by Megan Ryder
Though she doubted she had a chance.
She walked out onto the back deck and found him sitting on one of those ridiculously uncomfortable chairs, staring at the river winding past her backyard. He was bent forward, his arms loosely clasped in front of him. He appeared loose and relaxed but as she got closer, she could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his muscles were clenched in his jaw, and she desperately wanted to brush away the cares, but since she was the one who put them there, she didn’t think he’d welcome her touch. Not now, maybe not ever again.
He didn’t move though he had to have heard the sliding glass door. She dragged the white metal chair a few feet until it was almost next to him and sat in it, their knees only inches apart though it felt like miles. This had been the nature of their relationship since they had left Montana and come to Nashville. Even lying in bed, after making love, there had been a distance that the intimacy of sex hadn’t been able to overcome. Had they been fooling themselves? Had the reality of her life driven a wedge between them, a wedge that would become a chasm to forever force them apart?
“You’re leaving?” She stated the obvious, not really knowing what else to say, how else to start the conversation.
“I think it’s time. Past time, really. I don’t belong here. I never did.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “You never tried. You’ve been here two weeks, if that, and all you did was criticize and complain about everything. You were handed the opportunity of a lifetime and bitched about it.”
He turned an incredulous look at her. “You’re kidding, right? I have spent the past week being lectured on how to walk, talk, and act—like I’m a two-year-old. Your little cheerleader assistant decided to instruct me on how to dress appropriately, because my jeans weren’t the right label, my boots were too old, and my shirt wasn’t the right style. The clothes she gave me weren’t that much different, only cost a lot more.”
She sighed. “They only wanted to help get you ready for the stage. Sponsors pay money for us to wear their clothes. And you needed some new things.”
He shot her a dirty look. “The new jeans looked the same as my old ones. But that wasn’t the worst part. They had to tell me how to talk because apparently people from the backwoods of Montana don’t know how to speak right or answer questions.”
“Well, maybe if you had listened to them, we wouldn’t have had to run interference with Chelsea.” The minute the statement was out of her mouth, she knew she had misstepped badly and wished she could take it back. “Ty, I didn’t mean it.”
He froze, his eyes cold and dark, distant and unforgiving. “Then you shouldn’t have said it. See, that’s something we backcountry people know. You don’t say what you don’t mean.”
“Ty, I only meant that everyone was trying to help. We know how interviews can go and we wanted to advise you, so it wouldn’t…”
“Be a complete and total clusterfuck? Maybe we shouldn’t have done it in the first place. That’s not why I came here. But then again, why I came here and why you brought me here seem to be two completely different things, don’t they, Piper?”
The nasty tone, the deliberately hurtful words sliced at her like knives, and she winced as they found their target. “This wasn’t my intention, Ty. You’re here because you have talent and I wanted to see you get a chance.”
“But no one cares about that. I’m here to really help—” his voice shifted to a deep announcer-like tone “—the great Piper Raines and her career, the career that was on the downswing after her latest album and tour tanked.” He returned to his normal voice, though the scorn was still dripping from every word. “Is that what you do? Find new bands and talent and lure them here to help you and your brother, to boost your own careers? Then cut them loose when they’re no longer of use or won’t play your game?”
She straightened in her chair, blood rushing in her ears as his words sunk in. “I can’t believe you would think I would do something like that. Do you honestly think I could do that?”
He heaved a sigh and stared back out over the lawn that sloped gently down to the line of trees and water just beyond. “I don’t know what to think anymore, Piper. A week ago, I’d have said no. But now, dammit, things are so messed up.” He stood and walked a few steps away, leaning against the wrought-iron railing and running his hand through his hair. “This isn’t what I signed up for.”
The anger drained out of her, leaving a bone-deep tiredness and sadness. She got up and walked over to him, laying a hand on his back, feeling his muscles jump under her fingers. “I know, Ty. The reality of the music business is so much different than what people think it is. Can you give us a chance? I’ll talk to Darren, talk to everyone and get them to back off. We’ll work something out.”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t belong here, Piper. This isn’t what I want. Not for me, not for my music. I’m a simple country boy. I like working the ranch, wearing casual clothes, saying what I mean, and singing at the local bar on weekends. I don’t want to play some game where I wear what people tell me to, say stuff I don’t mean, and have to watch everyone to see if someone is going to screw me over.”
“It’s not like that everywhere, Ty. Really.” She could feel him slipping away, every minute drifting further and further away. “What happens now?”
“I go home and we go our separate ways. But I’m not giving up that song, not to you, not to anyone. It’s not mine to give up. It belongs to Tara and West. You tell Darren to read that contract again. He’ll find that I didn’t sign it yet and he can’t take it. And if he tries to take that song, saying it’s partially yours, well, he’ll find us country boys may be slow but we ain’t stupid.”
She shook her head, surprised to find tears staining her cheeks. “I won’t let him take it, Ty. I promise.”
He tenderly wiped a tear from her face. “I’m sorry, Piper. I shouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t have started anything with you. This was never meant to be. Be happy.”
