and shrugged the arms off her.

“I feel loved,” she said.

“She just doesn't want to suffer alone,” Lance said with a smile.

Stephanie smiled back, wrapping her arms around him tightly when he pulled her in for a hug.

“I'm gonna miss having you around,” he said. “Believe it or not.”

“I believe it.” She patted him on the back. “Who's going to keep you in line now?”

“I still have muscle,” Addy said, pointing outward. Stephanie laughed when she saw her friend pointing at the bodyguard hanging out a few feet away from them.

“Let's give these two a few minutes alone,” Lance said, looking at Addy. “Jace, we'll be waiting in the car.”

Stephanie smiled as Addy wandered away, hooking her hand into Lance's as they walked towards the airport exit.

“That's the happiest I've seen her in a long time,” Stephanie said. “They must have made up with each other.”

“They are happy,” JC said, watching his friends walk away, hand-in-hand. He reached into his leather jacket pocket. “I want to be that happy, Steph.”

“Stupid happy?” she said with a chuckle.

She watched with a smile as she watched the pair, her two best friends, walk away together. She had been the one that knew from the very first day that they were meant to be together. It had taken a lot of time to convince Addy, and a lot of work to see them through their differences, but she was happy to finally see them as happy as she always imagined they could be.

“I just knew--”

She stopped as she turned around to face him, seeing him knelt down on the ground on one knee.

“You make me that happy,” he said.

Her eyes widened as she saw him pull a small box out of his pocket and open it towards her, revealing a ring.

“Will you be my wife, Stephanie Dawn?” he asked.

She was speechless as he reached up and grabbed her hand.

“JC, I...”

Her eyes connected with his.

“Yes,” she said.

He smiled. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

From several feet away, leaning against the wall with her back against his chest and his arms wrapped around her, Addy and Lance watched.

“What a dork.”

“You helped him plan the proposal,” Addy said, glancing back at him. “If anyone's a dork, it's you. Not everybody proposes on the fly in a church doorway.”

“Will you ever let me live that down?” he asked with a smile.

“Nope,” she responded, smiling back.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And here comes the night, pulling puppet strings on my heart again...Shows me all of this time I've been blind to this waking life...Now I, see it everywhere...'Cause I'm not lost, just looking for the prince, yeah...And I'm takin' it, one day at a time, and I'm gettin' by...By the way...You're still on my mind...You're still on my mind...”

Addy busied herself cleaning up the lounge on the bus, the buds in her ears playing a soft tune to relax her. Justin had locked himself in his room already, Lance was putting Liam to bed, and she had a rare moment to unwind. Even though by any normal standards, cleaning up wasn't on her list of relaxing things to do, it was more restful than any of her other duties.

She had just picked up a jacket and thrown it across her arm when she looked up to see Lance standing in the doorway, watching her.

“Having fun...watching me?” she asked as she pulled on the cords to remove the earbuds.

“Just interested,” Lance said, leaning up from the doorway.

“Yes, my cleaning is fascinating,” she said with a smile as he took a seat on the sofa. “It's like watching water boil.”

“I was listening to you hum,” he said. “You only hum when you're...happy. Satisfied. Relaxed.”

“I wasn't humming,” she said.

“You do it softly,” he said. “I don't even think you know you do it. Hence why I say you only do it when you're relaxed and satisfied.”

She grinned.

“You notice some very strange things about me.”

“Way back when,” he said, “you know, when you were just my assistant, I could always judge whether you were having a good day by your musical habits. A good day was when you'd putter around my apartment cleaning up my messes and you'd just hum to whatever music was playing. A bad day meant no music, and I knew to watch out.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Things tended to fly across the room when there was no music,” he said.

She chuckled.

“Pens. Clipboards. Planners. Glass candlesticks,” he said with a smile.

“That wasn't you,” she said. “And that...I had a good reason to throw.”

“Lucky for me, I gained the skill of 'ducking',” he said. “Why he never did is still a mystery.”

“He never annoyed me as much as you did,” she said, walking over toward him to take a seat. “But, also lucky for you...I'm only annoyed by the people I love the most.”

“Love at first injury,” he said, wrapping an arm around her as she laughed.

She leaned into his chest, pushing aside the heavy varsity jacket, and lifted her hand. She glanced over her engagement ring.

“They're good together,” Lance said. “I don't know how it works for them, but...it works.”

“Stephanie's wild by nature,” Addy responded. “JC's toned down and inconspicuous. He doesn't let her get too crazy, and she doesn't let him become an old man. They bring out a side in each other that nobody else does. She's going to keep JC young. And him...well she's finally found someone who will keep her from doing a five-to-ten stretch in prison.”

Lance laughed. “Yeah. That's probably it.”

He looked down, narrowing his eyes at the jacket in his wife's lap as he noticed the number embroidered on it.

“Hey, what's Chris's jacket doing on our bus?”

She furrowed her eyes. “This isn't Chris's, it's Justin's. Every time I turn around he leaves it laying somewhere, the little punk.”

“No,” Lance said, picking up the jacket. He ran his thumb over the embroidered number 7 on the chest. “See, Chris's jersey number was seven. Mine was four. Justin's was one and a half. His jacket has the 1 ½ embroidered on it. We had these made after we stopped doing Challenge for the Children games. Each of us has one with our jersey number on it.”

“Justin probably borrowed it,” she said. “He probably lost his – he loses stuff on a daily basis.”

“No, Justin and Chris aren't even remotely the same size,” Lance said. “He'd borrow from me or JC first – rather, steal, since he probably wouldn't ask first.”

“Maybe Chris was on the bus earlier,” Addy responded. “Or Justin found it and didn't get to give it back to him before we left town.”

“I doubt that's the case,” Lance said. “But what does it matter? We'll just set it aside and give it to him when we get to Oklahoma City.”

Addy nodded, scooting out of the way as Lance grabbed the jacket and stood up off the couch. Carrying it over to the other sofa so he would remember to pass it off to Chris when the buses stopped in the morning, he placed it over his arm to fold it. When he ran his hand over the fold to smooth it, his hand ran over a hard bump in the pocket.

“What's the matter?” Addy asked, seeing his face twist in confusion.

“Something in the pocket...”

He reached in, expecting to pull out Chris's bottle of pain pills or maybe a box of candy – something that he would fully expect from Chris – but instead, he held a small, black velvet box in his hand.

“Oh, God,” he said, tossing the jacket on the couch behind him.

He opened the box to look at the emerald and diamond engagement ring.

“Oh, no,” Addy said softly, taking place by his side and looking into the box. “That can't be good.”

“No, it's bad,” Lance said. “Very, very bad. Addy, Chris was going to ask Mel to marry him.”

“Oh, God,” Addy said. “Lance, what are we going to do?”

He shut the small box with a light snap, rolling it around in his hand once before turning towards the couch.

“Forgetting we ever found it,” Lance said, picking up the jacket and putting it back in the pocket. “If Chris wanted to talk about it, he would have come to us. And since he didn't, it's none of our business.”

“We can't just let him keep feeling this way,” Addy said. “He's probably feeling ten times worse than we thought he was.”

“And that's why I'm not going to be the one to remind him how shitty he must feel,” Lance said. “Drop it, Ad.”

She watched him walk out of the lounge room, through the doorway, and heard him close their bedroom door.

“Since when does he mind his own business,” she mumbled to herself sadly, her face falling as she picked up the jacket and walked it off towards the luggage storage.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Little Rock Police Department, how can I direct your call today?”

Eric Rowe picked up his mug of long-cold coffee and took a sip of it, grimacing slightly at the temperature, but swallowing it as he was unwilling to get out of his seat to refill his cup. The precinct outside his office buzzed with the usual activity of the officers and the secretaries taking calls. He stared at the file in front of him as he sat the mug back down on his desk, looking at the large red “SOLVED” sticker.

He'd worked this case for eight months. Eight months of sleepless nights, staying up by the lamplight at midnight pouring over the case file, waiting for whatever he was missing to finally hit him. It was like a lot of other cases in his department, but it didn't matter as much to any of the other detectives – not even his partner.

A twenty-seven year old mother of one – a son, five years old.

Murdered. By her ex-boyfriend.

To his colleagues, it was simply another case. Most of them had been on the force long enough that they had become numb to everything they saw on a daily basis – murders, assaults, rapes, senseless acts of violence.

But Eric was different than the rest of them. They laughed, asked him how he slept at night – everybody in the office jokingly called him the “Angel of Mercy”. He laughed along with them, knowing that they were making fun of him, but he took the title to heart.

He was proud of the fact that he actually gave a damn.

He'd waited eight months to solve the case, eight months to find the evidence that would help him put the guy away and bring justice to her son, who was now mourning his mother's death and learning to live in a foster home. And he had finally found it.

He sighed and leaned down, opening the bottom drawer of his file cabinet, shoving it in with the others.

It was always the same – expecting a sense of relief, but never getting it.

He kicked the drawer shut with his left foot, listening to the metal bang closed and pushing his rolling desk chair back into place.

“Mr. Rowe?”

Eric looked up in his doorway, seeing one of the secretaries leaning in.

“Janine?” he asked.

“You have a call on line two,” she said.

“Thank you, Janine,” he said.

She lightly smiled at him as she turned and walked back out to the lobby. He picked up the black phone on his desk, pressing the button for line two.

“This is Rowe,” he said.

“Who taught you to answer the phone, boy?”

Eric smiled when he recognized the voice on the other end.

“Chief Andrews,” he said. “Surprising to hear from you.”

“It's been a few years.”

“That it has,” Eric said, remembering his days as a patrol officer in New Jersey, under Chief Sebastian Andrews. “You still stomping around in Jersey?”

“Of course,” Sebastian said, the slight Australian-American accent that Eric remembered coming out.

“How's that daughter of yours?”

“Funny you ask,” Sebastian said, “since that's why I called.”

“Uh oh,” Eric said.

“That girl...”

“Vandalism reports go to the main office,” Eric said. “Though I'd be interested to hear the story.”

“No,” Sebastian said with a laugh. “Actually, Stephanie and her friend were down in Little Rock a couple of weeks ago, and I think they were poking around.”

“Poking around what?”

“Well,” Sebastian said, pausing a moment. “About three weeks ago, Stephanie was asking me to look into someone. The parents of a friend of hers – the Westons, I think?”

“Yeah?”

“I don't know what she was up to, but she asked for an address, said her and Adeline were wanting to pay them a visit.”

“Sounds a little suspicious.”

“Yeah, especially knowing my daughter, that's what I thought too,” Sebastian said. “I was just wanting to know if you could take a little time to quietly look into it, make sure my kid isn't creating too much trouble.”

“No problem, boss,” Eric said with a smile.

“Fantastic,” Sebastian said. “I'll fax over the address to you by morning.”

“Sounds good.”

“I owe ya one, kid.”

He exchanged a cordial goodbye with his old boss before hanging up the phone.

He looked up at the clock, sighing as he read 6:30 already. The lobby of the precinct had died down, getting quiet once again as most of his colleagues had headed home to their wives and children, leaving the lackeys and the night shifters who were just starting to arrive for their seven o'clock shift.

He glanced down once more at his file cabinet, scooting his chair back over to it and opening it to retrieve the file again. He looked at the “SOLVED” sticker once more, smiled slightly, and shoved the file back in the cabinet before standing up from his chair and grabbing his coat to walk out the door and go home.

Another case solved, justice brought to one more person – but there would be another waiting for him in the morning.

Chapter 19 – Vegas Wedding (Part One)

Two months later – July 20, 2014 – Las Vegas, Nevada

“Mama.”

Addy opened a single eye at the sound of the tiny voice calling to her. She barely caught a glimpse of her little boy standing beside her bed before she winced, his palm landing on her cheek.

“Mama seep?”

“Well, mama was asleep,” she responded, lifting her head from the pillow and rubbing her eyes.

“Liam Aiden.”

She looked up as Lance walked out from the bathroom, his wet hair sticking to his forehead.

“Sorry, babe,” he said, picking up Liam in his arms. “I was going to let you sleep in but I had to take a shower and he must have snuck away from me.”

“S'okay,” Addy said, sitting up in bed.

She leaned her head in her hands, groaning tiredly.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Nine?” Lance said loudly from the bathroom. She heard the water run and him spit his toothpaste into the sink.

“I haven't slept past seven for...well, probably since I was a baby,” she said.

“You've been exhausted,” Lance said, and he appeared from the bathroom again, with Liam in his arms. “We don't have to leave until ten, so I was going to let you sleep another half hour.”

“Well, good to know you were going to leave me very little time to actually get ready,” she said. She groaned and put her hand to her head. “My head is killing me.”

“The wedding doesn't even start until five,” Lance said. “You're getting hair and makeup done at the venue and you won't put on your dress until right before the ceremony. For all anyone cares, you could roll out of bed and stay in your pajamas.”

“A shower might be necessary,” she said, throwing her legs over the side of the bed, pausing a moment. “Stephanie will probably protest if her maid-of-honor smells of the stench of overworked pop star tour assistant.”

She had just gotten to her feet and was about to step off to the bathroom when her vision went fuzzy, then gradually black. Her body suddenly felt heavy, and she felt herself fall over – but she was just able to catch herself on the table next to her when her vision returned, bumping the hotel alarm clock and the contents of the table.

Hearing the scuffle, Lance turned around to see her knees buckled, holding herself up by the end table.

“Whoa,” he said, setting Liam quickly in the pop-up crib. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, using the table to gather her composure before sitting down on the bed. “Wow, I just got...really lightheaded for a minute there.”

“Maybe you should rethink that shower,” Lance said, coming to stand next to her. “In fact, maybe you should rethink the wedding altogether.”

“I am not missing my best friend's wedding,” she said. “I'll be fine. I just have this massive migraine.”

“I don't think Steph's gonna accept a 'headache' as a valid excuse for you not to be on the dance floor tonight,” he said.

She groaned. “Ugh. I forgot. How much dancing?”

“She spent three days putting together the playlist with the DJ,” he said. “JC's paying him more than the florist. My suggestion is to wear comfortable heels.”

She sighed as she lifted herself off the bed and headed off towards the bathroom.

“Her second husband better be a lot less tolerant,” she said as he laughed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you absolutely sure about this?”

Adeline peeked her head over the back of Stephanie's shoulder, looking at her friend in the mirror.

“Wow,” she said, in mock amazement. “I never thought I'd see the day Stephanie was unsure of something.”

“JC likes my hair down,” Stephanie said, shuffling her feet.

“Sweetheart, trust me,” Addy said, going back to working on the buttons of Stephanie's gown. “I got married in Atlantic City in an evening gown – less than the glamorous wedding I dreamed of. Do you think Lance was any less speechless when I walked through the door of the Justice's office? If JC's the right man, you can walk down the aisle naked and all he'll be able to think is 'I can't believe I'm marrying that girl'.”

Stephanie shuffled her weight again, and Addy dropped her hands.

“Would you quit squirming?” she huffed. “Unless you'd like to walk down the aisle with your panties peeking out when I button your train to your bustier.”

“This dress is insane, I don't know why I ever let you talk me into this one,” Stephanie said, lifting up the bottom of her gown slightly.

“Ha,” Addy said with a loud chuckle. “I think you have that backwards. I told you to go with the simple one because I knew I'd be the one helping you into it and buttoning it up. You know who is to blame for this.”

“My mother,” Stephanie hissed, as Adeline let 'your mother' escape out of her mouth at the same time.

Addy laughed. “At least she caved on something a little simpler for the reception.”

“She's gonna shit bricks when I walk out to the dance floor in flip-flops when she specifically told me she would disown me if I brought flip-flops anywhere near this building on my wedding day,” Stephanie said.

Addy chuckled. “Lance has given me his full permission to go barefoot, for the entire reception if necessary – especially after seeing these three-inch monstrosities.”

Both girls went quiet as Addy continued buttoning up the back of Stephanie's dress, finally reaching the halfway point of the delicate fabric-covered buttons that were barely more than dots.

“I'm not sure I'm cut out for this,” Stephanie said quietly.

“Cut out for what?” Addy asked. “This dress? What the fuck ever happened to just zipping up--”

“For being a wife,” Stephanie interrupted.

Addy glanced up. “What do you mean? It's not exactly rocket science.”

“What if I hate being tied down to one person for the rest of my life?” Stephanie asked. She tried to stay still as she felt Addy continue working. “What if I'm just not made for this 'clean the house, do the laundry, cook the meals' thing?”

Addy sighed. “You worked for Lance for how long?”

“Three years.”

“And in that time, what were your job duties?”

“Making sure he was awake, making the coffee, getting him a little breakfast, getting him to his appointments on time, making sure he had food and clean clothes, sometimes bringing him dinner, and making sure he didn't drink himself into oblivion every night.”

“Lance didn't hire us as assistants,” Addy said, glancing up as she cinched the dress slightly tighter to fit two buttons together. “He hired us as stand-in wives – only I had to wait two years to get the pretty ring and you never got it.”

Stephanie lightly laughed.

“The only wife-like thing you didn't do with Lance was have sex with him,” Addy said. “Assuming you've already had sex with JC and passed the test...you've spent almost ten years training for being a wife.”

“Who told you I never had sex with Lance?”

Stephanie winced and yelped when the dress tightened over her bodice enough to cut off air for a moment.

“Whoops,” Addy said dryly. “A bit too tight there, sorry.”

“Bitch,” Stephanie said with a small laugh.

An hour later, once she was sure that Stephanie's dress was buttoned up correctly and every strand of hair and mascara-lathered eyelash was perfectly in place, Addy walked down the hall and opened the door to the boys' room, where she knew they would be lounging.

“Oh God,” she said the minute she opened the door and she was assaulted with the smell of cigars.

“Cheese it, it's mom!” Justin said, lowering the fat cigar from his mouth.

“Justin Randall Timberlake,” Addy said. “I know you're not dousing those tuxes in that nasty smell!”

“Noooooo,” Justin said innocently. “Not me.”

She walked towards him, ripping the cigar from his hand.

“Hey!” he said as she stuffed it out in the glass ashtray on the table next to him.

“You want it, take it outside,” she said, giving him the unlit cigar back. “And go bathe yourself in cologne so you don't smell like an ashtray when you walk down the aisle.”

Justin pursed his lips as he took the cigar from her. She looked to Justin's right, seeing Joey sitting in a chair, holding an unlit cigar loosely in his mouth.

“It wasn't for me,” Joey said, smiling a little. “I was holding it for Justin. I swear.”

“Uh-huh.” She looked around the room seeing Lance sitting on a sofa at the other end of the room, and JC wrapping his cummerbund around his waist in front of the mirror. “Joanie and Chachi are here, where's the Fonz?”

“Chris disappeared like half an hour ago,” Lance said. “Said he needed some air.”

“No wonder, this place smells like a dive bar,” Addy said, turning her nose up at the lingering smell of Justin's cigar.

“That's the smell of a man, darlin'!” Justin said as she turned to walk out of the door.

“Boys are gross,” she said as she closed the door behind her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took her several minutes of searching, but she finally found Chris outside, sitting on the concrete sidewalk against the wall outside the garden, enjoying the quiet by himself.

“Hey.”

He looked up to see Adeline standing in front of him, in her bridesmaid's dress.

“Hey,” he said.

“I had to sneak away,” she said, walking towards him, her heels clicking on the ground. “It's madness back there.”

“The bride?”

“Justin,” she responded. “He's...well what can I say? He's being himself.”

Chris chuckled, looking over at her as she leaned down to kneel next to him.

“Are you sure you can handle this today, Chris?” she asked.

“Why wouldn't I?”

“Watching another of us walk down the aisle,” she said. “It's hard enough being around it all the time on the bus. Lance, Joey, Jace, hell, even Justin – all of us happy with someone. You know, we try, but sometimes we just can't help but feel like we shove it in your face.”

“That doesn't bother me,” Chris said.

Adeline cocked her head. “Alright, Chris – you give me no choice. I'm not a moron. We found the ring.”

Chris's head perked up and his eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“Lance and I, we found the ring,” she said. “The engagement ring, in your jacket pocket, two months ago – we found it. We know.”

He shook his head slightly, in confusion.

“Okay, one – how did you guys find that,” he said. “And two – why did you wait two months to tell me?”

“Somehow it ended up on our bus,” she said. “I thought it was Justin's, Lance knew it was yours, he felt the box in the pocket. He didn't think we should tell you we found it, he didn't want to just bring up more shit for you to deal with.”

“Oh, and you agreed with him – until today,” Chris said, looking at her with a smirk. “The day of my best friend's wedding. Addy, you have impeccable timing.”

“I know,” she groaned with a chuckle. “If Lance asks, this never happened – he'll kill me.”

He chuckled. “It doesn't matter. Every day is the same anyway. Wedding or not – there isn't a moment I don't think about it.”

“Chris.”

He looked up when he felt her put her hand on his shoulder.

“One day...”

“Stop,” he said, grinning. “Don't say it, Addy. I'm tired of everyone saying that one day, she'll realize she misses me and she'll come back...because they can't say that.”

Her eyes fell.

“Because the only person that decision is up to is her,” he said. “She's the only one who can say that. For everybody else, it's just an empty promise they're making because they know it's what I want to hear, because they think it will pull me out of my depression, and because they just hope that by saying it over and over it may actually happen.”

“And because we believe it,” she said softly.

“Four months,” he said. “That's way past believing, Ad. Don't lie to me, because everybody else is in the same position I'm in – hope is the only thing left.”

She sighed. “Don't fall into that deep, dark hole, Chris. We don't want to lose you.”

“It's not a hole,” he said. “I'm recovering. I'm being a realist, Addy. I passed the point where waiting for her to run back home and tell me she loves me was good for me, two months ago. All blindly believing was doing was digging me further into the hole – when every night, despite knowing realistically it wasn't going to happen, I was disappointed that she didn't show up and run into my arms.”

