Chapter 17: Nice Guys Pray. No, Really.

Adam

By the time we get back to the hotel, it's around 4am. Mac and I walk into the lobby hand and hand. I probably look exactly like what I am..a partied out, sexed up rock star—bare-chested with boot-cut jeans and Mac's boots tied together over my shoulder. Mac looks cute as hell, barefoot and drowning in my gray button down that is longer than her shorts.

When the elevator doors open, Trace is on the other side. His hair is wet and mussed, his eyes are horror-filled and his face is absolutely gray. He takes one look at us and reaches for Mac, pulling her quickly into an enclave across from the elevators. I step in close, blocking the two of them from view with my back, but incognito is hardly necessary. There's no one in the lobby at 4am.

I can tell something is bad wrong. The way Trace has latched onto Mac...god, please not...

Mac is thinking the same thing. She pulls back, her voice panicked, "Where's Leed?"

"He's fine," Trace says quickly. "It's Ashlynn. Car accident. She's at a hospital in Tennessee, near Nashville. I don't know anything...they said she's out cold. They don't know what she's on, if she has more head trauma, maybe internal injuries..."

Mac wraps her hand around Trace's wrist. "You have to go to her," she says firmly, and Trace nods, although he glances at me, and I see the conflict in his face. It's killing him to leave Kat. I wonder if she knows.

"Riley's getting me a flight...I can probably just make the gate..."

Mac's mind is at work better than mine right now. "Adam, your dad—he's probably good in these kinds of situations, right?"

Smart thinking, Shortcake. I get my dad on the phone and Trace gives the 411—Ashlynn's info, the hospital. My dad promises he can be there in an hour and half—a good four hours ahead of Trace.

"What else?" I ask Trace grimly.

Trace closes his eyes, like he's in pain. He sways slightly. "After you guys left the club, everything got more fucked up. Kat is rollin' right now, and I...I...she accidentally found out that Ashlynn and I are married.She's freaking out, and she doesn't want me around. Ben's with her. She doesn't know that Ashlynn's hurt. She doesn't know I have to go. I don't know what to do...if I should see if she'll let me back in the suite...and explain...Christ...motherfucking shit!" He turns away from us and paces a few feet away, clearly trying to get a grip on himself.

Mac, always the only one unafraid to push up on Trace in a temper, wraps her arms around him. He plants his chin on the top of head. "Macaroni, I've fucked it all up," he whispers hoarsely.

"Yeah, but you'll fix it," she soothes. "You have to go to Ash, Trace. We'll be there for Kat, in the morning. All of us. Me, Adam, Leed, Riley, Bodie if we can find him—we'll be there. She won't be any happier with us than she is with you, but she's family and we'll be there."

Trace gulps and his voice is a little shaky when he says. "Thanks, Mac. I can always count on you. Love you, girl."

Then Mac loses it completely. "Trace, I love you so much, too! I'm sorry I've been such a bitch since Kat got here. I feel so bad for you. I know you love Kat, and I know you care about Ashlynn so much,and I know how horrible and helpless you must feel right now, and oh god...I'm so fucking sorry...poor Ashlynn!...poor Kat!...oh TG, I'm so sorry!"

He looks down at her like she's a stranger. "What the hell?" he mouths to me.

I shrug. "Yeeaaaahhhh, she's kind of...gotten in touch with her feelings tonight." I mutter, but Mac ignores me because she's still sobbing. "Poor Ashlynn, poor Kat! Fucking hell!"

"Jesus, please don't you cry, Macaroni..." Now Trace looks like he might lose it, as he pats her back and rocks her. He gives me another wild look. "Maybe-baby?" he mouths in bewilderment.

I shrug. Who the fuck knows? Is it pregnancy or just the thought of it causing Mac's emotional cup to floweth over? Either way, when it comes to her epiphany about her feelings for me, I'll take it. But she's maybe not helping Trace so much right now...

"Okay, okay, break it up before you sent the man into a spiral," I pull her off him and against me. He looks relieved and after a swift clap on my back and a promise to call as he soon as he has news, Trace is out.

When we get up to my suite, thoughts of round two have clearly been called off by our worries for Ashlynn. Mac especially. They are friends, and Mac is distraught. She sits on the couch, her knees drawn up to her chin as I make her some tea in the Keurig.

She accepts it with a beautiful but sad smile and reaches out her hand to me. I sit down beside her. This is new territory. A sad or upset Mac usually most closely resembles a porcupine, not this vulnerable girl leaning her head on my shoulder.