He kissed her on the forehead and walked away.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ty rode along the fence, checking how the posts had fared in the long winter. A thankless task and a boring-as-fuck job, but it suited him right about now. The herd wouldn’t be this close to the house for several weeks yet, so it was the perfect time to fix the line and be alone, not run into anyone and risk inflicting his bad attitude on an undeserving soul. In fact, he’d considered camping out for a few days, but he didn’t feel like staying in a tent and the cabins reminded him of Piper and their first night together.
Dundee raced around him, barking then running ahead but not too far. He hadn’t let Ty out of sight in the couple of days since he’d been home, clearly having missed him in the two weeks he’d been away and wasn’t letting Ty take off without his furry companion again. Hell, he’d even woken up with the dog plastered against his back the previous night. He’d thought for a minute, when he’d felt the warm presence, that maybe it was Piper. In the weird half-awake moments, between sleep and awake, he had only felt the body pressed against him, like she used to. Once he shifted, Dundee jumped up and licked his face, shattering the moment. Yeah, Piper never did that to him.
Of course, Dundee never used him and betrayed him either, but hey, Dundee was only a few years old. Give him time. He did love A.J. Maybe he’d reject Ty for the young boy someday.
He dismounted to check one of the posts that was listing. Calypso grazed nearby and Dundee dozed in the sun while Ty worked. Suddenly, Dundee lifted his head and barked once, then jumped up and raced off. Ty shaded his eyes and saw two riders easily loping toward him. Dammit. He knew he shouldn’t have told anyone where he was going. Made it too easy for his brothers to finally track him down.
He resumed working while they pulled up, observing him quietly for several minutes.
“The fence didn’t fare too badly this winter,” West commented.
“Didn’t have too much to repair, not yet at least,” Ty replied. “Tara se
nd you?”
West and Chase dismounted. “You’re lucky she didn’t come with us. She wanted to, but we told her we were headed to the herd.”
Ty snorted. “You lied to her.”
West shrugged. “A misdirection. She’ll let it lie as long as we talk to you. But I don’t think we can stop her from showing up at your cabin, unless you come to dinner tonight. She misses you and feels terrible about whatever the hell happened between you and Piper. She blames herself.”
Ty stopped hammering and straightened, tilting his hat back. “Why the hell would she think that?”
Chase shrugged and handed him a bottle of water. “Why do women think the way they do? Who knows? Hailey wants to talk to you too, but she won’t tell me why. Something business-related. Said she can’t tell me. Some client thing. We’re brothers. She can tell me. But whatever.”
“It’s not important, not anymore. I just need some time. I’ll see them this weekend.” Ty took a long drink, but water wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. “You got anything stronger?”
Chase grinned. “Are you kidding? Just wanted to be sure you were hydrated, little brother.” He pulled out a six-pack and some sandwiches.
A few minutes later, they were sitting around, eating and drinking beer, not saying much but Ty knew that was just a matter of time. His brothers had given him a little bit of rope, but they weren’t known for being patient with each other. At least they’d left the true interrogators at home. Their wives. He wouldn’t have stood a chance against them.
“You going to play this weekend at The Rock?” Chase spoke casually but there was so much unspoken in the statement. “Zane misses you.”
Ty snorted. “Zane misses the money he gets from when I play.”
“True. But honestly, where else does everyone go on a Saturday night? Not too many options to blow off steam around Granite Junction. With you and the band gone, the music is basically the jukebox. Not the best backup.”
Ty shook his head, staring in the distance. “I’m not ready. I don’t feel like playing.”
“You going to tell us what happened in Nashville?” West said. “Because right now, Tara is imagining the worst and trust me, you do not want her doing that. She then goes on the warpath and will call Piper and things will be said.” He gave a mock shudder.
Ty looked at him. “Leave Piper out of this. I just didn’t belong there. It wasn’t for me.”
“Bullshit,” West stated flatly. “You can belong anywhere you damn well put your mind to.”
Ty grunted. “You don’t get it. You’ve been out of Montana twice, except to other ranches, right? Well, let me tell what it was like in Nashville. People everywhere, telling you what to say, do, and wear. Criticizing everything about you. Nothing was ever good enough. And my music? Yeah, nothing special. I bared my soul and they wanted to exploit it.”
West and Chase exchanged glances, then Chase replied, “Wasn’t that the point? I mean, when you record your music, you’re trying to make money from it. So yeah they’re going to take it and make it the best they can.”
“But it wasn’t for me. It was for Piper. They were using me to boost her career. If I got something out of it, okay, but the bottom line was to help her.” He faced them. “They used my family against me. I walked into an interview and the reporter talked about my family and their deaths. When I asked them not to use that, they said it was fucking gold—like what I said, what I felt didn’t fucking matter. All that mattered was selling the story.”
“Awww shit, man. I had no idea.” West clapped a hand on his shoulder, gripping hard. Chase stared at him, anguish reflected in his own face. These men may have not known their families like Ty did but they understood him, felt his pain like no other. They were there for him, were his family, and shared his burden.