“Don't lose hope,” she said.

“I haven't lost hope,” he responded. “I still hope more than ever she'll saunter in through that door. I've just succumbed to convincing myself today will be that day, and when it doesn't happen, ultimately, being surprised and upset that it wasn't.”

She sighed, moving the skirt of her dress out of the way and sitting down next to him.

“Three years ago,” she started. “I was sitting in a bar in Los Angeles doing the same thing you are right now. Waiting and watching the man I loved get ready to marry someone who wasn't me, telling myself it didn't matter and I was over it. And I was talking to some guy, making small talk, pouring that pathetic sob story out to him, waiting to get myself drunk enough to go home with him...hoping that would help me finally move on.”

“Does Lance know about this?” he asked with a slight smile.

“I was just drunk enough that I barely know about it,” she said softly, slipping him a coy smile. “I tried, Chris – God, I tried. There wasn't enough alcohol in the world.”

“There wasn't for him, either,” he said. “Though from what I hear, he gave it his best effort.”

“The phone call,” she said, laughing. “Mmm.”

They both paused, their laughter dying down.

“We weren't over it,” she said. “When I opened that door and saw him standing there...I still loved him and he still loved me. He tried to make it work with Mackenzie and I tried to make it work with the bar guy – but it didn't work, it couldn't work because we both knew we were just waiting around for our stubborn pride to catch up with what our hearts wanted.”

“What's your point?” Chris asked.

“You're not over it – and I'm willing to bet you anything that she isn't either,” Addy said. “Eventually, her stubborn pride, or whatever is keeping her away, will catch up with what her heart wants. You just have to give it more time.”

Chris briefly looked her in the eyes before looking away. Everything she said was true on his end...but he didn't know how much more time he could give it before his own heart gave up the fight.

“Let's go,” she said quietly, patting his hand and smiling slightly. “We've got an aisle to walk down.”

Chapter 20 – Vegas Wedding (Part Two)

July 20, 2014 – Little Rock, Arkansas

Eric closed and latched the gate of the white fence as he walked up the gravel pathway of the cute little aging eggshell house outside of the hustle of Little Rock. Only a few steps inside, he kneeled down as a dog ran up to him, taking a moment to give the dog's head a rub.

He was ashamed that it had taken him over two months to fulfill his promise to Chief Andrews – but work had been busy. Three new cases had been dropped on his desk that week alone, and it had taken him this long to get arrests and cases brought up in two of them. The other still sat on his desk, growing cold – but he couldn't ignore this obligation any longer.

He stood back up away from the dog and continued walking up the gravel pathway, reaching the first step of the porch before he was surprised by a middle-aged woman walking out of the door, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.

“Can I help you?” she asked, a slight Southern accent in her voice.

“Yes, ma'am,” he said, smiling at her.

He reached the top of the porch and held his hand out to her.

“I'm sorry to disturb you in the middle of the day, ma'am,” he said. “I'm Detective Eric Rowe, of the Little Rock Police Department. Do you have a moment we could speak?”

“What's this about, if I may ask?” she said as she shook his hand.

“I hope I haven't scared ya, ma'am,” he said. “I wanted to ask you a few questions about two girls that came to visit you, about three months ago?”

“Are they in some kind of trouble?” the woman asked.

“Oh no, nothing like that, ma'am,” he said. “If I could just come in a few minutes – I only have some questions about what they came through for and what questions they asked, if that's okay with you.”

The woman paused a minute before softening.

“I have a few moments, Mr. Rowe,” she said, reaching behind her and putting her hand on the doorknob. “Come on in and I'll make us some coffee.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Las Vegas, Nevada

Addy smiled and looked over at her husband.

“My God, they actually did it,” she said.

He only mumbled a confirmation as he eyed JC and Stephanie dancing together.

“It kinda makes you glad we said screw it and ran off to AC, doesn't it?” she asked.

“Hell, yes,” he said, breathing out.

She laughed. “At least it's all over – they're married off and there's no more of the madness of long-distance wedding planning while cross-country touring. We can breathe again.”

“Well, for two days,” he responded. “Until Tuesday, when we're in Salt Lake City and it's back to touring.”

“Don't remind me,” she said.

The song ended and the DJ came over the mic to announce that it was time for the couple's first dance. Guests slowly cleared off the floor and gathered round, and Addy watched Stephanie and JC take their places on the floor for their number.

She smiled and let out a chuckle as the song started playing. With JC on the road all over the United States and Stephanie all the way back in New York too busy with her job to take any time away to tour, there was no time in the schedule for 'first dance' lessons – at least not together.

So Addy, always the boys' guinea pig, was Stephanie's stand-in for JC.

Courtney taught the two of them most of the final dance from Dirty Dancing. Addy was more than hesitant at first – after all, not only was it dancing, which she wasn't all that great at, but it was dancing with JC, and dirty dancing at that.

But once she got past the general weirdness of it all, with Lance and Justin along to watch them, and the nervousness that she would only end up having two left feet, she let go and found that she had a good time being twirled and swayed across the dance floor.

She smiled as JC dipped Stephanie, and then as the beat of the music picked up, grasped her hand and twirled her outward and back toward him.

As she watched the two of them twirl their way across the dance floor, she looked over at Lance, who was as focused as she was on them.

She stared at him only a few seconds before he noticed her out of the corner of his eye and glanced over.

“What?” he asked.

She only smiled.

“No,” he said with a smile.

She didn't speak, but she couldn't stop smiling.

“Not a chance,” he said. “Not in a million years. Keep dreaming.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Little Rock, Arkansas

“Sugar?”

Eric looked up at Mrs. Weston from his seat on the couch.

“Oh, no ma'am,” he said, putting his hand up. “I prefer my coffee black, thanks.”

The woman handed him a mug of the steaming liquid before she sat down in the chair to his left.

“I apologize if I startled you before,” he said as she made herself comfortable. “I realize it's probably a scary thing for a detective to show up at your door unannounced.”

“To tell you the truth, detective, it's something we're somewhat used to around here,” she said. “Though today, it was unexpected.”

“I understand,” he said. “I'll get right to the point, then, so you can get back to your life.”

He reached into his breast pocket for his notepad.

“Mrs. Weston, do you know two girls – Stephanie Andrews and Adeline James?”

She mumbled and shook her head. “No, those names don't sound familiar.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” he asked, opening the notebook and pulling out the picture that Chief Andrews had faxed over to him – the Chief's daughter with her friend at their college graduation. He placed it in front of her on the table. “If you could take a look at this picture of them...maybe they'll look familiar?”

He watched as the woman took the picture from the table and looked it over.

“Actually, yes, they do,” she finally said. “This one looks like one of the girls who came by a couple months ago.”

She sat the picture back on the table in front of him, her finger pointing to the Chief's daughter, Stephanie in the picture.

“I think the other one was with her, but she had blonde hair,” she said.

“Yes, I believe she does have blonde hair now,” he said.

“Are they in some kind of trouble?”

“No, ma'am,” he said.

“I'm sorry – what department did you say you were with, detective?” she asked.

“Missing Persons, ma'am.”

He watched her face become alarmed.

“Oh my God,” she said. “Are they okay?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, backtracking. “They're fine, don't worry. From what I hear they're both safe and sound in Las Vegas – although knowing Stephanie, safe might be an unfair assumption.”

He looked up at the woman, who was clearly confused.

“Stephanie is my old police chief's daughter,” he said. “I actually came here today to do him a bit of a favor. She's somewhat of a...troublemaker, at times. He found out that Stephanie came to visit you and your husband, with her friend Adeline...and he was curious what they came for. He didn't want his daughter causing...well, trouble.”

“Well, they were no trouble at all,” she said. “They were wonderful – respectful, caring. All they came for was to ask us some questions about our daughter.”

“Your daughter?” he asked.

“Yes. Melissa,” she said.

He briefly narrowed his eyebrows – why did that name sound familiar?

“Why would they come around asking about your daughter, Mrs. Weston?”

“They said they were friends with her back in New York,” she said. “But a few months ago, they said she disappeared on them – in the middle of the night, packed up her things and left. Left behind her boyfriend, her apartment, her friends.”

“With no warning?” he asked.

“Adeline said all she left was a note,” she said. “But for some reason, she didn't believe that Melissa wrote it herself.”

“Why wouldn't she believe that she wrote it herself?”

“Melissa...” She paused. “Melissa has a history, detective.”

“What kind of history?” he asked curiously.

The woman sighed, pushing her coffee cup towards the middle of the table and pushing herself off the chair.

“Our Melissa,” she said, walking over to the bookcase against the wall and pulling a book out of it. “She has gotten herself into a situation she can't get out of. No matter how hard she tries – and I truly believe she has tried.”

She cracked open the book and flipped to a certain page, laying it down in front of him.

“A man,” Mrs. Weston said. “A monster, really. We've done everything we know to help her – and we've all but given up.”

Eric leaned over to glance at the book, realizing it wasn't a book at all – in fact, it was a photo album. As sad as it made him, he couldn't say he was shocked when he saw the pictures of the beaten woman in front of him. He had seen it far too many times.

“The girls said Melissa was dating a man in New York – a friend of theirs,” she said. “She was happy...for the first time in a long time, as long as we can remember. One day, she up and disappeared – and nobody has heard from her since. Not even us.”

“She left a note?” he asked.

“Yes...depending on who you believe,” she said.

“Have the police looked into this at all?”

“The girls had a friend of theirs at the NYPD look into it, but they came up empty-handed,” she said, taking a sip out of her mug. “The fact is, I don't even think they tried very hard. It's unfortunately something we're used to – after so many years fighting the battle, you realize you can't win.”

He looked at the pictures in front of him. This is why he was made fun of...he looked at a beaten woman and took her under his wing, making it his mission to give her his life back.

And he was going to do it again. He had no idea how, since there was no official report open and he couldn't recognize the woman in the picture anyway. But he wasn't going to let that stop him.

“Not on my watch, ma'am,” he said.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Las Vegas, Nevada

“Hey pretty baby with the high heels on...”

Addy looked up from her strawberry drink concoction to see Justin standing in front of her.

“You give me fever like I've never, ever known,” he sang with a smile.

She smiled back. “Justin, what are you doing?”

“Dance with me, pretty lady,” he said, holding his hand out to her. “Michael is playing, you're the only girl here who isn't tipsy, and I'm feeling lonely.”

“Won't your girlfriend have something to say about that?” she asked, taking another sip through the straw.

“Courtney is off wooing Joseph, making Kelly incredibly jealous,” he said. “She doesn't know I exist right now. And your husband is off dancing with AJ, which I'm sure is making her very happy.”

Addy looked to the dance floor to see Lance and AJ, the group's bass player, dancing together happily to “The Way You Make Me Feel”.

“And why would I want to dance with you?” she asked, looking back at Justin.

“'Cause I'm Justin Timberlake,” he said with a mild scoff.

She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, that doesn't work on me, Justin. That actually works against you.”

“Addy, just...okay?” he said.

She giggled. “I don't know, Justin. I have a headache.”

“One dance,” he said, holding up his index finger. “Come on. Let's show Lance and AJ how to really cut a rug.”

She smiled. “Fine,” she said softly.

Justin smiled and took her hand as she stood up out of the chair and he walked her over to the dance floor.

“Let's tear up this dance floor, baby doll,” he said with a smile and a wink.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chris flicked the lighter, holding the flame to the end of the cigar for a few moments until it glowed a bright orange-red. He took a puff, billowing out a thick puff of smoke from his mouth.

He hadn't smoked a cigar in ages, but out here in the peaceful serenity of the garden, the sound of the gurgling fountain in front of him, was the only place he felt he could smoke one in silence.

Addy was right – he couldn't handle the wedding. Luckily, he forced himself to make it through the ceremony to be one of JC's best men, but half an hour into the reception, he had to leave, and he'd been out here ever since.

Addy clung tightly to him for a few minutes, trying to be a good friend who knew he was going through a hard time. But after a while, she had gravitated towards the rest of them to have fun, down a drink or two, and dance with her husband. Chris had seemed to fade into the background as the rest of his friends danced and celebrated the happy occasion.

He was happy for JC and Stephanie. It was just too hard to let loose and have fun.

He leaned his head back against the concrete bench and blew out another puff of smoke, staring up at the twinkling stars above him. It was a clear night, hardly a cloud or a breath of air. Away from the lights and chaos of the gambling center of the city, it was the last sight you would expect to see in Vegas, but it was just what he needed tonight.

Looking out at the infinite night sky...she was out there. Somewhere. He didn't know where. And she didn't make it easy to find her either. Knowing she was probably somewhere around the Little Rock area, Addy had even gone out to find her...only to come back empty-handed.

The last place he expected her to show up – Little Rock, exactly where they thought she would be, and exactly where they didn't find her when they searched – she showed up. Unannounced. Unexpected.

For a while, he had hung on to the idea that she had left unwillingly, intimidated by her ex-boyfriend. That idea became nothing more than a false sense of security when she had showed up. She had no visible marks that clued him in to the fact that maybe it was true, that she had gone back to her abusive ex to keep them both safe. In fact, she had never looked better.

“Chris!”

He heard a door slam, and looked up to see AJ and Justin running toward him. AJ held her long dress up in her hands to avoid tripping over it in her long heels.

“We've been looking for you,” Justin said breathlessly, his chest heaving in his light blue tie and vest, apparently shedding his suit jacket a long time ago.

“What's going on?” Chris asked, standing up as they stopped in front of him.

“It's Addy,” AJ said, looking terrified. “She just passed out.”

Chapter 21 – I Need Her

Lance craned his neck in a circular motion, feeling and hearing the joints crack underneath his skin. He sighed, shifting his weight from his right foot to his left and placing his hands in his pockets as he leaned his body against the hallway wall.

“Dude, you're making me fucking dizzy.”

Joey clamped his hand down on Justin's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks as the youngest one paced in circles a few feet away in the hospital waiting area.

“You're wearing a crop circle in the carpet,” Joey said, grasping a cup of coffee in his other hand. “Chill out.”

“Can't,” Justin said, noticing he had been biting his thumbnail.

“He's the only one of us who isn't hopped up on enough coffee to reanimate the morgue,” JC asked Joey. “How are we still dog-ass tired and he can't stop moving?”

Joey only shrugged, walking away from Justin.

“She was in my arms,” Justin said.

Even though he said it quietly, Lance caught it and glanced over at Justin, who had gone back to biting his fingernail. The youngest member looked up at him as well, meeting his eyes before looking down. Justin wouldn't say it, but Lance knew he couldn't look him in the eyes now because Justin felt a mixture of guilt and fear.

He had been the only one to look Adeline in the eyes right before she had collapsed. Lance had been on the dance floor, still dancing with AJ. They had been laughing and joking with each other before he had glanced over and saw Stephanie and Justin both catching her before she fell to the floor.

Lance glanced back, seeing AJ standing by herself behind him near a sign on the wall, still wearing her dress. Whereas Stephanie and the others went to change into more nondescript clothes from their wedding attire, Justin, Lance and AJ had all rushed to the hospital in what they had on. Lance had ditched his suit jacket in the car, but he was still wearing the tie, the light blue vest, and the cummerbund, just like Justin.

“AJ, you should go back to the hotel,” he said. “Change out of that dress. Get some sleep.”

She shook her head, not looking up at him. “I'm fine,” she said quietly.

The youngest of them all, at only 25, the bass player and Addy had kindled a friendship recently, and he knew the incident had shaken her up as much as it had the rest of them.

“She had a headache,” Justin said. “I shouldn't have made her dance with me.”

“It's not your fault, Justin,” Lance said. “She had a headache all day. She was popping Tylenol like it was candy. If anything, I should have made her go back the hotel.”

“It's nobody's fault, alright?” Joey said, looking between the two of them. “You both know Addy. Nobody makes her do anything. She would have told you to stop treating her like an invalid, and she would have told you to go fly a kite if she didn't feel like dancing.”

Stephanie lightly chuckled, even though the mood in the room was somber.

“It's true,” she said.

“I think she would have chosen different words than 'fly a kite' though,” JC said.

“Probably not repeatable ones,” Stephanie said.

“The first date we ever went on,” Lance said, and everybody turned to look at him. “That night I dragged her to the club. She made me list all the things I hated about her, every negative attribute that I hated. Then she made me tell her why.”

“As if we didn't know why,” Stephanie said.

“I told her she was obsessive-compulsive, emotional, and boring,” he said. “I said I hated all those things about her, but I didn't. I mean, yeah, it always got a little annoying when she'd insist on all the dishes being put a certain way in the dishwasher or yelling because I didn't fold my towels 'the right way', but...I loved how she'd cry at the end of a movie and bury her face in my shoulder, and then yell at me for laughing at her. I loved how she'd get so feisty when she didn't like something I did.”

“I roomed with her for one semester in college,” Stephanie said, holding up a single index finger. “One. That's how long it took for her to drive me crazy with her eccentric little compulsions. That's how long it took for me to decide that it was better to save the friendship and move out than to kill her for being a little clean freak. But God, I still love her for it.”

“She's fine,” Joey said. “We don't need to be talking about her like this. In a week, we'll all forget that any of this happened because she'll be back on the road with us, yelling at us for leaving shirts all over the couches.”

“For leaving our wet towels on the bathroom floor,” JC said.

“For folding the clean towels wrong,” Chris, silent up until now, said.

Lance cleared his throat, running his fingers over the back of his head where the short hairs prickled his hand, signaling that he needed a haircut.

“I'm going for a walk,” he said, pushing his arm off the wall.

“But,” Chris started, “the doctor--”

“I just need some air,” Lance said as he walked slowly past the chairs gathered around the room. “I won't be gone long.”

“What if--” Justin said.

“Come get me,” Lance said shortly before walking away from all of them.

He walked down the completely silent emergency room hallway, past the admittance desk where the secretary briefly looked up at him before going back to her computer. He listened to his dress shoes click too loudly against the shiny linoleum floors, avoiding every stray staff person who happened to walk past him.

He turned a couple of corners before he heard the silence turn to crying, and he came up on his mother, holding a fussy Liam, trying to console him.

Her head perked from the baby when she saw her son walk toward her.

“Any--”

“No,” Lance said, interrupting her before she could ask. “I'm going crazy.”

Her face fell, but she looked back at Liam when he started fussing again.

“He's cranky,” she said, bouncing gently with him. “He's not hungry, I've changed him twice, and I can't even get him to lay his head down on my shoulder.”

“He's not the only one who's cranky,” Lance said. “Give him to me.”

Lance held his arms out as his mother handed the baby over. Liam, tears in his eyes and a pacifier in his mouth, only whined for a moment and rubbed his hands over his tired eyes before he settled into his father's arms and laid his head on his shoulder.

“I'm going outside to get some air,” Lance said as he took the sippy cup and the ever-present sock monkey from his mother's hand.

“I'll go back and sit with the boys,” Diane said.

“Do me a favor,” Lance said, maneuvering to reach into his pocket and pull out his wallet. He handed it to his mom. “Get Jace and Joe some coffee – and get Justin to sit down before he wears a hole in the carpet.”

Diane smiled. “I'll try.”

“Thanks, mom.”

“No problem, sweetie,” she said, rubbing his back before walking away down the hall, her heels clicking louder against the hard floors.

He watched her disappear around the corner before he looked to his shoulder, seeing his son staring up at him with big, tired green eyes.

“Oh, hey buddy,” he said softly. “Let's go outside.”

He walked the rest of the way down the hallway before he reached the emergency room doors that automatically slid open for him. He walked a few feet away from the doorway before sliding down to sit against the brick wall of the building, sitting Indian-style with Liam on his leg, hugging him to his body.

“It's been a long night, bud,” he said with a sigh.

He watched as Liam reached down for the sock monkey, grabbing it out of his hand. As his son clasped his toy to his chest, Lance ran a hand through his son's hair.

“What are you doing with this?” he said, touching the pacifier in Liam's mouth. “Didn't mama take that away from you?”

Liam whined and turned his head, pushing Lance's hand away when he tried to pop the pacifier out of his mouth.

“Okay, okay,” Lance said, giving up. “You can keep it. But don't tell mama, or she might hurt us.”

Not making a sound, Liam went on with the pacifier in his mouth and holding the sock monkey up to himself.

“I don't blame you,” Lance said. “I wouldn't want to give it up either. Sometimes I wish it was that simple for me, too – I guess, to be a kid again.”

He ran his hand through Liam's hair again, watching the blonde strands pop back into their places.

“But then I guess if I was a kid again, I wouldn't know your mama – and I wouldn't have you.”

As Liam dropped the sock monkey out of his hands and into Lance's lap, and Lance reached down to pick it up and hand it back to his son, he realized, suddenly, how overwhelmingly sad he was. He hadn't felt this way since the night at his apartment he had tried to drown his sorrows in a bottle of vodka and ended up on his bedroom floor, armed with only a phone number and a single bad decision.

It was that feeling that, even though he rarely cried and could usually hold his emotions in pretty well, was so overwhelming that he couldn't keep it inside.

This time it was him who buried his face in his son's shoulder, biting his lip and trying to will those tears to go away.

“Five?”

Adeline swallowed the newly-brewed coffee she had just tipped back into her mouth, wincing slightly at the temperature.

“Mmm,” she mumbled as she swallowed. “Yeah, five.”

“I can't do five,” Lance said, turning his head to look at her from the counter, where he was stirring sugar into his own mug.

“Why not?” she asked.

“I have an interview.”

“You don't have an interview,” she said, glancing over at him before looking back at her appointment book. “You just don't want to go.”

He turned around to face her, leaning his back side up against the counter.

“Do you blame me?” he asked before lifting the mug to his lips.

She looked at him and smiled. He had barely woken up. He was standing in front of her wearing the lounge pants he had slept in, with no shirt. His blonde hair spiked crazily all over his head, because he had rolled out of bed and went immediately to the caffeine, without even running a hand through his hair. His green eyes were still tired.

