Page 60 of Once Upon a Boyband
She rolls her eyes and motions toward the mountains behind the barn. “Out there somewhere, probably. This is what he does when he needs to think. And I guess he and Freddie got into it this afternoon, so he clearly had some stuff to think about.”
“You’re not concerned that it’s basically dark?” I say, looking over her shoulder into the late evening light.
“Nah. He knows these mountains. If he isn’t home in another couple hours, I might start to worry, but I’m not worried yet.”
Once she’s gone, the other dogs settle down and the barn is quiet, filled only with sleepy snorts and snuffles. There isn’t much I can do but watch and wait, so I pull out my phone and use my Kindle app to read, periodically checking on Taylor’s progress.
It’s hard to focus, though, because my brain keeps going back to whatever happened with Freddie and Adam thisafternoon. They seemed good when they stopped by the office. What happened after?
Maybe they finally talked about the concert and saying no didn’t go quite as well as Adam hoped? A low ache forms right between my ribs. I rub at the spot, but I don’t think it’s going to go anywhere until I know Adam is okay.
An hour later, Taylor delivers her fourth and final puppy. She handled the delivery like a pro and probably would have been fine on her own, but I’m not sorry I was here for it. I’ll never get tired of attending deliveries—especially the ones when everything goes well.
I’m just standing up and closing the door of Taylor’s enclosure when the barn door slides open and Adam steps inside.
Wherever he’s been, he looks like he’s been through something.
He’s visibly sweaty, there’s a rip on the sleeve of his shirt, and he has a smudge of dirt across his forehead. Tiny red scratches cover his forearms and the tops of his hands. He looks like someone dropped him in the middle of a briar patch and made him crawl a mile to safety.
“I saw your car. Is everything okay? Is Taylor okay?” Adam asks.
“She’s fine,” I say. “Sarah called me because she was concerned, but everything went great.”
His eyes widen the slightest bit. “It’s over?”
“She just had the last one not ten minutes ago.” I look down at the smallest of the litter, squirming under its mother’s dutiful ministrations. “They’re beautiful puppies.”
He wipes his sleeve across his forehead and walks over, stopping beside me to look down at the new litter. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for it.”
He’s close enough now that I can see a scratch down the side of his cheek. I hesitate a beat before asking, “Adam, where have you been? Are you okay?”
He breathes out a sigh and lifts his hands to his head, then pulls them away and looks at them. “I lost my hat,” he says.
The totally random comment makes me worry he’s still a little out of it. Not quite in shock, but a little dazed? I mean, the man does seem to love his hats, but considering his current condition, I’m not sure he should be worried about it now.
There’s a gash down the underside of his left arm that I didn’t see before, this one deeper and bloodier than the smaller scratches on the top.
“Whoa,” I say, stepping toward him. “That looks really deep.”
Adam looks at his arm like he didn’t even realize the injury was there. I glance back at the puppies. Three are already nursing, and Taylor is nudging the fourth one into position, nuzzling and licking it gently. Feeling like Taylor’s got things under control, I reach for Adam’s arm. “Can I take a look?”
Adam nods and lets me lead him toward the supply room at the front of the barn. I familiarized myself with everything on the shelves when I first showed up, wanting to know what my resources were should anything go wrong with Taylor’s delivery. I can’t do much with what’s here, but I can at least clean him up a little.
He drops onto a stool, and I grab a clean rag off the shelf, crossing to the sink at the grooming station to get it wet. When I return, Adam is a picture of defeat, his shoulders slumped, his expression dejected.
I reach for his arm, and he lets me take it, flinching the slightest bit when I press the warm rag to his skin. “Did you get lost?” I ask as I wipe the dirt and debris away from the wound.
He lets out a grunt. “Something like that.”
I work in silence a few minutes more, cleaning up his arms, making sure he’s only dealing with superficial wounds. I’m doing a crap job, honestly. He needs a shower and an antiseptic wash and some butterfly bandages to close the largest cut, but this is better than nothing.
Adam lifts a hand to the curve of my waist. With how he’s sitting on a stool and I’m standing in front of him, his head is about eye level with my ribs, and he leans forward the slightest bit, resting his head on my side, his fingertips pressing into the exposed skin at the top of my leggings.
A flutter of emotions spread through my chest and out to my fingertips, making me tingle all over.
This man.
How does he make me feel so much?
