Page 45 of Cadence
“I doubt I had anything to do with it,” I mumble with a small laugh, trying not to let my eyes find Maddox again, but they do.
He’s still facing away, reading to himself like we don’t exist, and for this wild second, I imagine him looking over, holding my gaze the way he did when we were in the dressing room, like he wanted to sear every inch of me into his memory.
He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Paige,” Thea says gently, before giving me a look I can’t place. “Actually, while I’ve got you, can I have a word?”
Finally, Maddox shifts, just a flick of his eyes to mine. But there’s something there, something desperate and urgent and far too intense for an early morning meeting.
“Maddox?” Thea adds, his focus redirecting to her. “You, too.”
“Ooo, someone’s in trouble,” Eli sing-songs, right before releasing anoomphas Beau elbows him in the stomach.
A chill runs down my spine as Thea turns toward the hallway. She doesn’t check if we’ll follow; she knows we will. Outside, she opens the control room door, holding it wide. Maddox steps through first, silent and rigid, making a beeline for the far wall like distance alone might fix this.
“Could you give us a minute?” Thea asks the sound tech, who nods and slips out, shutting the door behind him.
Immediately, it’s too small, the soft whir of the monitors drowned out by the weight of what’s been sealed in with us. I fold my arms tightly around me, deliberately keeping a careful distance from Maddox while my body becomes hyperaware of every inch of space separating us.Seriously? When the hell did that start happening?
Thea leans back on the desk, arms crossed, and I focus on the full-width window behind her, where Beau and Eli aredefinitelypretending not to stare through the glass.
“I’ll make this quick,” she says. “This tour is a big deal. I’m not going to let it fall apart before we even pack a bag.” Her eyes cut between us. “So let me ask you both…” She pauses, that split second deafening. “Is there going to be a problem?”
“No,” Maddox says, his voice tight with control he’s barely holding on to. “Why would you even ask that?”
I feel the moment he turns to look at me like a jolt to the chest, unease prickling the air like static, but I don’t turn, trying not to react.
Thea looks at me, too, waiting for my answer, and I shake my head. “I’m a little confused.”
“Eli doesn’t talk at a normal decibel like everyone else,” she deadpans, exhaling slowly, palms flattening on the desk behind her. “I overheard Beau and Eli talking about what happened on stage when I came back to see you guys the other night.”
“You were there?” I ask, chills sneaking down my spine.
She nods, waving off my dread with a flick of her hand. “Look, I don’t need the details. I don’t care who started it; I just need confirmation that it’s over, okay?”
I stare down at my feet, and for a second, I feel like a child again.
“I’ve seen bands crash and burn over personal bullshit.” She continues, the edge in her tone undeniable. “Not happening here. Understood?”
I nod as Maddox mutters, “Yes.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the way his arms fold across his chest, the hardness now in his jaw, his gaze locked on a spot somewhere above Thea’s head. Every breath feels tighter, the space closing in, thick with something unspoken, like the charge in the air before a storm.
And if Thea notices, she doesn’t say anything, holding our silence for a beat longer, then taps her knuckles once against the desk and heads for the door. The sound of her heels echoes like a countdown, a warning siren neither of us need.
“We leave in a week,” she says over her shoulder, her soft smile back in place. “You better be ready, because I’ve got a feeling this tour is going to change your lives.”
The door clicks closed behind her, and I finally let myself breathe.
After a morning of dodging eye contact, now we’re locked in here like I didn’t spend all weekend trying to forget how close we came to crossing a line.
“Well, that was humiliating.”
Maddox doesn’t say anything, his eyes on the closed door like it might open again and save him from this. From me. Then, slowly, he tilts his head to the side, a sharp crack breaking the silence as he rolls his neck, like he needs to break the tension inside him before it detonates.
“Nothing to say? Seriously?” I step around to where Thea stood just moments ago, glaring up at him. “We basically got told off by Mommy for not playing nice, and you don’t even care, do you?”
Still nothing. Just the kind of silence that’s long and loaded and entirely too frustrating that it builds behind your ribs and makes your teeth grind.
