Playing it Kale (The McCain Saga Book 4)

by Keary Taylor

  I don’t know exactly who she means by we, but I’m grateful for it anyway. “Thank you,” I say. “It’s all been totally insane. But it’s also amazing.”

  I feel Sage’s eyes on me, studying me hard. “Then why do you sound so sad?”

  My eyes meet hers, and I don’t have to answer.

  We look at each other, and I can see it there, too. Sage is feeling the pain as well. She isn’t an emotional person, but she is observant, and she’s smart.

  “How is he?” I ask before I give myself permission to. Because the last thing I want to talk about is Kale. I’ve been trying so hard the last few months to not think about him. Or at least to pretend like I don’t think about him.

  She shrugs. “I can’t say that I really know.” She sits back in her chair, and her entire body language screams sadness. “He moved back to his apartment in New York about five months ago.”

  Five months. That seems so long ago. But then I have to remind myself that it’s been seven months since he removed me from his life.

  “I think he’s trying to deal. To figure out his life without the world constantly drooling over him,” she continues. “But he’s lost. Trying to rediscover who you are when you’re nothing but angry isn’t an easy thing.”

  Moisture stings the back of my eyes, but it isn’t sad. It’s pity. And anger. Because life just isn’t fair.

  “He made a huge mistake, you know,” Sage says when I don’t have anything. “By ending things with you.”

  I shrug and shake my head without looking at her. “We were young, and what did we know, right?”

  Sage places a hand on my arm and draws my eyes to hers. “Don’t do that to yourself,” she says, her voice stern. “Don’t cut yourself down when you were once sure about something. I know you loved my brother. I’m pretty sure you still do. And I know he loved you. No one knows Kale better than me, and I know he did.”

  My chest is having difficulties letting oxygen into my lungs. It’s hard to breathe. “Then why did he let me go?”

  Man, those words were hard to get out.

  She gathers her words for a second. “Because he let himself go. And you were so solidly attached to him by that point that he couldn’t let go of himself without letting you go, too.”

  These words kill me. They make me want to have that world-ending emotional break that I’ve been fighting back these past seven months. But I can’t.

  I just can’t.

  Cause once it starts, I’d never, ever be able to stop it.

  “We’re all having dinner at our house tonight,” Sage finally says. She may be intimidating and scary, but she does know when someone’s pushed to their limit. She knows when to change the subject. “We all would really love it if you came. You should come meet Riley and Lake’s new baby.”

  The love that Sage is extending, the love of the McCain family, it makes my heart feel just a tiny less heavy. It makes me feel a part of something again. “I’d love that.”

  It’s the best day I’ve had in months and months. Sage waited while I showered and got ready. Then we went shopping. And oh how the woman could shop and drop money like it was hot. But it was wonderful. I even managed to drag her into two second hand stores. She may have acted like she was going to die of Ebola or something, but she humored me.

  We went to lunch. Talked endlessly.

  I only got mobbed twice, signed about thirty random things, Tony getting us safely from one screaming fan to the next.

  And then around four, we headed back to her house on the water in Bellevue.

  “Good to see you again, Whitney!” Julian greets me warmly when we walk inside. He engulfs me in a huge hug, his tattooed arms embracing me tightly. “We’ve missed you. Not that we don’t see you every single day on TV.”

  “It’s good to see you, too,” I smile back at him when he lets me go.

  There’s someone back in the kitchen, whirlwinding around.

  “It’s my turn to host the family for dinner this month, and neither of us knows how to make anything more than cereal,” Sage says, looking slightly sheepish. “That’s Marta, the cook.”

  “Hi, Marta,” I call, giving her a wave.

  She’s a girl that doesn’t look much older than me. But the second she gets a look at my face, she freezes. “Oh my gosh, Whitney Ford.”

  We all laugh at that, and Marta starts gushing about how much she loves my music.

