Me: Everett was straight before he met Morgan.
Trevor responded almost immediately.
Trevor: OH! HA! That's brilliant. Okay. It's going on the list.
Trevor: By the way, we should be there about a week before the wedding, so it'll give us some rehearsal time. Everett said we can set up in their event room since it won't be in use leading up to the day.
Me: Oh perfect! Okay. Awesome.
Trevor: So plan for time off work now!
Me: I'm sort of already not working. Long story.
Adam fidgeted as he sent the message.Fuck. He missed his job. But he knew he wasn't ready to go begging to have it back. Even with the distraction of chatting with Trevor, he felt the itch to go have a drink. Besides, they'd probably already hired someone in his place.
Shit. Speaking of that. Adam fired off another message.
Me: Your singer really doesn't mind me stepping in?
Trevor: Nope. He said he'd either come along and you guys can alternate songs, or he'll just take the week off and go home to visit family.
Adam frowned in thought, nodding his head to the beat of the music still playing. He didn't mind sharing the spotlight. He could do backup vocals just fine, if need be. And it would be nice to dance with John, which he wouldn't be able to do if he was up on stage the whole night.
Me: Tell him I'm fine either way. :D But there will be certain songs that HAVE to be mine.
Trevor: HAHA Got it. Will do!
Adam waited, hoping Trevor might send through another message. Maybe even a definitive answer about their singer. But when several minutes passed and his music continued playing, uninterrupted by notifications, Adam let out a sigh and trudged back off to the third bedroom.
He stopped in the doorway and groaned.Fuck. What a mess.Adam had no idea where to start next. He'd moved things about so haphazardly to dig out those file boxes, the room now looked like some chaotic game of Tetris and Jenga all mashed into one.
Somehow, he was going to have to at least separate the boxes from the furniture, but he didn't have the space in that bedroom to do so. Adam strode down the hallway to Haven's old room. He paused in the doorway, looking around, assessing each thing he saw. After a moment, he stepped inside the room and slowly walked through it, putting his hands on everything he passed, waiting to see if he got that gut-punch feeling.
But none of the items there held any sentimental value, beyond having had them for nearly his entire life. All the furniture—the bed, nightstands, lamps, and dresser—had come from the guest room of the Idaho house, which he'd hardly ever had reason to set foot in. Adam stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, as he slowly turned in a circle. He took a deep breath, then nodded. All of this could easily go.
And in the meantime, he could use this room to get himself organized. Adam dragged the nightstands over beside thedresser, then strained to shove the bed into the corner, leaving one whole side of the room completely empty.
Then he went back to the third bedroom, grabbed the first box he came to, and opened it.
Adam felt a shiver run down his spine as he put his hands on his dad's old clothes.Fuck. He grabbed a shirt and held it up. Adam frowned. It was weird to think his dad had once worn this. That it used to encase a living, breathing body. Now it was just a piece of fabric.
He unpacked the whole box, making even more of a mess all around himself, then shook his head and folded everything right back in. A faint, queasy feeling tugged at his stomach. Like getting rid of Dad's clothes meant getting rid of the man himself. But then he thought of Haven's room. Of the furniture in there that had been put to use for someone's benefit, rather than sitting in storage and collecting dust. Dad would love to know that his clothes had gone to someone in need.
Adam carried the box out to the dining room and added it to the stack.
He spent the rest of the day, slowly going through each box in the third bedroom. Adam took a break at lunch time, but then dove right back in, playing song after song and belting out the lyrics as he worked, still feeling a need to expel all that tension and noise in his head.
Adam found the rest of his dad's clothes and added them to the donation stacks. Then he found Dad's record player. It stung a little to let go of that, as well as the box of records themselves, but what use were those records, sitting in boxes, when someone could be enjoying them instead?
He added them to the stacks and slowly stepped back, waiting to see how he felt. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't devastating, either. Adam blew out a heavy breath and went back to the room.
Over the sound of his music, Adam heard John's voice, calling his name.
“Back here!” Adam yelled just as he spotted a box with no label to indicate what it contained. Adam dragged it out from behind a small end table.
“You've been busy,” John said.
Adam turned around to see the man standing in the doorway. “Yeah.” He paused, studying John's eyes. “How was your day?”