“What did Piper say?” Chase asked, finally, breaking the silence.
“She apologized but said it was public record. Nothing we could do. That was the business. That’s not what I signed up for.”
Chase winced. “Shit, yeah, that’s kind of true. I’ve seen it on the circuit. Hell, when Adam died, I had reporters shoving mics in my face asking me how I felt. How the hell did they think I felt? My best friend had just died. Vultures, all of them.”
Ty stared at him. “I had no idea you went through that. Why didn’t you say anything?”
Chase shrugged. “What was I going to say? What could you do about it? It was part of the game. It sucked but I dealt with it and moved on. The questions eventually stopped and another tragedy took the place of Adam. Unfortunately.”
“Goddamn. You think I’m being a baby.” Ty shook his head, feeling like a whiny ass.
Chase shook his head. “Hell no, man. I expected the question. You had no idea they’d come after you with it. It’s not the same thing.”
“Maybe not. But still, I can’t live my life like that. It was miserable. I was miserable. I love music, but I just hated the crap that went with it.”
“So change it,” West said, his words so simple, so plain.
Ty stared at him for a long moment then laughed. “It’s not that easy.”
West shrugged. “Why not? What do you want to do? Do you want to make music or do you want to herd cows? Be honest and don’t think about us at all.”
Ty sat there for a long moment, looking at his brothers, then out over the rolling hills that made up part of the ranch, their heritage. The place they had called home since he was thirteen years old after the family he had been born to was lost to him and he had to find a new family. He loved it here, couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. But music fed his soul too, and so did Piper. He was fucking miserable without her and had made so many mistakes with her.
“I love Piper. I screwed up so bad with her. I accused her of so many things and she may have just been caught in the middle.” He sighed. “I love playing music. I have all these songs that are inside of me, bursting to come out. I want to write; I want to play. But I don’t know if I can play the game like they do. And I don’t know if I can do it in Nashville.”
“Then change the game. Do it your way. You always have a home here and you always have a job too. The cows aren’t going anywhere. Find a way to make your own career, your own path.”
When West said it, it all sounded so sensible, so easy. Could it really be that way? Could he do things his own way and have it all? Could he finally have the music career he always wanted but never believed possible? No, that career he once believed he wanted was not the one he wanted now. He wanted something different, something a little quieter, but just maybe it was still possible.
But first, he had to get the thing he wanted more than music. He wanted Piper.
He stood, brushing off his jeans. “I have to go. I need to get to Nashville.”
Both brothers stood. “You’re already packed and Tara has a ticket waiting for you.”
He shook his head. “No, no ticket. I’m driving this time. I need to go all-in. I need to show Piper that I’m there for her. All the way.”
Both brothers looked confused. “Are you leaving?”
He looked down at Dundee, who was pressed against his leg as if sensing his imminent departure. “And I won’t be going alone.”
*
Piper sat in her seating area off the kitchen and listened to the recorded music, not really paying attention or getting excited. She had recorded the song that week, a song she had thought might be a nice addition to her new album, but now she wondered what she had been thinking in selecting it. The pacing was off, the key wasn’t right, and the words just didn’t resonate. Maybe it was because it was about a woman meeting a guy for the first time and Piper needed one of those country songs about breakups or lost love. Something soulful and heartbreaking, because that was how she was feeling.
Her mother sat across from her and exchanged a worried look with her father. “Well, that wasn’t exactly the…peppy…sound a young love song should be.”
Piper s
hrugged and sipped her iced tea, kind of wishing for some of the pink concoction she’d had in Granite Junction. She bet that would make one hell of a great breakup drink. Would erase all inhibitions and maybe, just maybe, help her forget how fucking miserable she was for a few hours, until she woke up alone and realized how much she had fucked up her life again.
“Maybe you need to take a little break. Want to go to the cabin for the weekend? You always liked it there,” her mother offered, her tone tentative.
The cabin. Yeah, she’d like to go to a cabin but not in the Blue Ridge Mountains but in Granite Junction. She was happy there. No expectations, no pressure. She could be Piper Raines, person. Not Piper Raines, musician. She had a dog who just wanted her to throw a slobbery ball, friends who wanted to party with her, and a man who loved her. Notice the past tense of all of that. She doubted she’d ever see any of them again, not after the mess she made of Ty’s life. Once he’d shared how badly she’d wrecked his life and tried to steal his song, no one would talk to her again, not even Tara. And Piper hadn’t even intended to do any of that. It had all been one big business deal that had gotten out of hand, wasn’t something she had wanted. Didn’t want now.
Wait, she didn’t want all of that now.
That sentence was like a slap to the back of her head, shaking her right out of her funk.
“Well, something just clicked in my dear sister’s head. Wonder what that could be?” Colt drawled from the entrance to her kitchen where he was mooching food again, not that he’d find much. She hadn’t been much interested in eating in the four days since Ty had left. Hell, she didn’t even have leftovers, not even ordering takeout to eat. But he’d found something, probably something her mother had brought, hoping to entice her.