  “Well, thank you,” I say. I’ve gotten reactions like this hundreds, thousands of times. And I still don’t know how to take it. “That really means a lot to me.”

  “Lucian!” a shrill voice suddenly cries out. “That was my hair you pulled!”

  We all turn to see Paisley chase Lucian through the door and up the stairs. “It was an accident!” Lucian cries back.

  “Pay, let it go!” Drake yells, only three steps behind them. He’s got Afton on his hip, and I can’t believe how much she’s grown. “Hey, Whitney! What a nice surprise!”

  He crosses the hall and hugs me with his free arm. He lets Afton down and she goes running off after the other kids. “How are you, Miss famous, quirky girl?”

  “I’m good,” I say. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m lying through my teeth.

  “Whitney?”

  I turn to see Kaylee walking through the door, right after Quinn. She’s got a brilliant smile on her face. She literally darts forward and wraps me in a huge hug, the top of her head not even close to coming to the bottom of my chin. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “You too,” I say, squeezing her back. “I can’t believe how much the kids have grown.”

  “I know, right?” she says as she releases me. “I don’t know what Drake has been sneaking into their food.”

  “Won’t be long and Pay will be taller than you, my love,” Drake says with a grin as he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

  The door swings open, and in walks Lake. He’s got the handle of a car seat over his huge forearm. And behind him walks Riley. She looks tired, but amazing.

  “Hey,” they both say when they see me. Riley gently gives me a hug, and I can’t help but think she looks so good with a touch more baby padding on her. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Oh my goodness,” I coo when Lake flips back the sun visor of the car seat and reveals a tiny baby girl. “Who is this?”

  Lake beams. And I mean beams. The man looks so proud he could blind the sun with his new-father smile. He sets the car seat on the floor and unbuckles the tiny little newborn. Ever so careful, his giant hands swallowing her little body, he pulls her from the seat.

  “This is Callie,” he says as he cradles her in his muscled arms.

  “She’s one month old, yesterday,” Riley says with a blissful smile. She adjusts Callie’s shirt, which was poking up over her nose. And her nose looks exactly like Riley’s. Soft, red hair covers her head. She’s got Lake’s ears, and, I swear, Sage’s exact jawline. She looks so much like Riley, but she’s a McCain through and through.

  Callie McCain.

  “Can I hold her?” I ask hopefully.

  “Yeah,” Lake says with a smile. It’s always so startling to see a smile on his face. He seems so serious and reserved most of the time, but then these moments happen and this brilliant smile comes bursting forth.

  Carefully, supporting her delicate head with his rough hands, he settles her into my arms. I notice he smells faintly like horses. “She’s so tiny,” I coo as I look down at her precious face. She blinks at me, her eyes not quite blue any more, not quite the same green as Riley’s.

  “Is that Whitney?”

  I look up and see Robin McCain coming through the door with a diaper bag slung over one shoulder. She’s got a smile on her face and excitement in her step. She closes the space between us and folds me into a big mom hug, careful to not squish Callie.

  “It’s really great to see you, Robin,” I say, feeling my heart squeeze.

  She looks so ha
ppy. So different from the last few times I’ve seen her, when she was mourning her husband and son.

  “Don’t you just look like the superstar you are,” she says. And she actually pinches my cheek. “I just feel so proud whenever I see you on TV. You’re doing amazing.”

  “Thank you, that really means a lot,” I say, and my heart melts all the more.

  I don’t let Callie go as we settle down for dinner. I just hold her. And fall in love. And strangely, start to want one of my own. Because this is what really matters.

  I look up at this incredible family. This is what really matters. Not money, or fame, or the approval of the outside world. What matters is those who love you most. Who hold you close to their hearts, even if you’re not actually family. Family bonds of heart run deeper than blood and water.

  And for the first time in a long time, I’m just happy. I’m just Whitney, being happy. And that is the most amazing feeling in the world.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “Thank you, Toronto, you’ve been amazing!” I yell into the microphone.