“I can't get you out of it,” she said.

“Yes you can,” he said, smiling at her. “You're Adeline James. Miracle worker. You can get me out of anything if you really want to.”

“And you assume I want to,” she said.

“You want to,” he said. “Because you'd much rather change back into your pajamas, curl up on the couch with a blanket, and spend the day watching movies with me.”

She sighed, glancing out his patio window just outside his living room. It had been raining since she woke up that morning, at least an hour and a half ago, and it had not let up any. Luckily, it was still warm enough that the rain hadn't turned to snow, but if the weatherman's predictions were correct, within a couple hours, the temperature would drop below the freezing threshold and they would be in for a small snowstorm.

“What we want to do and what our jobs require us to do are two different things,” she said, standing up and walking toward him. “And you...” She poked his chest with her index finger. “Your job requires you to actually make public appearances.”

“Need I bring up JC again?” he asked.

“Need I bring up the fact that you're not JC again?” she asked. “JC gets away with burying his head in his hidey-hole and being a hermit, and it works for him. The rest of us...well, we actually have to go outside and be social with people, fans – or they don't give us money for being famous.”

“Famous, schmamous,” he said. “It's raining. Nobody cares, Addy.”

She rolled her eyes and opened the fridge door, grabbing the cream cheese for the bagel she was planning to make herself. As she shut the door, she felt his hand grab her arm.

Looking up in surprise, she was met with his eyes looking down at her.

“I need this day with you,” he said softly.

She looked into his eyes, swallowing as she listened to the rain ping against his kitchen window.

“You're like a kid trying to get out of going to school,” she said with a slight smile and chuckle.

He smiled, pulling her closer to him.

“I guess I could call and tell them you have a bad case of pink eye,” she said, feeling softened as she felt his hand on her skin. “Nobody will want to be around you then.”

He fake coughed twice, then cleared his throat loudly. “I do feel a little something coming on...”

She laughed as his hand moved up to her forearm. She closed her eyes and sighed as his fingertips brushed against her skin softly.

“Lance,” she whispered.

“Adeline,” he said, moving his fingertips softly from her arm to her back.

“I need to hear you say it,” she said.

“That I'm sick and can't go to work today?” he whispered, moving his other arm around to her waist.

“That,” she said, “and that you need me.”

“I need her,” he said to thin air, lifting his head from his son's shoulder and wiping the stray tears away with his thumb and index finger. “I need her in my life as bad today as I needed her that day.”

He took a few minutes to recover, and after a few more, the tears were forgotten as he watched Liam drop the monkey and continue to pick it up from his lap. Eventually, he grew more weary in his arms, rubbing his eyes and eventually settling down to lay his head on Lance's shoulder and close his eyes.

Lance was leaning his head against his sleeping son's head on his shoulder when the automatic doors opened.

“Lance?”

He looked up to see Stephanie walking toward them, her arms crossed against her chest.

“She's okay,” she said softly, seeing that Liam was asleep. “They want to keep her overnight though, to make sure she stays off her feet and gets some rest.”

“Where is she?” he asked, already fumbling to his feet, trying not to wake the sleeping boy in his arms.

“Room 302,” Stephanie said, taking Liam from him gently as he handed him over to her.

He didn't wait for another response. As soon as he was sure Liam was safe in Stephanie's arms, he ran straight through the sliding doors, all the way down the hallway. He avoided the waiting room, running down every hallway, past every sign with an arrow that promised the elevator would soon appear.

He slipped inside as an empty elevator was closing and slammed his finger on the “3” button. By the time the door opened to the third floor, the slowest elevator ride of his life was forgotten as he ran out the doors and past the nurse's station to the second door on his left, ignoring their protests that it was past visiting hours.

He opened the door softly and stepped inside, preparing himself for whatever he would see.

He was surprised to see her propped up in bed, fixing her hair that was in a disarray from her wedding updo, with the TV playing softly.

“Ad,” he said softly.

She looked up from plucking a bobby pin out of her hair and smiled.

“I ruin every party we try to have,” she said.

He laughed, for the first time that night.

“God, honey, I'm so sorry,” she said. She pulled the last pin out of her and ran her hands through her blonde hair, quickly pulling it into a pseudo-bun and securing it with a ponytail holder. “I ruined the reception.”

“No one cares about that,” he said, walking over to her bedside. “All we care about is that you're okay.”

“I'm fine,” she said, pulling him into a hug when he came to sit beside her.

He leaned his nose into her neck, smelling her body wash.

“I'm sure that once Steph knows that I'm okay, she'll have her jabs about me ending up in the ER by the end of her wedding,” she said.

Lance only chuckled.

“I never got to talk to the doctor,” he said. “Did he say what happened?”

She paused. “Actually, he did.”

He watched the corners of her lips turn into a smile.

“Well?” he said, slightly chuckling. “I waited in the room for two hours about to have a heart attack, now all you can do is smile.”

She placed her hands over his and squeezed them, clearing her throat.

“Lance, I'm pregnant.”

Chapter 22 – Drink You Away

Little Rock, Arkansas – September 15, 2014

Mel pressed her lips together, spreading the lip gloss she had just coated them with across the length of her lips. She put the cap back on the bottle, pushing the brush down and twisted it back on, shoving the lip gloss back into her makeup bag before using an index finger to wipe away the excess from the corner of her lips.

She placed her makeup bag back in the basket on top of the counter and looked up into the mirror. Seeing her made up face, already in her work uniform, with her hair piled up in a towel on top of her head, she sighed.

She hated this part of the morning – just after taking her shower, pulling her hair out of the coil on top of her head, and seeing it in the mirror.

It felt like she wasn't even staring at herself anymore.

She reached up and unwrapped the towel, letting the dark brown hair fall down to her shoulders.

At least she could say this was something she had done on her own, and not been forced to do – but that was the only thing she could say about it.

She grabbed the brush and started running it through her hair, hating the person staring back at her in the mirror. She had decided to dye it back in May. Just after her encounter with her not-new, but yet unknown neighbor, she could say she was spooked. She had no idea that, all this time, she had been living right next door to, of all people, a cop.

To anyone else, it would be a source of comfort. Even to an outsider like Gina, who knew the true story about what went on behind closed doors, it would seem like a comfort – an easy way for Melissa to find an escape from her shackles. In reality, it made Mel's precarious situation even more dangerous for her.

If Derek found out their neighbor's true profession, he would be spooked too – but he would turn into a crazed, frightened, threatened animal.

He had become even more unpredictable, as if Mel thought that was even possible. His drinking had ramped up. It had started back around April, after the concert, after their huge fight that had ended with what felt like a hundred bruises to cover up. Following the usual high and low of his moods, after the 'high' of the beating came the 'low' – the incredible guilt. A million apologies. Drunkenly staggering in after a night at the bar. The promises that he would never do it again – empty promises of course, because before he had even turned around, she had done something else wrong, which earned her another black eye or another bruise to cover up.

The highs had become so high that the lows got even lower – and eventually, he was out at the bar every night, for hours upon hours, drinking it all away. And instead of stumbling inside the door and putting himself to sleep by passing out, this time he had started stumbling straight to the recliner after grabbing a bottle of Jack, Jim, vodka, or even cheap wine if it was all they had around...anything to continue drinking.

Most nights she spent working ten- or twelve-hour shifts at the diner – still being punished by Victoria after missing so much work because of injuries she couldn't fake away or bruises she couldn't hide – only to come home as late as midnight and find him far past drunk and into alcohol-poisoning levels, debating whether to pile him into the car and take him to the hospital or let him sleep it off...secretly hoping that sleeping it off was the worst thing he could do and God would grant her a merciful exit out of Hell.

Every night, she decided that she couldn't take the risk of driving him to the hospital, for fear they would realize what he had been doing to her and call the cops. Every night, she dragged him up the stairs and into bed all by herself. Every night, she knelt down by the recliner and picked up empty glass and plastic bottles to put them into the trash, some nights even finding broken glass surrounding the chair from him stumbling and knocking over things.

He woke up later and later every morning, and every morning he woke up more hung over – and eventually, not to her surprise, he lost his job.

And for the past month, while he was left at home to do nothing but drink himself into a stupor, she had absolutely no escape from him. He was there when she left for work. He was there when she came home from work. There was no time that he was away from the house anymore, no time she could breathe a sigh of relief and feel safe for even a few minutes.

At night, after his messes were cleaned up and he was passed out snoring next to her, she laid in bed and wondered – could she slip on her shoes, tip-toe down the stairs, out the door, go next door, and end all of it? Could she manage to actually escape? Did she even want to? Had she somehow convinced herself that trying to escape would no doubt fail because for some sick reason, she wanted to stay?

It led to hours of pondering whether she kept herself in this situation because she wanted to punish herself for what she had done to Chris.

It sounded crazy even to her. She couldn't imagine being so self-hating that she would voluntarily keep herself in a dangerous, maybe even deadly, situation because she thought so little of herself and her life. But when she took a long look at her life, she realized it wasn't so crazy after all.

She hated herself. She thought of herself as worthless. She couldn't stand to look at herself in the mirror anymore. And when she looked deep, hard...she wished for death more than she wanted to admit.

She ran the brush through her hair once more before she lowered it to the counter. She lifted her hands and using her fingers, combed the dark brunette hair up, securing it with a ponytail holder.

Derek wasn't the only one who had lost himself and was still struggling to find his way back. So was she.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lexington, Kentucky – September 15, 2014

“Justin Timberlake, if you don't come out of that dressing room in five seconds I'll pull out the tear gas!”

“You don't have tear gas!” Justin's muffled voice came back through the door. “I ain't 'fraid of you, woman!”

Stephanie stomped her foot on the hard cement floor, letting out a muffled scream.

“Justin, I swear to God, I will hurt you!” she yelled. “I will walk in there, grab you by the hair, and drag you to the set if you don't come out right NOW!”

“Bring it!” Justin yelled back. “Do your worst! I dare ya!”

“Argh – Justin!” she yelled, letting out another throaty but muffled scream. “I am on the feeblest thread of my very last nerve and if you don't come out right now, I'll--”

“Justin, your hair is fine, now get the hell out of your room before they decide to do the video without you.”

Stephanie looked over to see Adeline standing next to her, looking at her with a grin.

“He doesn't respond to violence,” she said. “Play to his ego – it scares him a lot more.”

“If I have a mental breakdown and end up killing him,” Stephanie said, “will you testify in court that I was legally, criminally insane?”

“I can, but you know, for that to work you'd have to have been sane before he got on your last nerve,” Addy said. “Unfortunately, I don't think Lance will be willing to testify to that.”

“I--”

As Stephanie opened her mouth to react, she was surprised by the door in front of her opening, and Justin walking out, glancing at her.

“See, I'm done,” he said coolly. “Geez, Steph, go take a Midol.”

Adeline laughed as Justin walked away, leaving Stephanie fuming.

“It's so nice to be on the other side of this door for once,” Addy said.

“I'm done,” Stephanie said. “I quit. Ad, I can't be the tour assistant anymore. Here, you can have it back.”

Adeline held her hands up as Stephanie attempted to hand over her clipboard.

“Oh no,” she said, shaking her head. “I'm officially out of the business. I am no longer anyone's personal assistant. For the next five months I am a baby incubator – after that, my only job is breastfeeding, changing diapers, and arranging playdates.”

“You know, every time you get knocked up, we're the only ones that suffer,” Stephanie said, pointing a finger in the air at Addy's chest. “But no more. Because if I have anything to do with it, Lance will not be procreating again anytime soon.”

Adeline smiled as Stephanie walked away, muffed, shoving Lance with her hand as she passed him and he tried to speak to her.

“...the hell is her problem?” Lance asked as he approached Addy, with a shocked look on his face.

“Growing pains of being a tour assistant,” Addy said. “Can I make a suggestion?”

“Huh?” Lance asked.

“If I were you, I'd wear a cup.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I've tried Jack, I've tried Jim, I've tried all of their friends...”

Chris strummed the strings quietly on the acoustic guitar, letting his fingers fall violently on the strings one last time to make a harsh brummmmm sound before sighing. He looked up, seeing the rest of the boys milling around the new music video set – a Tennessee bar vibe.

“They need real alcohol here.”

He looked beside him, seeing a dark-haired female standing next to him, leaning against the bar twirling her finger around her thick glass.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“Well, it's supposed to be a bar,” she said. “It's a song about Jack and Jim. You kind of expect Jack and Jim – not ginger ale.”

“It's not a...real bar,” he said.

“Clearly, because no self-respecting real bar would serve ginger ale in a whiskey glass,” she said.

He was silent a moment in confusion, until the corners of her mouth turned up.

“You know I was joking, right?” she asked. “Actually, more like striking up conversation. I mean, I'm not that dumb.”

“Oh,” he said with a slight laugh. “I probably should have picked up on that.”

“I'm Mila,” she said, holding her hand out for him to shake. “Mila Kunis.”

“Yeah,” he said with another chuckle. “I...uh...I know who you are. I'm Chris.”

“Yeah, I sort of gathered that,” she said as she shook his hand. “Seeing as I know Justin and I met JC, Lance, and Joey already.”

“That's right,” he said.

They both chuckled, each of them looking away from each other for a moment before she looked back at him.

“The only way this scenario will be complete is if one of us comes out with some really lame pick-up line,” she said.

“Oh, I don't know any of those,” he said. Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes at her. “Hey, is that a bruise on your cheek?”

The smile disappeared from her face as she touched her cheek where he was staring.

“Where?” she asked.

“Right here,” he said, touching the apple of her cheek softly. “Oh, I know what must have happened.”

“What?”

“You must have hit yourself when you fell from Heaven,” he said.

She rolled her eyes as relief washed over her face, eventually breaking out into a laugh.

“Oh, that was smooth,” she said. “Really, really smooth.”

“You asked, I delivered,” he said, a smug grin on his face.

As lame as it was, he could say that it was the first time he had truly laughed with a woman since...Melissa.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I don't like her.”

Adeline looked up from her book, looking at Stephanie in the director's chair next to her.

“What are you getting on about now?” Addy asked.

“Mila,” Stephanie said.

Adeline followed Stephanie's path of sight, seeing that she was staring at Chris and Mila, the female star of the video, next to the bar on the set.

“I don't like her,” Stephanie repeated.

“You don't know her,” Adeline said.

“I don't have to know her,” Steph responded. “She's here now, and I can already tell you I don't like her.”

“Yeah but you don't like most people. And there doesn't have to be a reason, either. You can dislike them on principle.”

“Oh, there's reasons,” Stephanie said. “I don't know them yet, but there's reasons. There's something about her.”

“God, here we go,” Addy said, her eyes traveling back to her book as she gingerly turned the page.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Steph said, glancing over at her friend with an accusing look.

Adeline sighed. “It's always something. You never know what it is, but it's something. Just something about her that you don't like. Just something that tells you two people are meant to be with each other. Classic example--”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, you're still bitter that I set you up with Lance even though it's four years later and you're married and deliriously happy and somehow in the middle of all your bitterness you got knocked up again. It's getting old, Ad.”

“For your information, I was going to say a classic example was back in college,” Addy said. “When you tried to set your roommate up with that guy from Alpha Epsilon Pi. What was your roommate's name again?”

“Heather,” Stephanie said, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Heather, that's right,” Addy said. “Heather Morris, she was the one who was studying German culture. And you didn't know that Alpha Epsilon Pi was a Jewish frat.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Steph said. “Not one of my shining moments. After that, I learned to do a little more research.”

“My point is, Lance and I withstanding, you don't have the best track record when it comes to following your gut feelings about people and situations. You need to re-tune your psychic radar.”

“Make fun of me,” Stephanie said. “But you mark my words...she is nothing but trouble. Just look at her.”

Adeline rolled her eyes, but looked up and over at Mila.

“Look at the way she's acting with Chris. She might as well wear a scarlet letter on her chest that says 'black widow'. A big, black 'M', for Maneater. The way she's puffing her ass up and wiggling it in front of him.”

Adeline shook her head as they stared, seeing Mila leaning against the bar, her behind sticking out as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

“She's laughing at all of his jokes – when we all know that Chris isn't that funny.”

“Oh yeah,” Addy said sarcastically. “There's no way she could actually be amused by him.”

“He's funny, but he's not 'ass wiggling' funny,” Stephanie said. “She's doing that allure thing.”

“Allure...thing?” Addy asked.

Stephanie batted her eyelashes, puffing out her lips and throwing her hand up in an exaggerated pose.

“Oh, Chris, you're so hilarious,” she said in a high-pitched voice. “Take me back to your dressing room and bend me over the table.”

“You're vulgar,” Addy said.

“Oh, Lance,” Stephanie said, her voice slightly lower and more seductive. “I love your sexy green eyes. Your wife is asleep – take me back to the set, throw me up on the bar, and--”

“Enough,” Addy said. “You're making up stories in your head again because you've been reading too many trashy novels.”

“I have not,” Stephanie said insistently. “I don't need things like that anymore, I have a most exciting sex life, thank you.”

“Gross,” Addy said. “I don't want to know. It's bad enough just taking wild guesses.”

“That woman,” Stephanie said, pointing at Mila. “She is going to destroy Chris if he lets her come anywhere near him. She will lure him in, have her way with him, devour him, chew him up, and spit him out.”

“I'd like to live inside your head for one day,” Addy said, smiling. “It's probably like the dark version of Candyland. It has to be fun.”

They both went quiet as the director called for complete silence on the set, signaling Mila and the boys to their places. Adeline watched with a smile as Stephanie scowled, her legs crossed in front of her, watching as cameras moved in and they prepared to do even more shooting. She went back to her book, but had only managed to read a paragraph before the music started playing in the background and she distractedly looked up to see the filming.

Her eyes couldn't help but move to Lance, who had taken his place at the pool table to play his rousing, fake game with JC. She watched as he reared the cue back in his hand, pushing it forward and sending the cue ball spinning towards the balls and spreading them across the table with a loud crack. On the director's prompt, both JC and Lance's eyes moved to Mila, walking through the door of the bar in her short jean shorts, shaking her hips back and forth with a sway.

And suddenly, out of nowhere, she felt a pang of jealousy hit her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Little Rock, Arkansas

“Table thirteen – order up!”

Melissa blew a stray wisp of hair out of her face as it fell in front of her eyes when she leaned down to scrub the sponge against the plate in her hand. Sweat dripped down her forehead as she fought to stay cool against the steamy temperature of the kitchen as George cooked, in addition to the temperature of the dish water.

“Heya, Vic,” Gina said as she blew through the swinging doors of the kitchen, smacking her gum in her mouth. “Ya wanna take my tables for me? Just for a couple minutes?”

“I'm not here to do your job for you, Gina,” Victoria said. She held a clipboard in her hand as she ran her hands over the shelves of boxes; it was her regular inventory night.

“Come on, I just need a little break,” Gina said.

“You can take your little break when your regular break comes up,” Victoria said.

“Vic, not that kind of break,” Gina said. “I need a ladies' break.”

Mel glanced over to see the two of them standing next to each other, in the beginning of what could become a classic Gina-to-Victoria showdown.

“A ladies' break?” Vic asked.

“You know, a trip to the...” Gina lowered her voice, glancing back to make sure that George wasn't listening too closely. “...little girls' room.”

“You gotta pee, do it on your own time,” Victoria said, not bothering to lower her voice. “I'm not here to hand out hall passes.”

“No, Vic,” Gina said insistently. “You're not understanding. I gotta go to the ladies' room.”

Victoria stared at Gina for a long time before rolling her eyes, setting the clipboard on top of a stack of the boxes.

“Like it's a fucking code,” Victoria said, grabbing a spare apron off a hook and wrapping it around her waist. “Some big secret.”

Melissa chuckled slightly as she watched Gina bounce, and Victoria succumb, annoyed.

“Next time you get your period, give me a cheat sheet of the hieroglyphs beforehand, so I can be prepared,” Victoria asked before she walked away, preparing to take over Gina's job as waitress.

“She's in a pissy mood again today,” Gina said, smacking her gum as she walked toward Melissa. “Guess it's a good thing I also didn't ask 'er for a tampon, huh?”

“She mighta thrown it at you,” Melissa said.

“Well, I guess I'll hafta ask you, then,” Gina said. “Do ya have one I can take?”

Mel looked up to see Gina already heading toward her purse on the hook.

“No, sorry Gina,” she said. “Guess you'll have to ask Vic after all.”

Gina paused, turning to look at Melissa.

“You didn't have any last month either,” she said, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her apron. “Isn't that weird, Mel?”

“That you can't seem to bring your own feminine products to work with you? Maybe a little,” Mel said with a slight smile.

“No, that when I ask, you don't seem to have any of your own to give out,” Gina responded. “Two months in a row.”

Melissa looked away.

“Melissa?” Gina asked. “Are you...?”

Melissa lifted her hands out of the water, giving them a quick shake. She used her apron to wipe her hands, quickly walking through the kitchen and bursting through the swinging door, avoiding the glances from Gina and George.

“Oh, shit,” Gina said as she turned to look at George.

Chapter 23 – Who Am I?

Little Rock, Arkansas – September 15, 2014

“What are you going to do?”

Melissa was unsure whether it was Gina or Victoria that spoke as she sat in the booth, surrounded by everyone, including George, after the diner had closed that night.

“What can I do?” she asked.

“Do you even know? For sure?” Victoria asked as Melissa looked up at them.

“No,” Melissa said with a sniffle. “I don't think I want to know.”

“Well, this isn't like you're just wonderin' about yourself, ya know,” Victoria said. “Either way, ya should find out.”

Melissa shook her head a little, wiping away another tear. A baby. With Derek. The thought made her sick whether she was pregnant or not.

“I don't want to think about it.”

“So you're gonna ignore it?” Gina asked, surprised.

