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Oh, crap! The memory of their conversation floods back.
“I can’t stay here!” I gasp, trying to sit up. I moan, clutching my head and swallowing down nausea.
Theo pushes me gently back onto the pillows. “What the hell were you doing? Leaving us?” he asks, his hazel eyes full of confusion.
“Of course, I was leaving!” I huff, feeling tears prick at the back of my eyes.
Tanner’s mouth thins. “Why?”
The hurt in his eyes is palpable. I frown. They’re not acting like they don’t care. They got me here to the hospital, didn’t they? I woke up with them by my side. I didn’t imagine the relief in their eyes when I regained consciousness. Did I read the situation all wrong?
“I—I heard you. In the kitchen, I mean. I came downstairs to find you, to tell you all that—never mind, it doesn’t matter now,” I sigh, closing my eyes wearily.
Noah frowns. “Why didn’t you come in? We were waiting for you to wake up. Had homemade hamburgers all ready for you.”
“Why did you leave?” Tanner asks again, steering the conversation back on course.
“I overheard your conversation. You were talking about me, debating how I got through security. How I appeared out of nowhere. How you planned to confront me, tell me to leave you alone, or you’d get the cops involved. Oh, and that I’m not getting a fucking penny, that I’m not the only one who had a fucked-up childhood.”
They all stare at me with their mouths open.
“I don’t want your fucking money! Keep it! I hope you choke on it because I’m the best thing that ever happened to you! All of you!” I snap, glaring at them. “I gave you everything, My body, my heart, my soul, and you trampled all over them like they meant nothing!”
I finish my tirade, chest heaving, proud at having delivered a piece of my mind. My throat aches with the effort of holding back tears, but I’m done with putting everyone else first.
Noah speaks first. “Can you rewind a little?”
I look at him blankly. “What?”
“To the part about giving us your heart,” he replies.
“I—I—” My mouth snaps shut.
“You love us!” Theo announces.
“I never—”
“We’re in love with you, too,” Tanner says quietly, his blue eyes deadly serious.
“But—I—You said—”
“We weren’t talking about you, Slugger,” Theo says softly. “We were talking about a woman who’s been stalking us for the last three years.”
It’s my turn to gape at them. “What?”
Noah nods. “She got through security at one of our gigs. Made it into our dressing room. She said she was in love with all of us and that if we didn’t love her back, she’d kill herself. The police wanted to arrest her, but we asked them not to press charges. It was obvious she had mental health issues. We asked our management company to arrange counseling for her, but I guess it never happened.”
“Would this be the same management company that I submitted my lyrics to? The one that the other artist sued?” I ask.
Tanner nods. “It was. Turns out, they never reached out to help her. She tried to break into our hotel room when we were touring in Germany last year. Then she started asking for money. She said she had pictures of us in compromising situations that she’d leak to the press if we didn’t pay up.”
“That’s what you were talking about when you said she wouldn’t get a penny,” I whisper.
Theo nods. “We reached out to her again, offered to get her help, but she wasn’t interested. She doesn’t have anything on us. I’m not saying we’ve been angels, well, apart from Noah,” he says with a grin, “but we’ve always been discreet, and it’s always been consensual. We made a deal with each other that we wouldn’t get caught up in the sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll scene. Not after what we went through as kids.”
I nod. “I know. You’re good guys. All of you. You’ve made something of yourselves, done so much good with your money.”
“I’m sorry you overheard that conversation. I can imagine how it must’ve sounded,” Tanner says with a grimace. “But the truth is, Maggie, we’re all fucking crazy about you. We’ve been talking about ways to keep you with us, stop you from going back to Maryland. We’ve never met anyone like you. You’re amazing. Kind, loving, generous, strong. Your self-esteem could do with a little work, but we plan to spend the next sixty-odd years telling you how beautiful you are. That’s if you’ll have us. If it’s what you want, too?”
The tears I’ve been holding in check suddenly break loose, pouring down my cheeks. I don’t just cry—I ugly cry, complete with snot and possibly a little drool. But my men don’t care. I’m gathered up in strong arms, wrapped in their love. And they do love me. I can feel it in their tender touch, their soothing words. Just the fact that they’re here with me, taking care of me, is proof of their feelings.
I’m not perfect, and neither are they, but when the four of us are together like this, it feels like we’re pretty damn close to perfect.