  The crowd goes insane, and I laugh and smile and wave at them. I take one last bow, but put too much momentum into it, cause I trip forward, nearly falling over.

  I look up, embarrassed, but the crowd just goes even more crazy.

  “Thank you! I love you!”

  And then someone is talking in my ear, telling me to head off the stage. I blow the huge crowd one last kiss, and then jog off to the side.

  “Great job, nice show,” Hadley says as she starts helping the costume people change me out of my stage clothes.

  “Oh my gosh, that was crazy,” I breathe hard. Just like I always do after a show.

  “I promise, security will be tighter in Paris,” Hadley says, irritation in her voice.

  About half way into the concert, some girl broke onto the stage, ran over, and gave me this crazy hard hug. I couldn’t even breathe. I played it off like it was cute and we were friends, but it was actually kind of scary. She was acting kind of insane. Security swarmed the stage, dragging her off. She started screaming, “I love you, Whitney!” as they manhandled her off into handcuffs.

  The crowd was stunned and quiet for a minute. “I love you, too!” I finally called just to break the awkward silence. And then everyone went crazy.

  “What happened to her?” I ask as I finish changing. I had to get over my fear of other people seeing me when I changed. It just wasn’t an option to have modesty when on the move like this. People are going to see things, and I’m okay with that now, as long as they’re not seeing it all.

  “We handed her over to Toronto police,” Tony says, coming up from behind. “It’s up to them now.”

  “I feel bad,” I say as we start for the car that will take us to yet another hotel. “She was just excited. Can we make sure we send her something?”

  Hadley sighs, as if this is a huge inconvenience. “Yeah,” she relents. “We’ll see what we can do. I’ll put Mae on it.”

  It takes me a moment to remember who Mae is. One of Hadley’s three assistants. It now takes a whole army to keep me and everything involved going.

  When we’re at the crazy-priced hotel, I shower, pull on pajamas, and flop down in front of the TV. I flip through channels. And freeze when I hear Kale’s name.

  “Former world-famous model, Kale McCain sold his Manhattan apartment for a whopping seven point eight million today. Not present at the sale, we tracked him down and managed to talk to him on the phone for a few minutes. When questioned about his big move, Kale responded that he would be moving home to Washington State in the near future. He would not, however, disclose where he has been the last few months. One anonymous source has stated that America’s most handsome face has been getting a degree online in Fire Science. Is Kale headed into a new line of work? Will we be seeing him gracing firemen calendars soon? What do you think, Annette?”

  The male reporter turns to the female one. “I think this would be amazing, to see someone so well-known and so famous turn his life around and enter some kind of service. What happened to this man is tragic. Kale McCain’s life has been ripped apart. First with losing his father, then the fire, and breaking things off with Whitney Ford, all within the space of a few weeks. The man had some issues to heal. And I think it’s honorable, serving others. If he really is going into being a fireman, I say that’s amazing.”

  “There you have it,” the guy whose name I can never remember says. “We’ll keep you updated if we hear more on this story.”

  They move onto some story about Anthony Hawkins, and I click the TV off. I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling.

  Kale, a fireman? I never, ever would have considered it. But how much sense does that make? It was a fire that ended his career, that nearly killed him and his friend. Kale is having to face his demons, and what better way to do it than literally facing what ended his life as he knew it?

  And he’s moving back home to Washington. That says something, too. That he’s ready to be a part of his family again. That he’s ready to face them.

  A hard thing in my chest gives a squeeze, and I try to tell myself to just be happy for him.

  Because one of us should get that.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Paris, Zurich, Sydney, Perth. And a bunch of other places in between. All the shows are sold out. They’re all crazy. They’re all amazing.

  My album sits at number one. “Safe Life” sits at the number one song. Some days it all still feels like a dream. A fantasy. This can’t be real and can’t be my life. Because it’s too big. I don’t fit into this life, I’m not enough to fill it all. This has to be someone else who’s on every music magazine. That’s someone else on the TV, laughing and smiling like she knows what the heck she’s doing.