“I'm going to just pretend you didn't say anything earlier. I don't want a baby with Derek,” Melissa half-whispered, looking at the three of them. “It wouldn't be the baby's fault. I would love it, but...” She covered her mouth with her hand and let out a sob. She couldn't explain to them how she felt. Wiping her eyes furiously with the back of her hand, Melissa took the tissue George handed her and used it, crumpling it up and holding it in her hand.

“I need to go home. I...I have things to do.” She got up quickly and looked at them all. “Please...I don't want to talk about it anymore. Just drop it.” She glared at Gina as she was about to speak. Melissa left them sitting there as she went to get her coat.

“Just because you don't wanna talk about somethin' or wanna ignore it...that don't make it go away,” Victoria said as Melissa walked by to leave. “We care about ya, ya know?”

Melissa paused, her hand on the door, and nodded.

“I know. See you tomorrow.”

The air was getting cooler at night and she paused at Derek's truck as she unlocked it. It was barely running, but there was no money to fix it. She was just trying to make enough to make ends meet, and sometimes not doing that. The tip money she had in her pocket had to go to gas and some groceries the next day. But at the present moment, she was more terrified of the possibility of being pregnant.

Getting in the truck, she started the vehicle up and prayed it would get her back to their house. A tear slipped down her face as she pulled out into the traffic. This wasn't what she had planned on at all.

“That was fun,” Chris half-whispered, barely paying attention to the movie they were watching while laying on the couch. “I'm not sure we'll ever get the green crayon off the tub.”

He dropped a kiss on Melissa's neck, her body against his. They'd watched Liam for Lance and Adeline for the weekend. The zoo had been a success, with their young charge passing out in the car on the way home, clutching his sock monkey and a new stuffed zebra.

Melissa nodded. “It was. I'm not sure who had more fun, you or Li Li. I think I'd call it a tie for the petting zoo.” She grinned, turning her head to kiss Chris. “And yes, the green will come out of the bathtub.”

“What would you think if we had one?” Chris asked quickly, waiting for her reaction. “A baby I mean.”

Melissa felt his hand sneak under her shirt and his fingers run over her stomach towards her breasts.

“If we had a baby,” she said, “the poor kid wouldn't stand a chance in kindergarten with the name Kirkpatrick.”

“Hey, I learned to spell my last name,” Chris told her, knowing she was teasing him instead of talking to him. “It's a yes or no question, Weston.”

Her green eyes met his brown ones. “How do you know I'm the right person to have a baby with? I mean, what about other things? Like getting married. Or a joint checking account.”

She watched him pull her around to face him. She swallowed hard when he kissed her neck again.

“I thought you didn't want to marry me. You didn't even want to date me. Couldn't stand me,” he whispered. “I told you to put your name on my checking account months ago,” he added, nipping at her collarbone. “I just know you are. I watched you take Liam from me to change his diaper and his clothes. How you are with him...you'd be that way with ours.”

Her mind had wandered at that point; stomach swollen with his baby. A tiny person that was a part of both of them. It made her throat constrict and tears prick her eyes that he'd want that with her. When Melissa couldn't answer and just buried her face into Chris's chest, he just held her and rubbed her back.

“We'll just see what happens, Weston. It's just an idea...”

They hadn't actively tried, and now Melissa sat in the parking lot of her house wondering if fate was that cruel. Numb, she got out of the truck and made her way into the door.

She was relieved to find Derek passed out in his chair. He reeked of alcohol, but that was nothing unusual. The whole living room smelled that way from the containers littering the flat surfaces. The mess and disgusting living arrangements were barely tolerable to her, but this was no place for a child. It was no place for her, but she'd accepted it. With the abuse, she wasn't about to let him touch a baby.

Leaving the living room, she went to the bathroom and stripped down, avoiding looking at herself in the mirror. The hair color that was a brighter brown color was now turning brassy and her dark blonde was showing. Melissa caught a glance at her reflection and sighed at the discoloration of her skin in places. The beatings were less frequent, but they were no less worse.

Turning the water on, she let it get hot before stepping in. The water helped wash the tears down the drain as she stood in the shower and cried.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

September 16, 2014

Melissa studied the contents of her grocery cart and sighed. A gallon of milk, a loaf of bread, and some sandwich meat; a bag of chips and a small package of ground beef. It wasn't nearly enough to feed a household of two, but it would have to do. The rest of her money had gone to bills and alcohol.

She read headlines of tabloids as she waited in line, rolling her eyes at some of them. The store wasn't busy, since it was later in the morning.

“It'll be $25.28,” the girl checking her out said.

A momentary look of panic came to her. She had $18 in her pocket. The chips and the milk could wait, she hoped.

“I can't get it all,” she told her, holding back tears. It wasn't the first time she'd ever had to put things back. It had become common.

“I'll get it. And these groceries, too.”

Melissa spun quickly, her mouth hanging open at the voice she knew so well.

“Daddy.”

She threw herself into his arms, not caring that they were in a grocery store and she was crying in front of perfect strangers.

Paul Weston held his daughter, hugging her close. He couldn't be sure it was her at first, watching her for a few moments before deciding that the brunette was Melissa.

It was the first time he'd seen her in four years. They had decided it was for the best, but it still hurt when her birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas and other holidays came and went without her there.

“Let me pay for this and we can go outside,” he said.

Melissa let him go, looking around at the other customers there to make sure no one was watching too much. Even though Derek was at home, too drunk to drive, she was still afraid he would know about this. It didn't seem to matter whether he was around or not anymore, it still felt like he had eyes all over the place watching her.

She watched the boy load up her cart with the groceries and wondered what her mom would think about him coming home with no groceries.

“Mom's not going to like you coming home with nothing,” she told him simply. She watched him pay and get money back, and when he handed her a bill, she shook her head. “Dad...”

He shoved the hundred dollar bill in her hand. “Hide it. Save it,” he told her as they walked a few feet in front of the boy pushing the cart to her truck.

Paul wasn't stupid, he saw how scared she was, the fading bruises on her face that she was trying to hide with makeup. He wanted to kill the man who did this to his baby. What stopped him was the fact that Derek wasn't above using guns or knives if he felt threatened.

The groceries were put in the trunk and Melissa stood there with her arms crossed around her middle.

“Thanks for the groceries,” she told him. “And the money.”

“You had some friends from New York come and see me and your mom a few months ago. Looking for you. Mentioned a boyfriend?”

He raised an eyebrow at her and watched her wipe tears and nod. He put his hands in his pockets and waiting for an explanation.

“Yeah...Chris. You...you would've loved him. I didn't deserve him.”

“Well you sure as hell don't deserve this,” he told her, shaking his head a little. “Is it as bad as before?”

Melissa nodded. “Worse.”

“Melissa,” he whispered. “You have to find a way to get out of here.”

The look that washed over her father's face made tears sting Melissa's eyes.

“I don't think I know how, Daddy.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Who are you?”

Eric felt a stabbing, piercing pain through his eyes and on a reflex, he shut them tightly before rubbing them with his thumb and index finger. He was going on day two of fitful, tossing-and-turning sleep, and he could feel his body starting to crash on itself.

He opened his eyes wide, hoping they would adjust and give him a few more minutes, and stared at the picture in his hand.

There she was. Melissa Weston. He knew the name was familiar, but all he had to go on when he had left the elder Weston's house was a hunch and a picture of a battered and bloodied woman. So the first thing he had done when he returned to the precinct was do an internet search.

Most of the time, when using the internet as a tool in an investigation on a victim or suspect, it was hit or miss. You could find a lot of records on people, but you could never be sure you would get anything on the exact person you were looking for.

But he had hit pay dirt on Melissa the moment he clicked on the first article. There she was, pictured at a major, televised awards show just last year.

She was a celebrity.

Well, a celebrity of sorts. Dating a celebrity, she was no blue-collar person anymore. He got hits from TMZ, People, and MTV's website, plus many more. The articles that followed weren't about her, but she was mentioned in them as a girlfriend of Chris Kirkpatrick, of the famous boy band NSYNC.

Now only one question haunted him – how could the girlfriend of a major star like Chris Kirkpatrick go missing and no one notice it?

No one notice it. No one report it. No one even seemed to question it. Searching through police and FBI databases from across the country found him the knowledge that a Missing Persons report had never been filed.

How did that happen?

He did find through that search that a detective from the NYPD by the name of Joe Abrams had filed in one of his reports that evidence was examined because of “suspicious circumstances” surrounding her disappearance from town, but no foul play was suspected in the end. He had immediately gotten on the phone to the NYPD.

“Miss Weston is not a Missing Persons,” Joe had told Eric once he inquired about it. “The evidence that was found doesn't point to foul play.”

“With all due respect, detective,” Eric had said, “I think it does.”

“Because of what evidence?”

“The word of her parents,” Eric had said. “I've spoken to the Westons personally and from what I gather, the circumstances under which she disappeared from the state of New York are unusual and highly out-of-character for their daughter.”

“Is that the only evidence you have?” Abrams had asked. “Hearsay from grieving parents who haven't seen their estranged daughter for several years?”

“Hearsay that is backed up by a photo of her bloodied face at the hands of her former boyfriend,” Eric responded. “The words of grieving parents may not say much, but pictures speak a thousand words – and in my experience, photos of abused women tend to say even more than that.”

Abrams had sighed, seemingly in concession.

“For what it's worth,” he had said, “I agree with you. I have known Addy and Lance for a while now. I am on Addy's side; I held the note she wrote in my hand and I knew there was something off about it.”

He had paused to sigh again.

“Unfortunately, detective, I am at the mercy of the justice system,” he continued. “And in the eyes of the justice system, this case boils down to nothing more than a woman who got tired of her boyfriend and decided to pack up her stuff and leave.”

But of course, Eric didn't buy that for one moment.

“Give it up, detective,” had been Abrams' parting words. “Hang it up as another case of battered woman syndrome; another one that for whatever reason, decided to go back and bear the brunt.”

That was where the case ended. Like Joe Abrams, Eric's hands were tied; without concrete evidence of foul play, an official Missing Persons report couldn't be filed. A thirty-something woman from an abusive relationship could – and likely would – escape from any city, any relationship she wanted to for any strange or sudden reason she wanted to. She wasn't underaged, and she had left a clear note outlining why she was disappearing.

She just couldn't do it anymore.

“Do what?” Eric asked himself, looking at the photo of her he held. “What couldn't you do anymore? Why did you have to leave?”

He looked at her; smiling, glowing rather, in a beautiful evening gown, on the arm of a happy (and likely rich) man.

“Why would you leave a fairy tale and willingly step back into a horror movie?”

He stared at the picture a few moments. It was as if sleep deprivation had taken over and led to delirium. He wanted the girl in the picture to come to life and speak to him, talk to him, just give him one good reason to give up on her.

But as always, it wasn't in his nature to give up.

He sniffed in a breath of air through his nose hard, blinking his eyes a few times and running his hand over his face. He scratched at the scruff that had grown in. He needed to get a grip. He needed to shower, shave, and get some sleep before he completely lost himself.

He placed the photo back on the table and stood up from his chair, grabbing his coffee mug. He walked over to the kitchen sink and placed it in with the rest of the dirty dishes as he looked out his kitchen window.

It only took a second to hit him.

He rushed back to the table and snatched the photo up quickly, racing back to the window as he heard her car door shut. She turned and went to the trunk of the car, and he watched her carefully as she removed several grocery sacks from the car, piling them into her arms. He couldn't get a long look at her until she walked up the driveway to the door. Brown hair, a more ragged and tired appearance, and of course the obvious downgrade from evening gown to greasy diner uniform – to anyone else, there would be no similarities. But this was Eric Rowe, and he saw things that no other detective bothered to see.

He had been living right next to her all along.

Chapter 24 – Love In A Club...Again

Chris's Own Personal Hell, somewhere in Alabama – September 16, 2014

“Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle...”

AJ groaned loudly and grasped her head in both hands.

“This has to be the worst song ever!” she yelled over the loud music.

“I guarantee there are worse songs than this one out there,” Justin said.

“One Direction and Justin Bieber songs not withstanding, this one takes the award,” AJ said, turning to look at him. “Bash me over the head with a wine bottle, because my ears are bleeding.”

“They wouldn't be if Stephanie would shut her trap!” Justin yelled.

Justin and AJ broke into giggles, leaning against each other as they dodged dirty looks and the pretzel sticks Stephanie threw at them from across the table.

“Sorry my singing isn't up to your giant standards, Mr. Vanguard Award,” she said. “You know what? You can go 'Cry Me A River'.”

“Stephanie's creativity at its finest,” Justin said. He lifted a finger in the air, waving it to the bartender. “Another round of shots!”

“Because that's just what we need,” JC said. “To get this one even drunker than she already is.”

He glanced over at his new wife, who was sipping hard liquor out of a straw and shoulder-dancing in her seat.

“I wouldn't be the only drunk one here if Addy had come!” she yelled.

“And if she weren't, you know, pregnant too,” Chris said, not yelling as loudly as the others.

“Addy and Lance wanted to come,” AJ yelled to Chris over the loud music, “but she was too tired. She just wanted to sleep.”

“This isn't really Addy's scene anyway, is it?” Chris yelled back. He didn't remember clubs being this loud back in his day – and he immediately groaned at the thought that he was at an age to even think about “back in his day”.

“Addy still likes to party,” Stephanie yelled, her body swaying to the music as she spoke. “I'm not letting her become an old lady yet!”

JC laughed. “She cares,” he yelled, “but in an underhanded way.”

“They couldn't find a babysitter anyway,” Justin yelled. “Now that Lance's mom is gone, the only person left was Joey, and he was the last person Addy trusted.”

“But Joey has kids of his own,” Chris yelled.

“In case you hadn't noticed,” Justin yelled back, “Kelly is almost always around when Joey has the girls. The last time Joey babysat Liam by himself, he let him eat cookie dough and stay up until three in the morning. Liam puked for a whole day. After that, Joey is totally banned from babysitting!”

Chris took another long drink of scotch out of his glass. He wished Addy had come, because then at least he would have a buffer in her, if not in Lance as well. Coming to a club at their overnight stop in Alabama was the last thing he wanted to do. Stephanie had forcefully suggested it, as usual not willing to consider that he was no longer in a party mood and would probably never recover his partying days again. Justin and AJ dragged him along, a little more sympathetic toward his mood but nevertheless wanting to appease Stephanie.

The tour still had almost two months to go before it finally finished, and he had only a month to go before Addy and Lance were throwing him a huge 43rd birthday bash during a three-day rest in Kansas City. Both were milestones that he never thought would pass without Mel being around. It was looking like they would both come and go without her, and he was past his own breaking point.

The shots Justin had ordered came in the middle of an intense conversation between the other four, and Justin slid a tiny shot glass towards each person. As he raised his shot glass to make another of the mini “toasts” that he made each time they took a shot, Chris grabbed his glass and lifted it to his lips, downing it before Justin had the chance to get an entire sentence out.

“Uh...okay then,” Justin stuttered, seeing Chris's haste. “To...uh...to nights out with great friends and drunken dancing!”

AJ and JC were about to lift their glasses to their lips before shooting him a raised eyebrow each, thinking it an odd toast. Stephanie was the first to down her shot, too drunk to care about any of the toasts he made. Justin quickly downed his, and AJ and JC followed, still confused.

“Alright,” Justin said, clapping his hands together as he watched their mouths pucker at the bitter taste of the pure alcohol. “Speaking of drunken dancing, how about the three of you go do some of that?”

“But...why?” AJ asked.

“Aj, you're too tense,” Justin said hastily, already pushing her out of the booth. “You need to let Steph show you how to party and have a good time.”

“Justin, I'm twenty-five, I think I know how to drink,” she insisted.

“Well you can always use more practice,” he said. “Jace, Steph, go, now. Teach AJ how to...I don't know, do the 'Bye Bye Bye' dance.”

“Justin!”

Stephanie and JC drug off a protesting AJ, and Justin immediately scooted towards Chris.

“Alright, what's up?” he asked, crossing his arms on the table and taking a drink.

“What makes you think something's up?” Chris asked.

“Please, even Miss Drunk and Disorderly takes a breath before she does a shot,” Justin said. “You don't bat an eyelash; you barely let it touch your tongue before the alcohol goes into your bloodstream. Something's up.”

“What the hell do you think is up?” Chris asked defensively.

“And do you think the alcohol is going to take that away?” Justin asked, eyebrows raised.

Chris paused, unable to disagree.

“I don't think you should just suck it up and try to have fun 'cause God knows, ain't nothing in the world that can make you do that,” Justin said. “Your heart has been ripped out of your chest. But your friends are here for you. We can't take it away, but we can be here for you to fill the hole.”

“By taking me to a club?” Chris scoffed. “That's supposed to fill the hole?”

“Hey, I know it ain't no comparison,” Justin said, “but I know it hurts right now. Courtney's gone. And I get to see her in a couple of weeks, and permanently in a couple of months...but that's two damn long months.”

Chris could have snipped at Justin; he was angry enough to, that Justin would even try to compare their individual pain. Justin's pain at missing his girlfriend was nothing compared to the way he missed Mel; Courtney hadn't run away to another man in another state and refused to come back. But, maybe it was the alcohol finally getting to him, he chose not to.

“Do you love her?” he asked his much-younger bandmate. “Courtney?”

Justin grinned and looked down at his glass; Chris didn't even need a response.

“Yeah, I guess...maybe,” Justin said. “I don't know. Right now, we're just having fun.”

“Having fun leads to dangerous things,” Chris said.

“Like...that.”

Chris looked at his friend after he heard his distracted, faraway tone. His eyes went wide as he saw who was walking up to the table towards them.

“Hey strangers,” Mila said with a smile.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Melissa's Own Personal Hell, Little Rock, Arkansas – September 16, 2014

“Hey bartender, pour 'em hot tonight...'Til the party and the music and the truth collide...Bring it 'til his memory fades away...Hey bartender...”

Eric could hear the music before he even opened the rickety door to the bar. The only thing he could think was at least it was upbeat music, more contemporary pop, rather than deep, drawling country music that you could only imagine coming from a cowboy bar in Arkansas.

The old door closed with a bang behind him and he only had to glance around the whole bar once before he saw her – sitting at the bar, nursing a tall glass of an amber-colored beer.

He maneuvered his way through the throngs of drunkards to approach her slowly but loudly, so she wouldn't be startled.

“You come here often?” he asked as he leaned against the bar next to her.

Unstartled, she looked over at him.

“Not as often as I should,” Melissa said.

At the relief of finally finding out she wasn't pregnant after all, Melissa immediately headed to the bar. She didn't much have a taste for beer, but she felt a celebration was in order and it required a little alcohol – or a lot. This bar was the obvious choice; it was the farthest away from her home, the farthest away from Derek's regular haunts, and being all the way on the other side of the city, she didn't figure there would be a lot of people who knew or liked Derek enough to give her away if they saw her.

“Yeah, that's usually how it works, Weston,” Eric said.

He saw her stop in her tracks and look at him, her eyes wide.

“That is your name, Weston?” he asked.

“How do you know?” she whispered.

“You can only hide so long,” he said. “When you're a missing person for six months, you have to expect to be found at some point.”

He could see her comfort fade, her knuckles turning white from grasping her beer so hard.

“I'm not here to arrest you or take you in,” he said softly. “You're not in trouble.”

“Oh yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I am.”

“I'm not going to tell him, if that's what you're worried about,” he said. “In fact, I'm staying as far away from him as possible, because I'm on your side.”

They went silent as the bartender approached. Eric ordered a beer, waiting until the bartender had delivered it to him and walked away before he spoke again.

“How long has he been abusing you?” he asked.

He heard her sigh.

“I shouldn't be talking to you,” she said. “Do you even realize what would happen if he knew we were living next door to a cop, much less talking to one?”

“That why all the blood drained to your feet the minute you heard I was a detective? I thought that was odd.”

“So what, you looked me up?” she asked defensively. “Ever heard of invasion of privacy? Isn't that some Homeland Security violation, or something?”

He chuckled.

“Not for cops, sweetheart. What are you getting so defensive about? I'm on your side.”

“And you think I can trust you?” she asked.

He sighed, the smile dropping from his face, and finally took the seat next to her.

“Mel, I can get you out,” he said. “That's what I do. That's what I've been doing for twenty years. But first, you have to give me a chance.”

“I can't,” she said with a slight head shake. “I just...I can't leave. There is no getting out for me.”

He turned away from her. He sat and sipped his beer, savoring the frosty feeling that went down his throat after a long, rough day. He watched her twirl her index finger over the rim of her glass, staring into it like a crystal ball.

“Do you remember about four months ago,” he said. “All over the news, big, high-profile case of a woman named Sadie Gibbons?”

“Of course I do,” she responded.

“Found her body floating in the river,” he said. “Decomposed, beaten, strangled, tortured. Pretty blonde white woman. Of course, the press was all over it for that fact alone.”

“You're not going to scare me,” she said.

“I'm not tellin' ya to scare you,” he said. “She was all over the news. You heard they never found her killer?”

“Yeah.”

“That's because her name wasn't Sadie Gibbons.”

He looked over as she turned to look at him.

“Jane Doe,” he said. “Couldn't identify her.”

“So who is Sadie Gibbons?” she asked.

“Sadie Gibbons doesn't exist,” he said. “Least not anymore. But Charlene Bennington does – and is living a rather quiet, hidden life somewhere in Seattle right now.”

“I'm confused,” she said. “What exactly is your point, detective?”

“Sadie Gibbons had been abused by her husband for fifteen years,” he said. “She had been to the hospital over two dozen times because of him – broken ribs, broken nose, he even tried to cut off her ear once. Cut off her ear.”

She looked down.