"I want to help Ashlynn, but we can't do a single damn thing," she says, wiping her tears. "All our resources, and I feel so...powerless."

I bite my lip. She's right, there's nothing practical we can do. There is one other thing, one thing I was raised to do, in situations like this. I don't know how much it really works, but I know from personal experience it at least helps to relieve hurt and worry.

"Do you maybe want to...pray for Ashlynn?" I say hesitantly.

Mac blinks at me. "Pray? You mean like...to God?"

I shrug, "Or the Universe, or whatever. It can't hurt, it maybe helps. At least, you are spending your energy in a positive way, and not on feeling powerless."

Mac is biting her lip, considering, as she sips the tea. "I...I never thought of it that way. I've never really...prayed before."

"Well...uh...I can...if you want to...I mean."

I feel weird—very weird—for even suggesting this. It's been awhile since I hit God up for anything. Ok, maybe occasionally I utter a quick prayer of thanks—for a safely born niece or nephew, for another healthy birthday or anniversary in my family, but that hardly makes me a praying kind of guy anymore. I am much more likely to profane than pray, since about fifteen. Still, it's not that hard...it's just...a little hard to start.

Mac is looking at me with wide, uncomfortable eyes, but she slides to her knees, putting her tea on the table. She nods determinedly, straightens up like someone shoved a ramrod up her butt, puts her hands together formally, and bows her head. She looks adorable and ridiculous. I put my hand over my mouth, trying so fucking hard not to laugh.

She opens one eye and sees me shaking on the sofa in silent laughter. She slaps me on the leg. "Goddammit are you laughing at me? Shit, sorry," she mutters, frowning at the ceiling. "See what you made me do?" she yells at me, pointing at her potty mouth and slapping me again as I laugh more.

"Sorry, you just look so fucking cute. Here," I sit cross-legged on the floor in front of her and reach out my hands to her. She swings her legs around and mimics me, putting her hands a little hesitantly in mine. I smile at her and nod, bowing my head, watching her through my half closed eyes for a second as she follows suit.

After an initial panic where I try to think of something lyrical and new-agey to speak to Mac, and draw a complete blank, the  old familiar phrases of my childhood come to mind, so I just go with my comfort zone

"Dear God, we lift up our friend Ashlynn to you. Please be with her tonight. We ask you send her healing. We ask you to guide the hands and minds of the doctors and people that are taking care of her. We ask you to be with her loved ones, that they can share their strength and care with her. Please lend Trace a little peace, Lord, cause he's in a bad way right now. " I hesitate, and rub Mac's hands with my thumbs, "I'm gonna spend a silent minute or two, sending more prayer, energy, whatever," I murmur. She squeezes my hands in agreement.

We sit silently, peacefully. I pray a little more for Ash, Trace, and Kat, but mostly I pray for Mac. I pray that she can learn to see herself like I do—as a good person with a strong will that she can use in whatever way she wants. I pray that her heart stays open, no matter what happens with the maybe baby. I pray she learns to lead from love, not fear.

"All these things we ask in your name...Amen." I finish.

When I look up at Mac, she's looking down at our joined hands. I was half-expecting to see tears again, but she's calm, thoughtful. She knee walks towards me and takes my head in her hands, kissing my forehead. "You are so strange, Preacher," she murmurs. "And so wonderful."

Strange? Probably. Wonderful? I don't know about that.

Wonderful is following her to the bedroom, watching her crawl over the large bed on her hands and knees in my shirt, slide beneath the covers and say with a yawn, "Hurry, baby, I'm cold."

"I asked the Universe to send Ashlynn an angel," she murmurs, as we lay in the dark, wrapped in each other's arms. "And I thanked the Universe for you."

"Hmmmm...we both have a lot to be thankful for," I agree. "Especially this," I find her jaw and guide her mouth to mine.

In the near-dawn, I say one more silent prayer.

Please God...when it gets hard—and I figure at some point it will, because this is Mac we are talking about, here—help me remember the way we feel tonight.

Ha! So here we see a side of Adam that he rarely shows in the Soundcrush Circle. Mac is not the only one feeling open and vulnerable with all of the recent events in their relationship, I guess. What do you think of Adam's prayers? Is it surprising or not that Mac was open to his idea of praying? I can't wait to hear what you think of this chapter, because I think usually creative people are often pretty spiritually aware/open, but we don't usually think of rock stars as being "spiritual" Thoughts? Hit me back!

Please comment/vote/list/follow. It means so much to me to see you guys engaging, because I spend so much time and love on these little stories! Thanks!