Do You Still Love Me Like You Used To?

Part 8

Tommy ran through the backyard and up the stairs to Paul's bedroom, jiggling the handle and finding the door lock. Letting out a groan, he started knocking loudly on the door, hoping to wake the singer up and not the rest of the handle. The guitarist heard murmurs from inside the bedroom, then shuffling feet. Tommy willing to take whatever ass-chewing Paul or Erin may have in store for him, as long as they would help him.

"Tommy? Is everything okay?" Erin asked, opening the door just a crack.

Tommy heard Paul letting out a groan, giving a clear sign that the older man had been able to sweet talk his way out of trouble. Now, for a second time, Tommy's troubles were going to ruin the singer's chances of getting laid. Trying to not chuckle, the younger man ran a hand down his face, trying to bring his focus back to why he had to bother Paul again.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need the old man's help. It's Y/N." Tommy explained.

"Oh god, Thayer, just come in. I've suddenly got all the time in the world now," Paul yelled.

Erin smiled at the guitarist and held the door open, revealing his pissed-off bandmate. Tommy held his hands up and took a seat in the chair in the room. Paul looked over at Erin and shrugged his shoulders, not sure what was going on, as they watched Tommy fidget in his seat. Clapping his hands together and looking at both of them, finding the words to say.

"I talked to Y/N," Tommy started.

"Nope, Nope, Nope, You're keeping your ass here," Paul snapped.

"I didn't have to come up here and talk to you. I could have just taken off leaving you to your stupid meeting," Tommy replied.

"I was in the middle of my apology to my hot wife, and you have to come in to tell me that 'oh we apologized to each other, so I'm going to go running back," Paul told him.

"Fine, fuck you, and I'm sorry, Erin, for any mediocre apology he was trying to give you. It didn't sound too impressive." The guitarist replied, storming out of the room.

"We were just getting started!" The singer yelled after him.

Tommy continued toward the stairs, hearing the couple arguing back and forth with each other. Shaking his head, the guitarist jogged down to the bottom step, hearing someone coming to the top of the staircase. Tommy looked up, seeing his bandmate glaring down at him, attempting to tighten his belt. The guitarist waved him off and continued to the guest house, feeling Paul hot on his heels. Halfway past the pool, Tommy found himself face down on the ground with the singer on top of him. Paul rolled off of him and held his hand out to help the younger man up.

"Why do you have to be so over the top with things? You couldn't have just said, hey, stop. I'm sorry," Tommy asked.

"I told you to stop. What do you want me to scream at you with a house full of kids under the age of six? Yeah, not happening. Now, tell me this plan of yours, how did it go from her never wanting to see you again to now you gotta go," Paul asked, walking toward the guest house.

"Her words were it's great having Tara and Eric there, but she would appreciate if I came out there for support. Plus, work on all of this face to face instead of 3,000 miles away. Y/N dad's dead, and she wants her partner there. Put yourself in my shoes, Paul," the guitarist told him.

---------------------------------------------------------------

(Reader POV)

Next Morning

The light of your room was flipped on, making you groan out and pull the covers up over your head. It had only been a few hours since you had gone to bed after trying to figure out how to cover the cost of the funeral. The shock of never being able to see your father again was still something you couldn't process. Tommy had spent hours on the phone listening to you, and you had spent most of the time at the dining room table wondering if he would actually stick to his word. Just as you attempted to drift off to sleep, the covers were ripped off you, and your best friend was looking at you.

"Goddamn it, Tara, why do you have to be annoying when you wake someone up?" You asked, sitting up.

"Uh oh, someone is in a foul mood. Get up. We have errands to run, and it would be best to do it before Eric is up." Tara told you.

"I don't want to deal with any of that today, Tara. It was an awful night trying to figure out the funeral and talking to Tommy. We can do it tomorrow. Now give me the blanket and shut that fucking light off," you snapped.

"The conversation was bad with Tommy? We can talk about it in the car. You got ten minutes to get ready and be in the car, or I'm coming back with a bucket of ice water." She replied, walking toward the door.

You scrambled out of bed at the thought of her dumping cold water on you. It was a trick both of your parents had used on you since high school. Shaking your head, you headed toward your suitcase, grabbing clothes and running toward the bathroom. Cranking the water to the hottest temperature, you let it spray down your body as you thought about the situation with Tommy. You had told Paul to keep the guitarist away from you, but then you had turned around and asked Tommy to come to Oklahoma. Even if you couldn't admit it, the man had made you the happiest you could ever remember in the last six years. The worst problem of it was would you be able to keep him feeling the same way.

The sound of yelling in the house and a familiar voice made your heart drop. You finished washing the shampoo and soap off of you. Wrapping your hair in a bath towel and throwing on the clothes lying on the counter, you ran out the door, seeing Eric attempting to hold Tara back. Your skin crawled at the sight of the person standing in the door frame laughing at your best friend until his eyes met yours. He moved closer into the room, making you back up.

"What are you doing here, Kevin?" you asked.