“He had been in and out of jail so many times during that fifteen years that printing out his rap sheet could kill a small rainforest. Problem is, the justice system...well, the justice system is the entire problem. It's easier to throw a person with six unpaid parking tickets in jail for a year than it is to put away an abuser. You need undeniable proof just to arrest them; to convict them and throw them in jail, you have to prove that the female isn't just a scorned lover throwing around accusations. Frankly, Mel, that's damn near impossible because everyone has skeletons in their closets.”

She nodded.

“If you get lucky and they can be convicted, do you know how long they spend in jail?” he asked. “A year or two, tops. If they're really bad, you can get ten years but you gotta get the right jury and the right judge. I mean, all the damn stars in the universe have to align in order to throw a guy in prison for beating a woman.”

He looked over at her; he could tell she was listening, that he was getting through to her, even if she didn't speak.

“Sadie Gibbons is dead but there's no body,” he said. “You just have to throw an identity on an unidentified body and be done with it. Sadie Gibbons is safe now. Her husband will never find her. He thinks she's six feet underground, and he's Scott-free.”

“That's a romantic little story detective,” she said. “But I still don't understand why you're telling me.”

“I, along with a coroner, a government employee, and about three other detectives, broke about ten different laws,” he said. “I allowed an unidentified body of a woman to be misidentified and buried, and her family will never know that she's dead. Do you know how long I would go to jail? I would never see the light of day again. I'd leave in a pine box. I just told you something that could not only cost me my job, but my entire life.”

She looked at him, finally making full eye contact.

“You have something on me much worse than I have on you,” he said. “So unless I have a death wish, I have absolutely no motive to make it known to your boyfriend that you just ratted him out to a cop. You can trust me now.”

A few moments passed in silence. He knew his words had reached her, because he visibly saw her relax, and he could feel less of a nervous vibe coming from her.

Finally she took another drink out of her glass, and after setting it down on the bar in front of her, turned to look at him.

“What do you want to know?” she asked.

Chapter 25 – Mila Out

Just outside Ohio – Friday, October 3, 2014

Lance was jostled from his relaxing conversation with Justin in the lounge area of the bus when he felt a hand grab a thick chunk of his hair, pulling upward.

“You're coming with me,” Adeline said.

He winced as she pulled hard enough to lift him up and out of the seat, as Justin only watched.

“Yow, okay coming...Justin, I'll be...OW!...I'll be back.”

Justin, seemingly unaffected, watched as Adeline pulled Lance out of the lounge and to the front area of the bus, closing the door behind them.

Lance rubbed his sore scalp as he followed his wife to the kitchenette until she stopped and turned to him, crossing her arms across her chest.

“You needed something, sweetheart?” he said sweetly, trying to cover up his sarcasm.

“Get rid of her,” she simply said.

“Done and done,” he said, “except I'm going to need a few more details. You know, like, a name.”

“I'm serious,” she said. “Get rid of her or I will. I will kill her.”

“Usually when you threaten homicide, I go to Stephanie first,” he said. “But you and Steph have been thick as thieves lately, so I don't know who you're talking about.”

“Mila.”

All at once, he was not at all surprised.

“I will kill her. I will stab her, claw out her eyes with a back scratcher, dump her body on the side of the road somewhere in backwoods Ohio, and you will never see her pretty little face again, Lance,” she said.

“Well, baby, it sounds like you have a solid plan, so why do you need me?” he asked.

She put her hand to her rounded stomach, already getting in her way at five months.

“Do you want your daughter born in a jail?” she asked.

He sighed. The feud between Adeline, Stephanie, and Mila had been going on for the past two weeks at least, ever since Mila had come on tour with them. No one knew exactly why she was there, only that she was there because Chris wanted her there, but nobody was stupid enough to question why as long as Chris was getting by and the show was going on.

“Okay, what do you want me to do?” he asked. “Seriously. Tell me what to do about it.”

“Get rid of her,” she said. “Get her off this bus.”

“There's no room on the other bus,” he said. “Besides, Stephanie is on the other bus and as much as you make threats, she really will kill Mila.”

“Great, move her to the other bus then,” Adeline said.

“Adeline,” he said, chastising. “I'm sorry you don't get along with Mila. There's only two months left on the tour, and there's a distinct possibility that Mila won't even last another two days. Can't you manage?”

“There's a distinct possibility that in those two days, something will happen to you, and it will be much worse than the guys screwing with your shampoo and dyeing your hair blue.”

“I love you too, honey!” he called out as she stormed away angrily. He sighed as she went into their small bedroom area, slamming the door behind her.

“Hello, hormones.”

Lance turned, not noticing that Justin had walked into the kitchenette.

“She scares me,” Lance said. “Don't get me wrong, I love her, but she's scaring the crap out of me. Somebody will leave this tour in a body bag, and J – I'm not sure at this point whether it will be Mila or me.”

“She has a point, though,” Justin said, grabbing a soda out of the fridge. “Man, I did Friends With Benefits with that girl and she was not like that. She was sweet and funny. I don't know who this she-devil that replaced Mila is.”

“I know,” Lance said, frustrated. “But Chris is never going to go for throwing her out.”

The two of them slid into the kitchen table together, Justin bringing Lance a soda.

“Think of how he would feel,” Lance continued. “First the love of his life disappears in the middle of the night and never comes back, then we throw the only girl he's taken an interest in since Melissa off the tour bus because we don't like her. Meanwhile, all four of us have our wives or girlfriends and families on tour with us either all the time or part of the time.”

Justin nodded. “He's surrounded by happy couples twenty-four-seven and when he finds someone who makes him half as happy, we tell him he can't have it and tell her to hit the road.”

“Yeah,” Lance said. “Exactly.”

“You don't think he's dating her, do you?” Justin asked, his nose scrunching in disapproval.

“God, I hope not,” Lance responded.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Adeline sighed after slamming the door, not even caring that Liam was asleep in the pop-up crib in the room and she could wake him. She waited a moment with bated breath, hoping not to hear a small body stir or start crying, and after several seconds of not hearing things, she released it and walked over to the bed, plopping onto it.

She was instantly regretting blowing up on Lance; after all, she was hormonal and upset and it wasn't his fault. But she couldn't help it; it was Mila's fault. Damn Mila. She had put up with this for the past two weeks, and it wasn't getting any better. If none of them did anything, it wouldn't get better.

She reached over to the small table by her side and grabbed the iPhone from the top of a stack of books she was currently reading. Her current wallpaper, the boys' Rolling Stones “Glitter Factory” photo from so many years ago, popped up quickly when she swiped her finger across the screen.

She dialed the number she knew by heart now and put the phone up to her ear, and it only rang a couple of times before it picked up.

“Whatever he did,” Stephanie answered, “stuff him at the bottom of the pile of his laundry and leave him there. I'll take care of it in the morning.”

“Why do you assume it's a 'he'?” Adeline asked.

“Christ,” Stephanie said. “What'd she do now?”

Adeline groaned. “What hasn't she done? She's filthy to live with. She leaves half-empty bottles of sparkling water all over the place and never picks them up or throws them away. Speaking of sparkling water, that's all she will drink. No soda, she's watching her figure. No coffee, the caffeine makes her jittery. No tap water – 'it has germs'.”

“She's a germ.”

“She's more than a germ, she's a virus,” Addy said, standing up to pace around the room. “She's physically painful, unpleasant to live with, she's killing me, and I can't get rid of her no matter what I do.”

“I'm surprised she hasn't made you her live-in maid by now,” Stephanie said.

“Oh, but she has,” Adeline responded. “She has absolutely no concept of what living life on a tour bus is like. This morning she wanted me to make her a frittata. She was absolutely dumbfounded when I told her that a moving tour bus has no eggs, no cooking pans, and most of all, no stove to cook on.”

“Her first clue wasn't the amount of take-out wrappers and drink cups laying around?”

“She's too busy bitching to notice things like that. I keep hoping that because she's watching her calorie intake, she'll refuse to eat McDonald's and Taco Bell every morning, noon, and night and eventually, she'll starve herself to death. Unfortunately, it's taking way too long.”

“Should we talk to Chris?”

Adeline sighed.

“No,” she said. As much as she hated Mila, she knew Lance was right; telling Chris that Mila was unanimously voted off their little 'island' would break his heart all over again. “We can't kick her off the tour; it'd hurt Chris too much. I'm not adverse to sprinkling a little insulation underneath her bed sheets, though, and watching her scratch herself to insanity.”

“She wouldn't have far to scratch,” Stephanie said. “Forget Chris; what about you? You know what the doctor said, sweetie – even though your pregnancy with Liam was okay, you're still a high-risk category because of your hypertension. You have to relax and keep your stress levels down.”

Adeline stood by the small window and peeked out to the road and scenery whipping by them at sixty-five miles per hour. As if she needed to be reminded; she was allowed to go on tour with the boys still with careful monitoring, but she wasn't allowed the extra stress of continuing as their psuedo tour manager and Johnny's assistant. She had to resign, and fortunately Stephanie was available to take over.

“Don't worry about me,” she said. “Worry about Mila's safety if she continues to bunk on this bus.”

“Well I'd do that, but frankly honey, I don't care what happens to her as long as you clean up after yourself.”

“We have to get her out of here somehow without hurting Chris,” Addy said. “But how do we do that?”

“We run her out.”

Addy could almost hear the smile across Stephanie's face, even though they were in completely separate buses.

“Run her out?” she asked. “How do you suggest we do that when she's doing her best to run us out?”

“Take a page from her book,” Stephanie said. “Do anything we can to piss her off. No holds barred, all-out bitchiness.”

“No, that won't work, she outranks us by leaps and bounds,” Addy said, still staring out the window. “What we need is to get Chris on our side, to want her out as much as we--”

Addy stopped, a tiny smile coming to her face. She had no idea where the idea came from, but it was the perfect plan.

“We get Mel.”

“Excuse me?” Stephanie said. “I don't think I heard you right.”

“Mel,” Addy said. “We bring Mel back here. Mel in, Mila out.”

“Oh, okay, now I understand,” Stephanie said sarcastically. “My plan was too difficult. This one's much easier. We just find a needle in a haystack, a needle that doesn't want to be found, and drag the needle back to the tour. Perfect plan, Ad.”

Addy smiled. “Just listen, I've got an idea...”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the quiet of the night, in the silence of the hotel room in Cincinnati, Lance laid against his bed working on his laptop. The only sounds he could hear were the rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the keys, the quiet hum of the air conditioner, and the almost-silent but yet present sound of traffic down in the streets below.

He paused a moment from typing to shut his eyes as the backlit screen started to make his eyes hurt, taking off the reading glasses he used when his eyes were especially tired and rubbing them with his fingers. He closed the temple pieces in on themselves, setting them on the table by his side of the bed.

“Liquid energy.”

He looked up to see Adeline holding two cups of coffee, one toward him.

“Oh, I didn't even hear you come in,” he said softly. It had taken far too long to get Liam down for bed, and he didn't want to do it all over again.

“You usually don't when you're working this hard,” she said.

She came to sit down in bed next to him, handing him the disposable coffee cup.

“Tired?” she asked.

“Exhausted,” he responded. “I forgot what this life is like. The last few months of a tour is insanity – you're tired, you're sore, you're busy every day in rehearsals and sound checks and performances and traveling, but your work never ends because in a few weeks you have a life to go back to, and you have to have work lined up.”

“I forgot,” she said. “You pretty much never take a break. Even when it looks like you aren't working, you're working.”

“I now understand where Chris is coming from,” he said. “I'm too old for this shit.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder, watching him as he typed.

“I have something to ask you,” she finally said. “Actually, an...idea to run by you.”

He stopped typing again, looking at her with a side eye. “For some reason, I don't like the sound of that.”

“I need a thousand dollars.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Not that I'm adverse to giving you money,” he said, “but what the hell for?”

“I have a plan to get Mel back,” she said. “All this time we've been waiting for her to come to us, but she hasn't – because she can't. She's stuck with an abusive man, working a job as a waitress. He probably doesn't give her money, in fact he probably makes sure she doesn't have access to any of the money so he knows she can't go anywhere.”

“So you want to send her money?”

“Too much risk of him finding out and making sure she doesn't get it,” she said. “Someone will have to go to her.”

“And that someone would be...”

“Me,” she said.

“Mmm-hmm,” he said, nodding his head. “And you propose to do this...how, Addy? Honey, I know your heart is in the right place, but you've already driven all the way to Arkansas once before to try to find her, and you never succeeded. That was several months ago. You're pregnant now. You can't drive over 500 miles out of your way to go on another wild goose chase.”

“That's why Stephanie will drive,” she said. “She can take a couple of days off from the tour without everything going haywire. This time, it will be an in-and-out thing, we'll just drive there, find her, give her the money, and leave. It'll be two, three days max.”

He sighed, tired and worn. He rubbed his hand over his tired eyes again, then against his neck.

“It's two in the morning, and you're going to outwit me anyway, aren't you?” he asked.

She chuckled.

“Addy, your heart is too good...” He reached for his wallet, extending it to her. “...and unfortunately, I love you for it.”

She smiled as she took the wallet from his hand.

“I don't keep that kind of cash on me,” he said. “You'll have to go to the ATM in the morning.”

“We're renting a car and leaving tomorrow,” she said. “And we're taking Liam along with us, so you won't have to worry about him.”

“Yeah, it's not him I'm all that worried about,” Lance said under his breath.

Chapter 26 – A Thousand Reasons

Little Rock – Two days later – October 5, 2014

1st parcel is in the trunk. Wait a cpl days and pk a few s and j.

Melissa looked at Eric's coded message across her cell phone screen and felt a pressing fear in the pit of her stomach.

You're sure this is going to work? she typed out on her keyboard.

To an outsider, their crazy “text code” would be difficult, if not impossible, to completely decode. They didn't have a set coding system, but they were mostly of one mind that she could figure everything out easily. 'Parcel' was suitcase or baggage. 'S' and 'J' stood for shirts and jeans. 'Pk' was short for 'pack' – all so it would be harder for Derek to figure out.

Gradually, over the next few days, she would pack up only a few of her things – just enough to add up over time, but not enough that it would be obvious to Derek that her clothes were going missing – and all the luggage and baggage she could gather up would be hidden in several places...Eric's trunk, his garage, a few things in his office at the precinct. When she was ready, and when she had an opportunity, it would be there waiting for her, and so would Eric. He would load her and her things into his car and drive her straight to the airport. Every day, she was saving five or ten dollars out of her tips – all she could manage without Derek noticing that she wasn't getting as many – and Eric was setting it aside for a plane ticket.

At the rate she was going, it would take her weeks to save up enough. But that was okay with her because the more she thought about it, the more she was feeling like it would take weeks to get up the guts to go through with this.

Eric called the escape plan “flawless” - but she knew that nothing about escaping Derek would be flawless. He had too much confidence. She wondered if she put too much confidence in him as well. She deleted all of Eric's text messages before Derek got a chance to see her cell phone every day. Even if he went to the cell phone company and had them print up records of all her text messages, they had the code to fall back on. Besides, these days, he was always too drunk to form coherent sentences, much less make an appearance at the cell phone company to check up on her text messages.

But there was always a chance that he, or someone who knew him, would figure it out before she could follow through.

It'll work, came the reply. U gotta trust me.

Even if it was Eric, it was becoming harder and harder to trust that the plan was flawless.

“Mel, you have a customer. Table five.”

Melissa looked up from her phone but Gina had already passed her. She sighed and put her phone in the pocket of her apron, and walked through the swinging door to enter the lobby.

When she saw the person at her table, she froze in her place. Adeline was sitting in the seat, young Liam standing up in his seat playing with his mother. Right in the same booth, seated across from her, was Stephanie.

Gina came through the swinging door holding two plates full of food and, not expecting a frozen body right in front of her, slammed into Melissa's back and almost spilled food all over.

“Mel!” she said in surprise, then chuckled once she regained control over the plates. “Mel, what's wrong?”

“I...I can't wait on them,” she responded. All she could think of was that he could be watching outside or come in the diner at any minute during their conversation. If Addy gave any indication that she knew Melissa, she didn't want to think of what things could cross his mind to do to her...and Liam. “I'll trade you tables – you take her and I'll take one of yours.”

Gina laughed. “What is wrong with you lately? Didn't one of them used to be like, your best friend? It's not like she bites. Or maybe she does – maybe Lance likes that sort of thing.”

Gina giggled and Mel resisted the urge to tell her that she wasn't even close to being right.

“Besides,” Gina continued, “she asked for you personally.”

Gina walked away with both plates and Mel sighed. She had no other choice but to talk to Addy. If she didn't go up to her, if she refused to serve her, she could get fired – and then she couldn't imagine what Derek would do to her. She didn't want to risk the chance of putting her friend and little Liam in danger. It was a no-win situation.

She steeled herself to start walking to the table, grabbing her order book out of the other side of her apron.

“What can I get for you today?” she asked as she walked up to the table.

As Addy turned to her and smiled, she tried to remain looking at the paper and pen in her hands.

“You can't come here, Addy,” she whispered, fearful that he could have come in and she missed him. “You shouldn't be in here.”

Addy remained smiling.

“I believe the policy is 'no shirt, no shoes, no service',” Stephanie said lightly. “I have shoes, I have a shirt on--”

“Thank goodness,” Addy responded.

“I see no reason you should refuse us service.” Stephanie looked Mel straight in the eyes. “Ma'am.”

Mel looked over at Addy, and caught her winking her eye. One look in her eyes told Mel that she knew something and was playing along...for now.

“The spaghetti and meatballs looks killer,” Stephanie said, glancing at her menu quickly before folding it and handing it to Mel. “I'll take that, with a Dr. Pepper...oh, and, we're here to help you.”

Melissa was about to ask Stephanie to repeat herself when Addy interrupted.

“I'll start out with a glass of that iced tea,” she said, looking at her menu briefly. She lowered her voice. “You have to get out.” Then she looked up and her voice raised again. “That's freshly made, right?”

“What?” Mel couldn't help her voice being strained and hoarse when she spoke.

“The tea,” Addy said. “It's freshly made?”

“Oh,” Mel stuttered. “Yeah. Every morning and afternoon.”

“Good, I'll take that,” Addy said. Her eyes ran back over her menu. “The chicken parmigiana sounds delicious.” She paused. “We know what he does to you, Mel,” she whispered.

Melissa wrote down the order with shaky hands.

“Anything for the little one?” she asked, her eyes finally looking at Adeline.

“Juice and a small order of macaroni and cheese,” she said as she put an arm around him and he leaned into her. “He probably won't eat it anyway. He snacked too much in the car on the way here.”

Mel wrote it down. “Anything else?”

“We'll be wanting dessert after, as well,” Stephanie said. “We expect top-notch service, and you'll be rewarded with a handsome tip.”

Mel didn't know Stephanie that well, but she knew her well enough to know that she was being a jerk intentionally – not because she didn't like Mel, but to act like any other rude customer. Even so, her snide tone hurt. She clicked her pen on the notepad and shoved both of them back in her apron.

“Your food will be a few minutes, and I'll be back with your drinks shortly – ma'am,” she bit.

She gave the cook the order and made the drinks, but when she took them back to the table they were thankfully too busy entertaining Liam to say anything more. She busied herself wiping down a few empty tables and helping Gina take orders to her tables while she was waiting for the food to finish.

So far, Derek hadn't shown up and she hadn't seen him in the diner – but she wasn't out of the woods. She wouldn't be surprised if he was sitting out in his car in the parking lot, waiting for her to get off her shift in less than two hours, watching her every move. She didn't know if it was just paranoia that sometimes left her feeling like she had eyes on her or if it was instinct. Whatever it was, she had that feeling today, so she left the girls the drinks she had ordered and quickly walked away from the table to get back to work.

She had stopped shaking by the time the order was ready, and she took the food to the table, her nerves finally calmed a bit.

“Here you go,” she said, setting the plates down in front of them. When she leaned down to place a small plate near Liam, she whispered, “What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be with the guys?”

“Small pit stop,” Addy responded. “Steph and I needed to get away from the tour for a bit. We'll be joining them again in a couple of days.”

“Where are they now?” Mel asked.

“Michigan?” Stephanie said. “Indiana? One of those cold-ass, lake states, anyway.”

“Michigan,” Adeline responded. “Detroit. Don't worry; nowhere near here.”

“You really know?” Mel looked around cautiously, feeling only slightly braver.

“We all know. How can we not know after what you told us about him?”

Neither one of them connected eyes with each other.

“Chris is worried about you,” Adeline said. “Lance, too. Everyone is, actually.”

“I can't just leave,” Melissa whispered. “It's not that easy.”

“I know it's not,” she responded. “You have to have the courage and opportunity. They don't always come at the same time – but I hope to give you both today.”

Adeline looked up from helping Liam with his food, to look Melissa in the eyes.

“Chris loves you, Mel. He'll take care of you, you never have to worry. And if it's safety, we have five huge, scary bodyguards around the guys at almost all times.”

“The guys,” Melissa said. “Not me.”

“They'll protect whoever myself, Chris and Lance tell them to protect,” Addy said. “You have safety with us.”

“No, I don't. At least when I was on the run from him before, I had anonymity,” Melissa said. “With Chris, anonymity is impossible.”

“Difficult, yes – and that's exactly why the guys intend to have protection for you.”

“They can't protect me all the time, Addy.”

“Melissa!”

Melissa turned to look toward the counter and saw George staring her down. When she looked up, he narrowed his eyes and pointed at one of her tables where three customers sat, with no drinks or menus.

“I have to go do my job, I'm in enough hot water as it is,” Mel said. “I'll bring your dessert menu shortly.”

She walked away to grab three menus at the counter and grab the glasses of water, apologizing to George as she passed him. As she served the customers and took their orders, she thought about what Addy had said.

On one hand, if there was any safety anywhere for her, with the guys probably offered one of the safest places – with fans that constantly mobbed them, they had protection around them at almost all times. They were always moving from town to town for shows, hardly ever staying in one place for more than a week at a time, which was more than she had done when she was on the run before she settled in New York and met Addy and Lance. Being with the guys offered protection on its own. They would probably all willingly lose an arm or leg protecting her or Addy if it was necessary.