  But it’s not. That’s me. And I’m not sure how I got there, or who I am these days, but I’m pretty sure I’m some alternate version of myself. The self that was scared to death to sing in front of a hundred people at a wedding. She’s still scared to sing in front of those ten thousand people. But she does it. Somehow.

  I turn twenty-three, and I don’t even remember that it’s my birthday. It’s Tony who reminds me in the morning. He gives me a cupcake with a single candle on top. And a pack of rainbow colored guitar picks, and a vintage necklace from the fifties. It’s so thoughtful and perfect, and I just get teary eyed and hug him.

  June is gone in the blink of an eye. So is July. And then August. And before I know it, most of September is gone.

  If I thought my life was going by at warp speed before, it’s nothing like the acceleration I live at now.

  But finally. Finally. There are only two shows left.

  London. And New York.

  I have big plans when the tour is done. Big plans to sit and relax, and to drop off the face of the planet for at least a few months. I plan to not do a single interview. I plan to get a dog, or a cat, or maybe a couple of both. I plan to sleep in and sleep in my own bed for weeks on end. I plan to know where I am each and every morning I wake up.

  I plan to reconnect with my parents. And Ming. Slowly, I’ve been trying to heal those relationships. Ming will text me every once in a while now. Dad calls on most Sundays, and Mom seems interested in talking to me for a few minutes here and there.

  I plan to be a person for a while, instead of this thing that is almost alien to myself.

  And it will be amazing.

  But first, there are these two shows.

  I’ve become a pro at falling asleep on planes. I bring my own special pillow and blanket. I curl up in one of the plush seats. Pull the blanket up over my head, put some earbuds in, and zonk out.

  Tony wakes me when we land in London. A car transports us to a hotel. I get an hour to shower and dress in something comfortable.

  I put my headphones back in as we drive to the venue. The tail end of a Miranda Lambert song plays out, the music shuffles, and then a 3 Doors Down song comes on.

 
How fitting. It’s “Landing in London.”

  The song is about the life of being on tour, but only thinking about the one you love. Or, that’s what I’m pretty sure it’s about. But it’s heartbreaking. Cause it talks about how this life gets crazy, but what keeps you sane is knowing you’ll be going back home to the one who matters.

  I turn my face to the glass window as my eyes turn red.

  “And all these days I spend away, I’ll make up for this I swear.”

  The breath catches in my chest. I can’t pull in a deep one.

  Because I wanted this heartbreak. The one that Brad Arnold is singing about. The longing to be with the one who loves you. The hard weeks away. The desire to go home to the one who is waiting for you.

  Kale and I should have had this. I should have been painfully missing him, knowing that I would be going home to him, eventually. That he was going to be waiting for me. I should have been able to call him before the show, to hear his voice, to have him tell me that he’d be flying out soon to see me.

  And it’s then, listening to that song, that I finally break.

  A floodgate of tears comes out in a torrent. A pained gasp rips from my throat.

  “Whitney?” Tony asks from beside me, concern ripping through his gravelly voice. “What’s wrong? You hurt?”

  Another gasp rips through me, my eyes completely glazed over with tears. I shake my head. No, I’m not hurt, but everything in me has finally broken. I feel Tony’s hands on me, and he pulls me into his arms.

  A sob catches in my throat. My chest feels so tight I can’t get any oxygen up or down. I grip Tony’s suit in my fingers, grasping onto it for dear life.

  This is the edge, and I’m going to fall off it and never see the light of day again.

  “Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Tony says in a low tone as he runs a hand over my hair, holding me close.

  “No, it’s not,” I breathe out harshly. “It hasn’t been okay in months. It’s been shit and wrong, and I’ve been…I’ve been trying. But I just can’t anymore. I can’t.”