But the fact that they were celebrities, even more so now that they were reunited, put her too much in danger. Nothing in their personal lives was sacred. If Mel was with Chris or any of the rest of the guys, it would be publicly known. All Derek would have to do to find her would be to follow them on tour. He could take his opportunity at any moment.

The thing that she couldn't bear to risk wasn't what he might do to her if she ran and he caught her – it was the thought of what he could do to the group. Especially Chris.

She avoided their table except to offer refills, bring a dessert menu and take that order. She immediately grabbed the slices of pie and brought it to the table, setting it down in front of them.

“I hate to order and run without eating dessert,” Addy said, gathering up Liam, “but we have to get on the road. I guess you'll have to enjoy this pie yourself. Your tip, for excellent service.”

She held up a single hundred dollar bill in her hand to show it to Mel, whose eyes widened.

“But I believe that waitress--” She pointed at Gina in the corner, taking another table's order. “--has something else for you, that she was instructed to give you in private after we leave. You'll want to destroy the note after you read it.”

“Today, you have a thousand reasons to decide to do what is necessary to protect yourself,” Stephanie said.

Mel shuffled out of the way as Adeline and Stephanie scooted out of the booth, Addy with Liam in her arms, handing the bill to Melissa discreetly. It immediately caught Melissa's eye that her friend's stomach was swollen, yet again.

“I've given you opportunity, and hopefully after you read that note, you find some of that courage I know that you have hidden in there,” Addy said. She looked at Melissa one last time before turning her head to the toddler in her arms. “Come on Liam.”

Melissa stood in her place as she watched Adeline walk away, cooing at Liam, and heard the bell above the door ring as they all walked out. She sighed and gathered up all the plates and glasses, including the plate of pie. She couldn't eat it now, even if she was allowed to, because her stomach churned with nervous butterflies. She used the rag in her waistband to wipe down the table and booth seats for the next customer and carried the dishes back to the sink, where Gina was waiting for her.

“Are they gone?” she asked.

“Yeah, they're gone,” Mel responded.

Gina reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a plain white envelope, folded in half.

“What is it?” she asked excitedly.

She took the envelope from her and unfolded it, opening the unsealed flap. When she pulled out the thin stack of money, Gina's eyes widened.

“It must be one damn good story!” Gina said. She grabbed the money from Melissa's hand and counted each bill. “Six...seven...eight...Mel, there's nine hundred dollars here!”

“Ten,” Mel said, shocked herself, holding up the hundred dollar bill that Adeline had given her. “She gave me this too.”

“A thousand dollars,” Gina said, panting and smiling. “That's one hell of a tip!”

Mel thought back to what Addy had said about giving her opportunity, and about having a thousand reasons to do what was necessary to protect herself – it was running money. They wanted her to run.

She remembered what Adeline had said about a note, reading it and destroying it. She reached back into the envelope and pulled out a folded sheet of lined school paper.

“There's more?” Gina said, even more excited.

“I can't read it,” Mel said, handing the letter over to her. “If I read it, I'll be sick. Read it to me.”

Gina took the paper and unfolded it, clearing her throat before reading.

“April 5, 2014

Maryland has been nice. Jace's parents have been great, having us over for dinner every night since we've been here. It's been a nice break from the constant fast food and stopping at diners and convenience stores. We'll be headed out tomorrow for Richmond, for our next show, and I'll miss being around a 'family', even if it's just Jace's parents and not my own. (Sorry, Karen, I still love you!)

It was a great idea of Mel's for us to keep these tour journals. I mean, I thought it was kind of silly at first, what would I have to write about, but it's kept me busy and I've discovered there's a lot more to talk about while on tour than I thought.

Wherever she is, I hope she's writing in hers too.

I can't stand the thoughts every night that go through my head – him hitting her, pushing her around, saying horrible things to her. I've lost so much sleep, I'm sick over it. Addy lectures me. I know I should try to keep myself healthy, eating enough and getting enough sleep, but when I think of what Mel could be going through...it makes my stomach turn. When Stephanie told me what had happened to her, how her ex had beat her and raped her...I can't stand the thought of anything like that happening to Mel. If I ever find out that it did, I'll find him and kill him myself.

Even worse, she would be safe here. With me. I'd do anything to protect her, even if it risked my life in the process. I think the other guys would too. Even though they don't show it as much, I can tell they want her to come back too.

I keep the ring in the pocket of my old tour jacket. I figure it's safe there. If Justin found it, I'd catch so much hell. If Mel were here and he did that, she'd somehow convince Addy to help her stuff him into a compartment and leave him there until he cried for their mercy. Addy threatens, and now that Steph is here she and Justin annoy each other until one of them is chasing each other down the hotel hallways, but nobody acts quite the same as if Mel were here.

When Mel comes home – if she comes home – I'll do it. I'll ask her to marry me.

Oh, bedtime. Justin poking around, trying to read over my shoulder. Write again soon.

C”

Melissa felt nauseous, but resisted her urge to run immediately to the bathroom. When she finished reading the letter, Gina looked up wide-eyed.

“Whoa,” she said.

The door to the kitchen opened and an angry-looking George peeked through to look at them both.

“Are you girls going to work or is it time for book club? You'll have plenty of time to read on unemployment.”

“Sorry, George,” Gina said apologetically. “We'll get right back to work.”

George rolled his eyes and disappeared from the door, while Mel was still staring in shock.

“Gina, burn that,” she said.

“What?” Gina exclaimed. “Mel, you just found out Chris wanted to propose to you, and now you want me to burn this? Are you crazy?”

“If he sees that letter,” Melissa said forcefully, “I'm toast. Chris is in danger, too. All my friends are. Hide the money and burn the letter. Now.”

Melissa walked away quickly back to the front, leaving the slightly star-struck young girl behind, hoping she would do as she was asked and not put Melissa in further danger. She couldn't believe that they continued to do this to her, knowing what risk they put her and themselves in.

Chapter 27 – Love Is A Battlefield

Chicago, Illinois - Thursday, October 9, 2014

“This is a bad idea.”

Adeline looked away from guarding the hotel door with Lance to Justin, who was sitting in a chair directly in front of her. Dropping her foot from where she had propped it against the wall, she kicked the metal leg of his chair, making him jump at the sound.

“Shut up,” she said. “Nobody asked for your opinion.”

“I gave it anyway,” he said. “You want another opinion? This is a bad idea.”

Justin recoiled in surprise as he felt a hand hit the back of his head.

“That was the same one, moron,” Stephanie said, pacing behind him impatiently.

“JC, leash your wife,” Justin said. “She's hitting and name-calling.”

“Both of you, knock it off,” Lance finally said. “Reign in your immaturity for ten minutes while we get this done, okay?”

“You've been watching too much reality television,” Justin said. “I feel like we need a big banner that says 'Intervention' to hang in the doorway.”

“This isn't an intervention,” Adeline said. “It's a group meeting. We made that perfectly clear to Chris, which is why we told him he could not bring Mila.”

“Alright genius,” Justin said, “then why is AJ here?”

He looked over to the young member of the band, who was standing in the corner of the room away from the rest of them.

“Get bent, Timberlake,” she said.

“Hey!”

They all stopped when Lance yelled.

“God, the two-year-olds in Liam's play group act more mature than this,” he said. “This is our group. Everybody in this room is our family. Maybe not all of us do the singing or the dancing every night but everybody in this room has a place in our little band family. That includes AJ.”

“I can think of one member of our 'family' who probably won't see it that way,” Justin said, using air quotes.

“It's not up to him,” Addy said.

“Justin is a twerp,” JC said. “So as much as I hate to say it, he's right. Chris is not going to see it that way, and he's not going to like this. He's going to see all of us, with our girlfriends and wives and happy lives, ganging up on him and his new little girlfriend.”

Addy sighed. She conceded.

“Maybe he's right,” she said. “But we have no choice. Mila is making all of our lives miserable.”

For the first time since they had sat down, nobody in the room disagreed. That was the one thing they all agreed on.

“This is as much for Chris's sake as it is for ours,” Stephanie said. “If he stays with her, she's going to drag him down.”

“Really, Miss Cleo?” Justin asked, crossing his arms across his chest. “Did your crystal ball tell you that?”

“I will give you a three second head start,” Stephanie said, “before I pounce on you like a lion on a wildebeest. One, two--”

Justin had jumped up out of his chair and Stephanie was prepared to run after him, until they both stopped to see Chris in the doorway, by Addy and Lance.

“What's going on?” he asked.

Not knowing what to say, everyone was silent.

“I see Justin and Steph are ready to kill each other again,” he said. “But that's the norm, so...I highly doubt you called a group meeting so I could watch the Celebrity Deathmatch.”

“Why don't we all sit down?” Addy asked.

As he watched the standing members move off to various chairs, he balked.

“Is this a coup?” he asked. “I agree, Joey needs to stop eating burritos before bedtime.”

He looked at a group of straight faces who refused to look him in the eye.

“Alright, what's going on?” he asked.

“We have a problem, Chris,” Addy said.

“And her name is Mila,” Justin said.

Stephanie, who had taken the seat next to him, reached over to smack his chest with the back of her hand.

“Goddamn it woman, quit hittin' me!” he said.

Chris, who had yet to sit down, crossed his arms across his chest.

“Mila, huh?” he asked.

“Chris, we love you,” Addy started.

“And we're not attacking you,” Lance continued.

“But Mila is...” Addy paused. “Mila has become a huge problem for all of us.”

“Is that right?” Chris asked. “What kind of problem, Addy?”

“Chris, I'm not trying to hurt you.” Addy stood up out of her seat and started to walk toward him, coaxing in a caring, sweet voice. “You know I love you. And you know that we support you after everything that has happened to you.”

“But?”

Addy sighed. “Mila is not right for you.”

“Who are you to judge who is right for me?” he asked.

“Mila is not who you think she is, Chris,” Stephanie said, standing up to walk over to both of them. “She's mean, she's spiteful, and she's using you for her own personal gain. She's the opposite of what you need right now, she's only going to drag you further down.”

“Who are you to decide what I need right now and what I don't?” Chris asked her, raising his voice. “Who are any of you to judge me or Mila? Do you all feel this way?”

As he looked around the sea of faces of his bandmates, none of them looked him in the eyes or objected, which was all he needed to see to come to a conclusion.

“Wow,” he said, in disbelief. “So much for band of brothers.”

“Chris--”

He put his hand up as Lance stood up and started approaching him, stopping him in his tracks.

“You all have brought your wives and girlfriends on the tour for extended periods of time, and I've had to sit around and watch it and suffer,” he said. “And I haven't objected once, or even said anything about it. Mila is staying on the tour as long as she wants to. You guys can suffer through it; I had to, now it's your turn. And once this tour is over...I'm done. NSYNC is over.”

He turned on his heels and headed for the door.

“For good,” he said, right before slamming the door behind him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AJ bobbed her toes lightly to the beat of the music playing in the background, “Blurry” by Puddle Of Mudd, humming to the words of the song. She dipped the small brush into the glass bottle and cleaned the excess off as she pulled it out, putting the brush to her first fingernail. She smeared the nail polish on until her nail changed from flesh-colored to the dark, shimmery midnight blue she had chosen, being careful to avoid her cuticles and the surrounding skin as much as she could.

Even though it required careful movements and a light touch, it didn't take long to cover her nail in the polish. Being a bass player, she had to keep her nails trimmed to a reasonable length, which she hated. She wasn't overly girly, but she did enjoy having modestly long and nicely-manicured nails once in a while. But even if she couldn't keep her nails long, she could keep them pretty with different polishes out of her collection of favorites.

The next show was in about ninety minutes and this was her routine to combat her nerves. She had been playing bass long enough to be considered above an amateur level, but there was something nerve-wracking about being just out of college and jumping right into a job as a bassist for arguably one of the best and biggest boy band reunions the world had seen this decade. It was a lot to live up to, and she knew this job could make or break her when it was time to move on to the next gig, whatever that may be.

“Oh, Annaleigh...”

AJ groaned at the voice, rolling her eyes slightly.

“Go away, you little ingrown hair on a jackrabbit's ass,” she told Justin, who stood in the doorway.

“That's a pretty mental picture,” he said.

“Neither are you,” she responded.

“Ouch,” Justin said, putting his hand to his heart, a slight grin at the corner of his lips. “Why you gotta be like that, girl?”

“Why do you have to be...well, you?” she asked.

“Come on, Annaleigh. We're friends.”

She rolled her eyes again. She hated when he used her first name.

“What do you want?”

“Found a hoop set up,” he said, producing a basketball in his hand from behind his back. “Thought you might wanna go let me kick your ass on the court before the show.”

“Sorry,” she said. She set the polish down and lifted her hand up to wiggle her fingers, showing off her newly painted nails. “Still wet.”

“Oh come on,” Justin said. “That's lame.”

“Yeah, you're right, my excuse is kind of lame,” she said. “Even if my nails weren't wet, I still wouldn't play with you.”

“Hater,” Justin replied.

“You know, earlier today, I wasn't very welcome in the little group 'family',” she said, moving on to the other hand, intermittently blowing on her painted hand to help the polish dry faster. “I guess I'm only family if you have no one else to play basketball with.”

“I didn't mean that,” Justin said. “You know that whole situation was a train wreck from the start.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said as Justin came further into the room. “I don't like Mila any more than the next person...but then I guess I don't have to ride on a bus with her every night either.”

“It's hell,” Justin said. “But kicking her out and living with a pissed-off Chris isn't going to be any better.” He paused, spinning the ball like a globe in his hand. “Can I bunk on the bands' bus with you?”

Her response was a mixture of a chuckle and a scoff. “Uh, no. I get enough of you every day.”

“You're mean.”

AJ smiled as she watched Justin wander around the little room she had carved out for herself as her makeshift 'dressing room'. Not every venue had one, but sometimes she could find a room that was used for storing random things like chairs and lighting that she could use to hideaway a few hours before each show. Justin always managed to find 'her' room, and would usually come by at least once before every show to ask her to play basketball, bug her in general, or sometimes just talk. As the youngest person on the tour, she sometimes felt out of place – even though he was still several years older than she was, he was the closest to her in age, so he gravitated towards her, and she towards him.

Even if sometimes he was a little annoying.

“So, how 'bout that round of hoops?” he asked as he watched her twist the cap back on the nail polish bottle.

She sat the bottle down on the cases of equipment stacked next to her chair, thinking about it a moment.

“Ten minutes for my nails to dry, and then you better be ready to get your ass whooped,” she said.

After she had let her nails dry and changed into a tank top and sweatpants so she wouldn't get her show clothes sweaty, she followed Justin down the quiet, empty hallway.

“HORSE or one-on-one?” he asked.

“Aren't we a little old to be playing HORSE?” she asked.

He turned to face her, walking backwards. “I just thought I would give you a slight advantage,” he said with a cocky grin.

“Or maybe you're afraid to get your ass whipped in one-on-one by a girl,” she said.

“I ain't afraid of nothin',” he said. “You can bring it, I can bring it.”

“Let's bring it then.”

Justin walked off still mumbling about the game, but AJ stopped in her place when she heard an out-of-place female giggle, along with whispered voices. She turned and looked around the hallway, which was only half open and filled with large equipment that the venue used, but she saw nothing.

“First to five, or first to ten?” Justin continued. “Five'd be faster, but we got about an hour so it shouldn't really be that big of--”

He stopped when he turned to see her stopped in the middle of the hallway, looking around.

“'Sup?” he asked. “You comin' or not?”

“Shh,” she said, holding her finger to her mouth. “I heard something.”

Justin remained silent as he walked over to her, looking around the room himself.

“I don't hear anything,” he said. “Come on, let's go.”

“Wait,” she said, her voice lowered. “Listen.”

They both stood in the hallway in silence until the giggle came again.

“You hear that?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Who you 'spose that is?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he quickly stopped her by clamping his hand over her mouth. As the voices and laughter had gotten louder, he saw her come walking down the other side of the hallway.

“Mila!” he said in a loud whisper.

With his hand still clamped over her mouth, he pulled her down to the floor, kneeling behind some large, heavy equipment. He could see Mila clearly from behind the bars, but he was confident that she wouldn't be able to see them hiding there.

“What do you think she's doing?” AJ asked in a quiet whisper.

“All bets are on nothing good,” Justin whispered back, before holding his finger up to his mouth to signal for her to shush.

Being completely silent, the two of them stayed hidden behind the equipment for a few moments, watching. Justin could clearly see Mila – she was smiling, laughing, and talking with someone – but he couldn't get a good enough look at whoever she was with, blocked by the equipment he was hiding behind.

He couldn't get a clear picture until they both turned, so Mila's back was toward Justin and her companion was in view, and he saw Mila roughly shove him against the wall to lean her lips in towards his.

“That cheating little bitch!” he whispered harshly.

He looked over to see AJ's jaw dropped, as he was sure his was.

“That's Benji,” AJ whispered. “He's on the set-up crew!”

“That scumbag,” Justin said. “You know, I let him borrow one of my Michael Jackson CDs and the bastard never gave it back.”

“Not surprised, I'm pretty sure Chris didn't let him borrow his girlfriend either,” AJ said.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What about the black with the red plaid?”

Lance looked over at his wife, who was holding two hangers of clothes up – a black wifebeater under a red plaid button-up shirt.

“Black gets hot under all those lights,” he said. “And I hate that red shirt.”

Stephanie, sitting on the couch in Lance's dressing room, groaned.

“You're worse than a girl,” she said. “Half an hour to pick an outfit you'll wear for ten minutes before your first costume change. Just pick something.”

“Don't you have your own dressing room to loiter in?” Lance asked her.

“Actually, no I don't,” Stephanie responded.

“Don't you have a husband who does have his own dressing room that you can go loiter in?”

“It's more fun to annoy you. And I'm better at it.”

Addy smiled and shook her head as she separated the shirts and hung them back on the rack. Once they were in their places, she continued her search through the rack, sliding shirts over as she glanced at each one.

“What about this?” she asked, lifting up a sporty denim blue tee with a faded and cracked screen-printed logo on it.

“That'll do,” Lance said.

Adeline pulled the shirt off the hanger and threw it over to him, and he caught it in his hands.

“Sporty chic with a hint of college frat pledge,” Stephanie said. “So much better than simple black and the dressiness of a shirt with actual buttons.”

She turned up her nose as Lance removed the shirt he had on and lobbed it over to her, landing on her head.

“Gross, man sweat,” she said, throwing the discarded shirt toward Addy.

Addy caught the shirt in her hands and threw it in the hamper she used for dirty laundry, and when she turned around, she saw AJ and Justin walking into the room towards her, looking almost panicked.

“We've got a problem,” Justin said.

“What is it?” Addy asked.

“Mila,” AJ said.

“Playing a rousing game of tonsil hockey,” Justin continued.

“With Benji, the crew staff,” AJ finished.

Their attention aroused, Stephanie and Lance had stopped what they were doing to gather around the other three.

“Crap,” Addy said.

Chapter 28 – Jesus Take The Wheel

Little Rock, Arkansas – Friday, October 10, 2014

As the small white pieces of gravel crunched underneath her sneakers, Melissa approached the small off-white colored house just wondering – what would the reaction be? Would they be happy to see her? Would they be indifferent? Would they even want her around? Would things have changed since the last time she saw them?

The minute she had pulled down the dirt road toward the neighborhood, she had been hit with memories from her childhood. Pulling into the driveway, she remembered playing inside that fenced-in yard. The grass was just as green now as it was back then. She remembered the swing set she used to have as a little girl, and that time she tried to fly out of the swing mid-air, hitting a stray piece of white rock from the walkway and cutting her knee. She remembered getting too old for that swing set, and selling it to the neighbors, who had used it for years for their kids until they got too old for it as well.

She looked over at the window, remembering having her high school graduation photo taken in front of it; holding her diploma, smiling, thinking of all the wonderful things her future held.

It almost made her want to cry, realizing now how wrong she had been that day.

She pushed on, opening the old white gate to the yard, and stopping for a moment to pet the white shih tzu that ran up to her.

“Hey, Harley.”

She smiled as the dog recognized her, starting to wag his tail wildly before jumping up to her to lick her face, unable to contain his excitement.

“Oh Harl,” she said with a laugh as she put her hand to his head, giving it a scratch. “Look at you, old man.”

She gently grabbed his head, looking him over from side-to-side and then finally, directly in the eyes. Harley had been a puppy when she was a teenager. Now, she was startled at how much he had aged. His wild white fur coat had lost most of its sheen and luster. His bright eyes had succumbed to cataracts. And even though his tail still flew dangerously quick from side-to-side and he had strode over to her with excitement, she could tell that his poor body and legs didn't move like they used to.

“Excuse me, can I--”

Melissa was startled when she heard the door open and a woman's voice, standing up and turning slightly. The moment they locked eyes, she watched her mother's hand fly to her mouth.

“Oh!” she said with a gasp, her eyes wide. “Melissa?”

“Momma?” Melissa said, a questioning tone in her voice.

Both of them stood silently for a few moments, unsure of what to say to each other...until Melissa's mom lowered her hand, rushed down from the porch, and immediately scooped Melissa up into the tightest hug she had ever experienced.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I can't believe it,” Cathie said, shaking her head. “I just can't believe it.”

Melissa silently held the coffee mug in her hand.

“My little girl,” her mother said. “I never thought I'd see you again.”

“I'm so sorry, momma,” Melissa said. “I've been a horrible daughter.”

“Oh, baby,” Cathie said. “No. No, you haven't been a horrible daughter. Honey, we understand.”

“Where's daddy?” Melissa asked quietly after another sip of the coffee in her mug.

“Work called him out about two hours ago,” Cathie said, glancing at the watch on her hand. “It was something small, so he should be home soon.”

Melissa nodded.

“He'll be so happy to see you, honey,” Cathie said. “You have no idea.”

Melissa sighed, finally succumbing to the feeling of discomfort in her own mother's presence.

“I wish I knew what to say, momma,” she said. “I mean, I just came here, and...”

“There's nothing to say, sweetheart,” Cathie said, her tone comforting. “There's nothing you need to say, there's nothing we expect you to say. It's just good to see you today.”

Melissa sighed again, feeling a small weight lift off her chest.

“I almost didn't get here,” she said. “The truck is so bad, and Der--”

She stopped herself, choking on his name.

“Well, things at home are bad,” she said.

“I know,” Cathie responded. Melissa noticed her eyes fall to her mug that sat between her hands on the table. “Your dad told me he ran into you at the supermarket one day, and you couldn't even afford what few groceries you had.”

Melissa felt her cheeks flush, humiliation taking over.

“I--” Cathie choked. “I wanted to...to bring a few things to you. Groceries, some clothes...but I was afraid of what the result would be. What he might do.”

“He thinks I'm working an extra shift right now,” Melissa said. “He's going to be pissed when he looks at my check and doesn't see those hours. But you know what, mom?”

“What's that?”

“I don't care anymore,” Melissa said. “I...I can't. I've lost every caring bone in my body. He's sucked it all out of me.”

Cathie sat silently as she watched her daughter break down into tears.

“You reach a certain point where it just...doesn't hurt anymore,” Melissa said. “I mean yeah, when he hits you or punches you or throws you into a wall it still hurts. But your pride, your ego, your emotions...that doesn't hurt anymore because he's taken all of it away from you. You know you've hit rock bottom because you've just given into it. You've accepted that this is what your life is and there's no way to change it.”

Melissa paused to wipe away tears.

“My life has to mean more than this, mom,” she said.

“It does, honey,” Cathie said. “You just can't see it right now because, like you said, this is rock bottom. When you're stuck at the bottom of a deep hole, all you can see is that there's a way out, but it's so far away it's unreachable. You can't see what's beyond that escape and why it's worth the effort to try.”

“What's left for me if I ever make it out?” Melissa asked. “My friends have all moved on, Chris hates me for what I've done to him.”

“You don't know that,” Cathie said. “They may be out there doing other things, but just because their lives haven't come to a complete standstill doesn't mean there's no room for you. Those girls drove all the way to Arkansas, that has to mean something.”

Melissa chuckled. “Yeah. Addy showed up again the other day. I guess she's pregnant.”

“That's great.”

“I missed it,” Melissa said. “Addy and Lance are my two best friends in the entire world, and they've been through so much...and I haven't been there for them. It kills me.”

“You will have an opportunity to be there for them...soon,” Cathie said.

“It's not that easy, mom,” Mel said. “Everybody thinks it's so easy to just leave.”

“It's not easy, Melissa,” Cathie said, reaching out to grab her daughter's hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “I'm not saying it is. I know how hard it is, I've watched you struggle. That's the first thing I tell people, is that it's not as easy as just packing up your stuff and walking out the door. But you are one of the lucky few that will get an opportunity.”

“You don't know that,” Melissa said.

“I do,” Cathie said. “I do know, Melissa. I have hoped for it, prayed for it. I know God will come through for us...for you.”

Melissa looked down, and immediately reached into the pocket of her jacket. Feeling the coolness of the pearls as she pulled it out, she placed the rosary in front of her and her mother on the table.

“I've prayed too, momma,” Melissa said. “Chris gave me this, as a Christmas gift. I went to Mass with him that Christmas. It was snowing in New York, and it was just...beautiful. It was perfect. Everything it should be.”

Melissa fingered the rhinestone-studded cross, remembering that freezing cold night.

“I thought God would always be there for me,” she said.

“Oh Melissa, He is,” Cathie said. Her tone had taken on a calm insistence. “Child, Jesus is always with us.”

“Then why haven't things changed, momma?”

Cathie sighed.

“Come with me, Melissa,” she said. “I need to read you something.”

Melissa narrowed her tear-filled eyes with confusion, but followed her mother from the kitchen into the living room as she had asked her to do. Stepping over the old wooden floor, with certain planks that creaked and dipped under her feet, it hit her once again just how odd it was being in her old childhood home. She hadn't been here for something like three years, since she moved to New York; before that, she hadn't been to the home in several more because of Derek.

It no longer felt like home. Home...her own home, no longer felt like home. Arkansas no longer felt like home either. New York, that was what felt like home.

Her mom went immediately to the bookcase, but she bypassed the books and photo albums that made their home there, instead reaching for a photo frame propped up on the shelf in its own empty space.

“Do you remember this, Melissa?” her mother asked, running her finger over the glass of the frame before turning it around and handing it to her.

“Footprints in the Sand?” Melissa asked as she read. “Momma, what--”

“Read it, Melissa.”

Hearing her mother's commanding yet motherly tone, Melissa focused her eyes back on the photo.

“One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord,” Melissa read from the poem. “Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky. In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were two sets of footprints, other times there were only one set of footprints.”

Melissa paused to look up at her mother, who only made a gesture with her eyes to keep reading.

“This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow, or...”

Melissa paused at the next word, trying to choke down what was trying to make its way up.

“...or defeat, I could only see one set of footprints.”

She took a deep breath.

“So I said to the Lord, 'You promised me Lord, that if I followed You, You would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life, there have only been one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed You most, You have not been there for me?'”

Cathie reached out and took the picture frame from Melissa's hands before she could continue to read.

“And the Lord replied,” Cathie continued reading, “'The times when you have seen only one set of footprints, it is then that I carried you.'”

Cathie carefully set the photo frame back on the shelf, propped up in its place.

“The Lord is always with us, Melissa,” she said. “Even when we don't see Him, He is there. He doesn't always make His presence known to us, because if we knew He was there, we would never rely on ourselves. We would never learn to walk that sandy beach on our own. We would rely on Jesus to carry us when we need to learn to carry ourselves.”

“Haven't I learned to carry myself enough?” Melissa asked. “I've walked this road all my own, for way too long. momma, I don't think I can walk any further.”

“You can, baby,” Cathie said. “Trust in Jesus, darling. Trust that He loves you, and He would never let you walk a rocky path unless He knew you could handle it on your own. And trust that when there comes a time you can go no further, He will be there to carry you.”

Disheartened, Melissa lowered her head and sighed, trying not to cry. It was hard to have faith and trust that any entity would be there to carry her when she needed it. There had been so many times over the past nine months that she was broken, weary, and couldn't do it anymore; she had prayed, but nobody had been there to carry her during those times.

How was she supposed to believe that she was this strong, that during all those rough moments, nobody had carried her because she was strong enough to walk on her own?

“Momma?” Melissa finally said.

“Yes?” her mother responded.

“Will you pray with me?” Melissa said softly.

Cathie heard the vulnerable, child-like manner in which her daughter had asked her to pray with her. She could only take her daughter's hand, smile softly, and lead her to the couch in the living room. She sat down, leading Melissa to sit next to her.

She grasped her daughter's hand tightly, bowing her head and closing her eyes, as Melissa followed.

“Lord, we come to You today to pray,” Cathie said. “We come to You to pray for many things, Lord. We pray for strength for our daughter, Melissa, for her to overcome the obstacles she struggles with on a daily basis. We pray for our daughter to have renewed faith in herself, so she is able to believe that she can overcome anything if she trusts in herself and trusts in You. Jesus, we pray to You to give our daughter an opportunity to escape the path she is on right now, and lead her down a path that will give her happiness and fulfillment. We pray to You for our daughter's protection against the evil grasp that is upon her at this moment. And Lord, we pray to You, that You will lead our daughter to the true love she seeks – not only true love for another, but true love in herself, so she will see the wonderful person that we, and You, know that she is.”

Fighting back tears, Melissa took in a breath, feeling overwhelmed.

“Jesus, we thank You,” Cathie continued. “We thank You for all the blessings You have given us, and for Your continued guidance. Amen.”

“Amen,” Melissa said softly.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fighting to see through the windshield through the torrential rain with wipers that should have been replaced weeks ago, Melissa drove down the bumpy street town.

She had stayed at her parents' house for several hours, finally seeing her father after he came home from work. Once again, she had cried seeing him, hugging him again after all this time. Her mother had insisted she stay for dinner. Pot roast, potatoes, pearl onions, carrots, delicious whole green beans smothered in melted butter, and her mom's famous dinner rolls that melted in her mouth. She had stuffed herself so full of food that she could barely move, and she didn't know if she would need to eat again for an entire week.

Leaving the house had been hard, especially knowing what she would have to go back to – a house that smelled of vodka, tequila, and who knew what other kinds of alcohol Derek would have consumed by the time she got back. Instead of her mother's clean, welcoming house, she would go back to a dirty house that smelled like cigarette smoke, where he had piled the dishes so high she would spend all night doing them. Instead of her mother's home cooking, she would go home to a nearly-empty fridge, where she would have a choice between a ham sandwich or a package of noodles for dinner.

The rain had been slow as she had left the house, but by the time she hit Linley Drive, it was coming down in thick sheets. It covered her windshield, and the worn wipers on the truck were doing nothing to push it away. She could only see the glares of headlights and street lamps that were in front of her, and the stop lights were nothing but blurs that changed colors as she drove down the streets.

She thought she was safe as she turned off onto the country road that would eventually lead to her house. The ride became bumpier as the tires struggled to overcome the wet dirt of the roads and the thick bumps that had formed from so many heavy trucks driving down it every day.

One bump was all it took; she tried to compensate with a turn of the wheel, but the lack of visibility and the heavy rain worked against her. She felt the truck skidding fishtail towards the left side of the road. All she could hear as the truck headed toward the side of the road was the radio playing in the background and the sound of the tires tearing through the dirt; all she could see was the heavy rain and the trees coming closer to her.

She lifted her hands from the wheel, accepting the fact that nothing she could do at this point would change the course of where the truck would head. The bumping of the truck jerked her around repeatedly as it went its own way. Finally she heard a loud boom reverberate through the cab, and felt one more sharp jerk as the truck stopped but inertia kept her moving, throwing her against the steering wheel as the truck came to a sudden stop.

After a few moments, she cautiously lifted her head. Her heart was beating out of her chest and her breathing was racing. The rain was still falling too heavily to see what it was that had stopped the truck from moving, but from the sound the crash had made, she could only guess it was something large – and heavy enough to trash the entire front of the truck.

“Damn it!”

She slammed her fists against the steering wheel as hard as she could as the tears started falling. He would kill her if she came back and the front of the truck was totaled.

She sat a few moments letting the tears fall, listening to the rain pound against the glass and metal of the truck.

Eventually, she steeled herself to reach over to the handle, opening the old creaky door. She lifted the hood of her jacket over her head as she stepped out, even though it would offer her very little protection in this weather. Her shoes sunk into the wet ground as she stepped out and walked out to the front of the truck to survey the damage, already feeling the rain soak into her jacket and her skin.

The tears stopped and her mouth dropped when she saw what was in front of the truck.

The headlights illuminated the large marble cross statue outside the Our Lady of Redemption church. It was less than a mile from her house, and she had even been there once or twice, when she could make it without Derek that was. It was surrounded by forested areas, mostly hidden from view. The statue had been there for as long as she could remember.

Ahead of her, the statue hid a less forested area, but on the side of the road, there laid a large ditch. It was so deep that even though it had only been raining a short time, the amount of rain had already flooded it halfway up. If the truck had plowed through the statue, the truck would have nose-dived straight into the ditch. It would have likely flipped a few times; chances were that it would have eventually landed upside-down. With the amount of flooding, she could have easily drowned.

She took a few more struggled breaths before composing herself to look at the front of the truck, then the statue. What she saw made a stifled laugh escape her lips.

Not only did the statue not have a scratch on it, neither did the truck.

Even though she was soaked to the bone and already feeling a chill on her wet skin, she stood there a moment to compose herself. She could have easily died if the statue hadn't stopped the truck. That alone was amazing. The fact that neither statue nor truck were damaged in any way cemented it for her.

Jesus had heard the prayer she had said that night with her mother. All those times she had thought He wasn't listening, He was. He was laying in wait, letting her stand on her own two feet. She didn't think she was strong enough to handle everything that life had thrown her way; in reality, she was just strong enough. But at the moment that her life had spun out of control, and she truly couldn't walk on her own, Jesus had taken over and carried her. It was only because of Him that she was safe and alive.

After a few moments her breathing had returned to normal. Even though she had just been through one of the most terrifying moments of her life, and had nearly faced death that night, she was thinking more clearly than ever.

Jesus would help her, but getting there was her responsibility. She had to believe in herself first. If she wanted things to change, she had to do whatever she could to take the steps before Jesus would take over. She had plenty of reasons, she had a plan, and she had a thousand reasons to change her life waiting for her, hidden where he would never be able to find it.

Now, she only had to wait for the opportunity to present itself. But she knew one thing.

When that opportunity came, she would leave, and never look back.

Chapter 29 – Bet The Odds

St. Louis, Missouri – Friday, October 11, 2014

“This is awkward!”

Justin looked at AJ, who was grinding her back against his front attempting to look like she was dancing with him, while looking as uncomfortable as possible.

“What is?” he asked.

“Dancing like this...with you,” she said loudly over the music. “I feel like every woman in this club between the age of twenty-five and forty is staring at me, imagining all the ways they can kill me to get to you!”

“Turn around!”

“What?” she yelled.

“Turn around!” Justin yelled back at her.

She turned her body toward him, gasping as he swiftly wrapped his arms around her torso and pulled her in close to him.

“Tramp at two-o-clock,” he whispered in her ear.

Still stunned by him moving her body so close to his, she subtly moved her eyes to look to her right. As he said, there was Mila, coming back from the bar, carrying another round of drinks for the crowd of random men who had gathered to drool over her at the table.

“She could at least try to--”

“Not be a two-timing piece of trash?” Justin asked.

“I was going to say 'be a little more subtle', but that works too,” AJ said. “How many rounds of drinks is that now?”

“Who's still counting?” Justin asked.

AJ felt a hand lay on her arm as the music cut from the upbeat dance song to a slower R&B number.

“Mind if I cut in?” Lance asked.

Justin nodded in agreement, releasing AJ and handing her over to Lance as he walked off the dance floor toward where JC stood.

“That was the signal,” AJ said as Lance took her in his arms to dance along to the music. “So everything must be on track?”

“Addy and Chris are on their way,” he said. “He thinks Mila is sick and too drunk, and she needs a ride.”

“He buys that?”

“Addy is convincing,” he said.

“So how does this work again?” she asked. She was vaguely aware that Justin and Lance had put together a carefully crafted plan that would ensure Chris would catch Mila cheating, but she only knew her role in the plan.

“Look over my shoulder and tell me what you see,” Lance said.

AJ looked over Lance's shoulder as he asked, directly at Mila's table. One of her admirers had taken a particular interest in her and had stood from the booth, holding his hand out as she scooted out to join him.

“She's leaving with one of them,” she responded.

“He look familiar?”

She looked closer.

“It's Brett,” she responded. “One of the tech crew?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he mumbled. “He's a plant. His signal to make a move on Mila was when I cut in to dance with you.”

“And then?”

“And then Addy will call JC when they're two minutes away, supposedly to check they have the right address,” he said. “JC will text Brett, and Brett will make his move.”

“How can you be so sure she'll take the bait?”

“Brett's been wooing her all night and practically pouring the drinks down her throat,” he said. “She's so drunk right now, I'd be amazed if she even knows who Chris is when he walks in the door.”

“She barely notices him when she's sober,” AJ responded. “She doesn't exactly play girlfriend of the year.”

Lance chuckled, but remained silent. He danced with her half-heartedly, and she noticed his stare was elsewhere; she wondered whether he was thinking of his wife, or of poor Chris and the chaos that was sure to follow after tonight.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” she asked him, her voice lower.

“It has to work,” Lance responded, his gaze still far off. “This is the only option we have left.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you sure this is the right turn?”

Chris gripped the steering wheel and clenched his teeth. He didn't want to lose his temper with Adeline, but she was starting to get on his nerves.

“I don't know, Ad, is it?” he asked, his tone biting.

“You don't have to get crabby with me, Kirkpatrick,” she responded, picking up on his frustration. “I'm just asking.”

“Well, how am I supposed to know if this is the right turn or not?” he asked. “It's not like I've ever lived in St. Louis before, or actually gone to this club.”

“That's why they invented cell phones,” Addy responded, pulling out her phone. “I'll call JC and check that we've got the right address. Then when we get there, we can buy you a few shots so you'll relax a little.”

She smiled a little when she heard him grunt. She hit the speed dial on her cell phone for JC's number, and put it up to her ear. Her gut lurched as it started to ring; she could easily pass it off to Chris as a kick or twirl from the baby in her belly, but it was nervousness. Setting him up like this didn't feel wrong because Mila was a cheater and everyone knew it, everyone except Chris. But if one thing went wrong and he found out that they had all lied to him to get him there, she was afraid that he would never speak to any of them again.

“What's up?” JC answered.

“Hey, C, we're a little lost,” she answered. “Can you tell me how to get there again?”

“Two minutes, right?”

“Right,” Adeline confirmed. “So take a left on Turner Street and then a right on 21st?”

“You better get here fast,” JC said. “Mila is all over this guy. It's disgusting.”

“Great,” Addy said. “Looks like we're on the right street then, thanks JC.”

She hung up the phone, feeling slightly guilty for deceiving Chris the way she was with phone call signals and secret codes.

“There's Turner Street, right there,” she said, pointing at the street sign.

Chris sighed as he flicked the turn signal and swerved into the turning lane. Adeline sighed heavily as she sat her phone back in her lap and slumped her shoulders, sending up a silent prayer that all of this ended the best possible way it could.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You know it's cold out here?” Brett asked as he crossed his arms across his chest, rubbing his hands feverishly down them. He had only worn a thin, tight t-shirt, and wasn't aware that the deal had included going outside with his 'charge' for smoke breaks.

Mila let the cigarette dangle from her mouth loosely as she lit the lighter and put the flame to the tip. She took a swift breath in and released the smoke slowly into the air.

“It's not that cold,” she slurred. She put the cigarette back in her mouth and muffled talking with it. “'Sides, a big, strong man like you should be able to stand a little cold.”

Brett turned his head away so he could roll his eyes. When Justin and Lance had begged him to be their mole, he knew it wouldn't be a pleasant situation. But after spending an entire night with Mila, he couldn't understand why Chris was as attracted to the woman as he seemed to be – and not only because of the fact that she was now standing in front of him with a cigarette dangling distastefully out of her mouth. She could curse like a sailor, down drinks at a nauseating pace, and had spent the entire night flirting shamelessly with any man that said more than two words to her – never once worrying that Chris's best friends were watching her behavior the entire time.

“Don't you have a boyfriend?” he asked her.

“A boyfriend?” Mila looked dumbly at him for a moment before half-heartedly nodding. “Yeah, I guess he's my boyfriend. Not really my type. A little too short and not really that good looking. I'm just with him because he's friends with Justin,” she explained, cozying up to Brett once more after she finished her cigarette. “I prefer younger men,” she smiled at him coyly, her words still slurred.

Brett let Mila kiss him once more, praying that the whole charade would be over soon.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chris looked over at Adeline when they pulled into the parking lot of the club, winding around to where they were parked close to the front.

“I'm going to go find Mila and make sure she's okay.”

Adeline spotted Mila kissing Brett. “Umm, Chris,” she murmured, not taking her eyes off the woman practically shoving her tongue down the man's throat.

Chris glance to where Addy was looking and swallowed hard. He watched the display for a moment before unbuckling his seat belt, not saying a word as he got out of the car.

He ignored Adeline as she said his name and struggled to unbuckle her seat belt, trying to hurry and stop him. His emotions were a mess, but mostly what came to the surface was anger. Chris had protected Mila from all of his friends, sticking up for her when they're tried to tell him she was no good; that she was a pain and he'd turned a blind eye to it. He cleared his throat and watched Mila look at him and smile, staggering a bit as she held on to Brett.

“Hey Chris.” Mila drug the greeting out a little, patting the other man on the shoulder. “I was just saying hi to Benji--”

“His name's Brett,” Chris interrupted her, taking a step backward when she stepped toward him. “And it looked like you had your tongue shoved halfway down his throat. What the fuck, Mila?”

Mila looked at Chris for a moment and her eyes narrowed. “You know, I never really was interested in you. I felt sorry for you, actually – pining away for some girl who obviously was smart enough to leave you...” Her words were slurred but her intent was clear. “Because who wants to date the oldest guy in a boy band when there are so many others to choose from? Face it Chris, even now you're still the least known member. No one will ever want you.”

Chris thought some semblance of his heart had been repaired, that he was on the mend at least a little. However, he realized it had been a cruel joke as the woman he thought had cared for him was now ripping him to shreds.

“I had a woman who loved me,” he said. “Who wanted me.”

“Like I said, she left,” Mila told him. “Men like you always get left. Nice guys finish last, Chris. Haven't you figured that out yet?”

Chris stared hard at the woman in front of him. He'd had girlfriends and break-ups, been heartbroken, but nothing like he'd felt in the past eight months. It had been the most emotionally draining time in his life and he'd had to keep it together.

But at this moment, he snapped.

“What the hell do you know about me, you fucking bitch?” he yelled, backing her up against the bricks of the club. “All you are is a sorry excuse for a female who is just looking for the next dick to jump and a free ride! I've seen enough of those in my day, believe me.”

“Fuck you, you fell for it,” Mila told him, straightening her shoulders. “You weren't anything special.”

By this time, Lance and Joey had come outside to stand beside Addy, who was holding on to her husband in tears as she listened to Mila tear Chris down.

“If I'm not anything special then it won't be any big loss to you to tell you to fuck off. You're gone. Now.”

Mila's mouth was left hanging open for a moment. “You...you can't leave me here in St. Louis! I have no way to get home. You fucking bastard!”

When Chris kept walking toward the door, she took off one of her shoes and lobbed it at his head, missing.

“I hope that tramp is laying somewhere with the fuck beat out of her!”

Chris stopped and turned, looking at Mila.

“What was that?” he asked, his voice raspy with emotion.

She wouldn't win the war, but she could win the battle. Mila may not have been endearing to everyone on the bus, but she'd paid enough attention to know what had happened to Chris's ex-girlfriend. And since he was unceremoniously tossing her out, she would get in the last dig.

“If she was so dumb to go back to the guy who beat her, she deserves whatever she gets.”

Chris didn't make it to get his hands on Mila, with Joey holding him back as he fought against him.

“Let me go, Joe,” he growled, struggling against the bigger man. “I'll gladly go sit in jail for a night.”

“No one needs to go sit in jail. She's not worth it, man,” Joey told him, feeling Chris relax after a few moments of struggling. After everything they'd all went through, he almost wanted to let him go after her. However, Joey didn't want the consequences of that action.

“You're fucking gone, you fucking cunt ass bitch!” Chris yelled at Mila, who was retrieving her shoe, looking at him and flipping him off.

“Come on, Chris, let's go get a drink – or five,” Joey said as he pushed Chris toward the door of the club. “You need it.”

Lance tracked Chris and Joey going into the club and Mila getting into a can. He looked down at Adeline, who had tear tracks running down her cheeks.

“If he ever finds out we planned that whole thing,” she said, wiping away tears, “he won't speak to any of us.”

His head snapped up a few seconds later when Brett went sailing out the front door of the club, with Chris right behind him.

“Shit...” he muttered as he let go of Addy to help Justin pull Chris off of Brett. Justin was drunk enough that he couldn't get a good grip on Chris, and the older man was out for blood.

“Get the fuck off me, Timberlake,” Chris said loudly, rearing back his fist to hit Brett once more until Lance side tackled him. The two men ended up halfway out in the parking lot with Lance on top of Chris.

“I wasn't done with him,” Chris huffed, watching Justin help Brett up.

“If you want to beat up all the guys Mila made out with...there's a long line,” Lance said, grunting as he got up and reached down to help Chris up. He frowned when Chris laid there, not missing the tear tracks down his friend's face.

“Come on, let's go back to the hotel,” he tried again.

“Since I'm here, I might as well go drink more,” Chris said, ignoring Lance's hand and getting up slowly on his own. “I'm too old for this shit,” he said quietly as he walked off toward the door.

A Kelly Clarkson song met Lance and Addy as they made their way back into the club. The group didn't say much, except for Justin who was watching Chris with the line of shots he had lined up on the table.

“You sure you want all that alcohol, Kirkpatrick?” he asked.

“What are you, my fucking mother?” Chris snarked, throwing a shot back. “If anyone's looking for a last minute birthday gift for me, don't bother. Nothing has gone right in eight months so why should it start now?” He downed another shot. “This if fucking worse than when you told us you weren't coming back to record another album. We were left to figure out what the fuck we were doing while you went on to be Mister Super-Fucking-Star Justin Timberlake.”

Justin took the jab, watching Chris pick up another shot. “You want another round?” he asked Chris, waving at the waitress who nodded.

Chapter 30 – I'm Movin' On

Little Rock, Arkansas – October 16, 2014

“You're on the breakfast shift tomorrow, Weston,” George told Melissa as she carried a stack of dishes into the back as they closed up.

“George, you're trying to kill me,” Melissa groaned, knowing she requested the double shift tomorrow. In her mind, she wouldn't be there. However, she said nothing to her friends. It was rude in a way not to tell them, but at the same time, it made it easier. That way Derek couldn't glean any information from them. The less they knew, the more protected they were.

Melissa restocked the napkins in all of the holders, refilled the salt and pepper shakers, the sugar packets and everything else after wiping down tables as Gina stacked chairs and mopped the floor.

“So...tomorrow's Chris's birthday,” Gina said amid the silence, popping her gum.

“Yeah,” Melissa replied, sucking in a breath to try and not get emotional. She couldn't get her hopes up. Nothing was ever certain, and knowing Derek the way she did there was a good chance even having the thought of leaving was dashed.

“How old's he gonna be?” she asked, wringing the mop out.

“Forty-three,” she told her after a moment's pause, glad when it was silent again.

Her mind was definitely on Chris when she got in the truck to go home. The radio was playing a Taylor Swift song and her mind wandered for a moment, a smile on her face.

“Midnight, you come and pick me up no head lights...You got that James Dean daydream look in your eyes...”

“Technically, it's too cold for this, Weston,” Chris told her, zipping up his leather jacket and handing Melissa her helmet. How she talked him into a night ride on the motorcycle he'd never know. They'd be stuck on the tour bus for months and he'd relented, knowing she loved it. After a day of rehearsals, he should be taking pain pills and going to bed. “How do you talk me into these sort of things? Do I have 'sucker' written across my forehead?”

“Have I mentioned you look hot?” Melissa smirked, looking him up and down. Leather jacket, leather chaps, boots...Chris looked like a bad ass. The faux hawk and beard horns made it even more so, blushing when she remembered her look of surprise when he walked in the door that evening. “And I love you...like a lot.”

“I'm sold,” Chris said, leaning in and kissing her softly “Come on. Your old man turns into a pumpkin around ten-thirty.”

“I thought it was midnight?” she asked, climbing onto the motorcycle behind him as he started it up.

“That was ten years ago. You missed that window of opportunity.”

“In other words, it went bye bye bye.”

Chris groaned and turned his head. “Only you, Mel. Let's ride.”

The stench that met Melissa's nose when she got home made her gag. Derek's drinking had gotten worse and in turn, cleaning up after him had gotten to be more of a chore. Food was now spilled as well as alcohol. He was drunk, asleep in the chair, snoring with the television on some re-run. She put out the lit cigarette that was sitting in the ashtray, giving a half-second though to letting the ashes flick onto the carpet.

She no longer drug Derek to bed, letting him wake up in his chair in the same place he passed out at. It pissed him off, but she no longer cared. Melissa cleaned because it was disgusting. Not bothering to change out of her work clothes, she picked up the food and empty beer bottles before going to take a shower.

Stripping off her clothes, she looked at the bruises. The last ones had hurt the most, her ribs looking like a match between her and Floyd Mayweather. Derek had caught her by surprise, being sober enough for a fight. Melissa had fought back, but with the amount of alcohol in him, it had only angered him more. He'd run out of cigarettes and since she'd been at work, he'd been without. So naturally, that called for a beating and a barrage of name-calling. That and her check being short earlier that week had made it a bad week for her.

However, the thought of Chris's birthday kept her going. For her and Eric's plan not to fall through.

Melissa had spent the time working and praying. She was terrified of Derek finding out she was even thinking of leaving. That if she even thought it, that somehow he would find out in his alcoholic haze and do so many times what he threatened to do.

To kill her. Because no one would miss her.

Wrapping the towel around herself, Melissa looked at herself in the mirror and heard one of Derek's louder snores. A glance at the clock made her smile...1:17 AM.

“Happy birthday, Kirkpatrick,” she said softly.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The knock that came to the door startled Eric out of his sleep. He jumped up in bed, throwing the covers off his legs. Years of cop instincts made him reach over to the bedside table for his service pistol without even thinking about it, and he took a glance at the clock.

Who could be at his door at 2:20 in the morning?

He blinked the sleep daze out of his eyes and threw his legs over the side of the bed. Once his feet were firmly planted on the floor, he grasped the gun at his side. He walked through the hallway and to his living room just as he had learned in the Academy – swift and careful movements with the weapon at his side out of harm's way, but at the ready in case what stood behind the door was danger.

When he looked out the peephole and saw her standing there, cowering, he loosened his grasp on the gun – making sure his finger was still on the trigger in case she wasn't alone.

“What are you doing here?” he asked with a whisper as he opened the door.

She stood shrunk back against his brick porch entrance, the position she took the minute the outside light had turned on.

“I...” Melissa said, unable to get the words out.

He watched her lips tremble, as she licked them nervously every few moments. Her breathing was ragged, her shoulders slumped; she couldn't speak, and she was trying to hold the tears back, but it really was no use.

“Come on,” he whispered, motioning for her to slip inside the house. He grabbed her arm as she did, and stepped a foot outside his door. He looked to his left and to his right cautiously, paying extra attention to Mel's house next door. When he didn't see any stirring that might alert him to Derek's presence, he relaxed his finger and went back inside, closing the door.

“What happened?” he asked her.

He watched her pace around the room, her body not able to cope with everything going through her mind at the moment. He saw the bruises that showed through her bed clothes, both new and old. She was littered with them. She tried the best she could to hide them under clothes, so some he had never seen. Some of them were old, some new, in various stages of healing. He also noticed the fresh ones, that looked like she had just gotten them that night.

She chewed at her broken lips as she let tears slip from her eyes.

“What do you want to do, Melissa?” he finally asked her.

“What can I do?” she asked.

“Anything you want,” he said, finally setting his gun down on a table. “You can stay here tonight. I can get you to a hotel if you'd rather do that. If you want, we can go to the station and I can file a report, go to the hospital and get pictures of the evidence...”

She shook her head, and he stopped.

“Look, it's whatever you want, Mel,” he said. “This is your call. All you gotta do is say the word.”

She stopped pacing and paused a moment, chewing over the words he'd just said. This is your call. All you gotta do is say the word.

For the past several months, all her choices had been taken away. She was told what to do and when to do it; she wasn't given an option to say when, or have any control over her life.

“Take me home,” she said.

Eric paused. “Home to...?”

“To Chris,” she said. “To my friends. Eric, please, take me home.”

Chapter 31 – 43

It had taken Eric a few minutes to get himself ready, grabbing his badge and gun that had still been lying on the table and putting it in his holster. He noted that Melissa had actually come in with her purse, her other things in his trunk. It wasn't much, but it was all she had, along with the money she'd told him about.

“Let's go,” he said quietly, his hand on her back gently as he got her into the car, headlights off until they got down the street.

At the stop light, he looked over at the woman who had her head buried in her hands, sobbing.

“You're going to be alright,” he told her.

“I know,” she said softly, her voice thick with tears. “I just...I didn't expect to feel this way about it.”

She reached down in her purse, pulling out her rosary, tears still coming down her cheeks as she prayed.

It had been some time since Eric had been to Mass. He couldn't say that he could remember all of the words to the prayer his passenger was saying, but it didn't matter. He pressed the gas down a little more before setting the cruise control as they passed the Maumelle exit, leaving the outskirts of Little Rock.

“I was supposed to work a double shift today,” Melissa finally said after almost two hours of watching cars pass, not sure of what to say or even think.

“I hate to tell you, but you're missing work,” Eric said with a small smile. The sun was already rising and Melissa's 'shift' would be starting soon, without her there. “Take a deep breath and relax, Mel. You did the hardest part.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She'd done the hardest part not once, but twice. The first time, she'd run to New York City away from someone. This time, she was running toward someone – not just anyone. This time she was running toward the someone who had her heart.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The closer they got to Kansas City, the more nervous Melissa got. She shifted in her seat again, looking at her phone and back out the window. She had no idea what she was going to say, or do, or what to even really think. That she was going to be back with Chris; not just him, but the whole group. Would she be accepted, or would they look at her and treat her different for being gone so long?

“If you think any louder, I'll be able to hear the gears turning,” Eric said, glancing over at Melissa when she sighed again. “Take a deep breath and relax. I'm sure they'll be glad to see you. In fact, I know they will.”

“How do you know?” Melissa asked, looking at him. “I mean, it's been a while. I doubt anyone is expecting me to show up.”

“That's the beauty of it,” he said. “The unexpected surprise. How do you think your boyfriend will feel when he sees you? That he doesn't have to worry anymore? That he knows you're safe...”

“I'm not sure if Chris considers himself my boyfriend anymore,” she said softly. “I don't know, I think he'll be surprised. They all will. I shouldn't be so nervous.” Melissa gave him a smile. “It's just the guys, and Addy.” Her hand reached into her purse and she found her rosary and a prayer bead and silently said Hail Mary in her head.

It was silent, save for the radio that was playing softly.

“You might want to call your friend and see where they are so I know what exit to take,” he told her. “Are they having a concert tonight?”

“No concert; they had one last night and again tomorrow. Tonight is Chris's birthday party.” She smiled a little at the thought. “I can guarantee it will have alcohol and cigars, if you want to stay.”

“I might take you up on that, since I'm considering myself officially off-duty after I get you handed off.”

Melissa smirked. “You make me sound like a custody case. Thanks a lot, Detective. Remind me to take you off my tentative Christmas card list, buddy.”

Eric chuckled; he couldn't know since he didn't know her before her return to Little Rock. But as far as he could tell, now that they were only an hour or so outside Kansas City and far away from her old life, the person Melissa had been before she returned was coming back.

“You're getting unruly and mouthy...now I see why Chris was crazy about you,” he told her. “Make your phone call.”

Melissa shook her head and pulled up Addy's number on her phone. She took a deep, audible breath and hit the send button, praying she or Lance would answer.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Can you tell me again why exactly we didn't have these things catered?”

Addy shook her head and looked to her side, where Lance was complaining as he helped ice cupcakes.

“Last October, did we have anything catered?” she asked him.

“Well...no,” he tentatively said.

“Chris has had a hard enough time the past few days, now that the bitch has bitten the dust,” she said, lowering her voice when she negatively referred to Mila. “Melissa's gone, the tour's coming to an end, and now Mila's gone too. I had a hard time even convincing him to come to the party.”

She glanced to her left, where she could just see Chris outside an exit door, where he stood pacing the concrete with a cigar in his mouth.

“I just want things to be somewhat normal,” she said with a sigh. “Mel would've only hired caterers over her own dead body. I'm not going to change that.”

“I just hope he makes it through the night,” Lance said, sharing his wife's sigh. “If he can't make it through the night, he'll never make it through the rest of the tour.”

Without saying a word to her husband, she put her icing tool down and stood up from her chair. The rest of the boys watched her silently as she walked toward the door, opening it and stepping outside the join Chris.

“Hey,” she said.

He looked up briefly at the voice before looking down at the ground under his feet.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“Guests should start arriving soon,” she said. “You're planning on joining us, aren't you?”

“I don't know,” he said, anguish in his voice.

“Please, Chris,” she said, a slight begging in her voice. “Please don't miss out on your own party.”

“It wasn't my idea to have the party,” he said. “I could have gladly forgotten this day.”

“You know she wouldn't want you to--”

“She's not here,” he said, cutting her off mid-sentence. “I know you guys want me to enjoy myself and have fun because it's my birthday, but I feel like...I don't know, like pieces of me are shattered all over the ground and all of you are just telling me to pick myself and put myself back together.”

“I'm sorry, Chris. I know it's not easy.”

“Damn straight it's not easy,” he responded.

“I'm not asking you to have fun, or even be happy,” she said. “But at the very least, can you come in and pretend that it's not a huge pain in your ass?”

She smiled when he looked up at her.

“Even if it is,” she said.

She thought she saw a small smile on his face.

“I'll try,” he said.

Satisfied, she patted him on the back as he stood up and passed her to walk through the door. She was about to follow him as she heard the sound of her phone ringing in her pocket.

She had no idea that answering one phone call would leave her breathless.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Happy birthday to you...happy birthday to you...”

Chris bobbed his head, slightly rolling his eyes as all the guests at his birthday party sang to him as Lance and Justin helped carry out his birthday cake. He was trying to put on a brave face, like Addy had asked him to. He had avoided most of the party guests all night, slipping out every now and then to light a cigar and enjoy a peaceful moment. It was the only time he could take off the fake smile and properly feel sorry for himself like he wanted to.

“Happy birthday, dear Chris...happy birthday to you...”

Lance and Justin set the cake in front of him, the forty-three candles adorning the top lighting the place up like a Christmas tree.

“Overkill, maybe?” he asked his two bandmates as they looked at him.

“Close your eyes and make a wish,” Lance said.

“Really, guys? I mean, really?” Chris asked. “I--”

“Shut up, close your damn eyes, and make a wish, Kirkpatrick,” Justin said.

Chris heard a few random chuckles move through the crowd of people as he huffed and closed his eyes.

As he saw only darkness, he sighed. In his mind, he knew exactly what he was wishing for at that moment.

“Did you make your wish?” he heard Justin ask.

“Yes, but will you actually be gone when I open my eyes,” Chris said, only half-joking.

“Be careful or I'll take back your present back, old man,” Justin said.

Lance, JC, Justin and Joey all struggled to keep their mouths shut and not take in a sharp breath of air or slightly whimper as if they were about ready to cry. Addy had to cover her mouth as she began to cry silently, watching the crowd of guests separate into two sections to allow the woman to walk through the room and toward the front.

Everyone was quiet as she came to stand in front of Chris, his eyes still closed.

“Can I open my eyes now?” Chris asked, oblivious to what was going on around him.

“Not before you make a wish,” Justin said, glancing at Melissa as she stood in front of him, smiling.

“I wish I could open my eyes,” Chris said. “Is that good enough?”

They all glanced at Melissa for a moment, who only nodded.

“Blow out your candles,” Addy said, finally able to speak without her voice cracking.

Chris sucked in a deep breath of air before releasing it in front of him, blowing out every candle quickly. But before he could open his eyes, he detected a presence in front of him – a familiar scent of perfume, one that was all too comforting to him.

He opened his eyes and looked up until his met with hers.

“Happy birthday, Chris,” Melissa said.

Epilogue – You're My Safest Place to Hide

A year later

“Where is he?” JC said, checking his watch. “He's like, ten minutes late.”

“Same old JC,” Lance said with a smile. “These things never start on time, C. Chill.”

“Dude won't even be on time for his own funeral,” JC mumbled, shaking his head and walking away to pace.

Lance just chuckled and patted JC on the back as he walked away. Back in the day, he would have been stressing himself out right along with JC, and he had briefly – but he had become far more relaxed. Ten minutes was nothing compared to everything he had gone through the past few years. He could have thought of ten different disasters that could make this day far worse – if Chris being ten minutes late was the worst thing that happened today, they would be okay.

As they were all enjoying a silent moment they all heard footsteps on the floor coming towards them and just as they turned, hoping it was finally Chris, Liam came running around the corner full-speed.

“Daddy!”

He ran between the group, quickly attaching himself to Lance's leg. As Lance picked him up, they heard the click of high heels coming around the corner. Addy appeared just as JC was about to turn the corner, and they ran into each other. JC nearly lost his balance since he wasn't expecting her, and she reached out to grab him.

“JC! I'm so sorry,” she said. “He shot off and I took off after him but these weapons of mass destruction slow me down. Have I mentioned that I hate high heels?”

“Once or twice,” Justin said.

“Guys, I have bad news,” she said, ignoring Justin, while JC continued to recover. “The ring bearer is losing his nerve. Looks like the one trait he didn't inherit from his father was the entertainment trait.”

They all looked at Liam, snuggled into Lance's chest tightly.

“No,” he said forcefully, and threw the tiny pillow in his hand down to the ground.

“I think that's the kind of temper tantrum that Justin threw once or twice before shows, right guys?” Joey said.

As Lance and JC laughed along with Joey, Justin narrowed his eyes at them.

“Oh ha ha, very funny,” he said. He removed his hands from his pockets and walked over to Lance, reaching out and grabbing Liam from him. “Come on, little dude, let's go have a pep talk. I'll have you ready for this in no time.”

“Do not give him candy,” Addy said, using a finger to point at Justin in warning.

Justin only smiled as he started walking away with the toddler in his arms.

“Justin...Justin!” Addy yelled, starting to follow him, slowed down by her heels. “I mean it! Do not give him candy!”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Breathe in, breathe out...

Melissa repeated the mantra in her head while enacting it physically as she sat in front of the mirror. Her bare shoulders lifted and lowered as she breathed, the skirt of the white dress falling around her in a puddle, covering her and the footstool she sat on. She smoothed it out in front of her, her fingers running over the few diamonds sewn in, scattered across the green gradient in the bottom of the skirt. It was unique to her, not overly done, but just enough to make her feel like a woman should on her wedding day.

It had been a year. Bruises had faded, cuts healed, and her faith in love restored.

A knock came to the door and Melissa turned around, assuming it was Addy coming in to fuss over her and make sure she was ready to start.

“Come in,” she yelled softly.

“Can't,” a familiar voice said from the other side. “It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, remember?”

“Chris! What are you doing?” Melissa asked. “You should be ready by now!”

“I am,” he said, speaking through the door. “I just...I needed to talk to you.”

She stood up and held her train up out of her way as she walked to the door.

“About what?” she asked, leaning against the door.

“I just...wanted to say hi, I guess.”

She smirked. “Hi...I guess,” she said with a small chuckle.

“I also wanted to ask...are you sure you want to marry me?”

Her smile fell. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No,” he said, which was a small relief to her. “I just want to make sure you're not having second thoughts.”

“Why would I have second thoughts?” she asked.

“Open the door,” he said. “Just a crack.”

She turned the door knob slowly, not allowing him to see her, but just enough for him to slip his hand in and take hers, weaving their fingers together.

“I want to marry you,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Believe that with all your heart and soul. I just...I'm scared. I want it to be right.”

“It is right,” she said, squeezing his hand back. “It couldn't be more right, Chris.”

She felt him run his fingers down the palm of her hand reassuringly.

“How about I be the last voice you hear tonight?” she whispered.

“And every other night for the rest of the nights that there are,” he responded.

“That's a good place to start,” she said with a smile.

“How about we go get married, Mel?” he asked.

“I think that's a good idea,” she said. “I love you, Chris.”

“I love you too, Mel.”

THE END