by Codi Gary
Gemma processed her mother’s words and whispered, “Travis never had a dad, and his mom was a junkie. He was sent to eight different foster homes, but he’s a wonderful dad.”
Her mother laughed softly. “I’m sure he is, but none of us are perfect, Gemma. Travis is going to make his own mistakes with Charlie, just like you have. The thing about people is we’re flawed; we’re going to mess up, and it’s up to those around us to get us back on track.”
Gemma’s eyes stung as she thought about how mad Charlie was with her now and wished her mother didn’t make so much sense.
For some reason, she still couldn’t let go of the video and, clearing her throat, she asked, “Will you excuse me, Mom? I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Before her mother could stop her, she practically ran down the hall to the guest room, shutting the door behind her. She hadn’t gotten around to cleaning it yet, and the room still held the spicy scent of Travis’s cologne. With desperate, jerky motions, she opened the package, knowing she had to watch the video, no matter what it showed her. Finally, she took a deep breath and sat on the end of the bed, holding onto the remote for dear life.
The words Travis and Gemma’s Ceremony popped up on the screen, and with shaking hands, Gemma pressed play.
The sound of soft organ music began as the picture came into focus. Seamus stood under an arbor, yelling at the person behind the camera, and a red-haired woman Gemma remembered as his wife came to stand next to him, flicking his ear. The view moved slightly to the right and Travis came into view, moving up to join Seamus. Gemma’s vision blurred as she watched his attention shift and his handsome face split into a wide grin. The camera turned slowly and she saw herself in that cream ball gown, walking up the aisle with a goofy smile, her eyes glued on Travis, smiling under the arbor. The camera followed her until she almost reached Travis and then zoomed in on his face. Travis’s blue eyes sparkled like crystals, and she could have sworn she saw tears in them before he reached out and pulled her to him. As she watched, she remembered that feeling of Travis kissing her, clinging to his hard biceps as he told her without words that he wanted this. He wanted her.
In the video, Seamus cleared his throat and hissed, “Hey now, boyo, there’ll be plenty of time for that after.”
Gemma watched the couple pull apart. Now she couldn’t see her own face, but she could see Travis’s. It was filled with joy and . . . warmth. Love.
As Seamus went through the vows, the camera moved. Gemma, her face flushed with color, repeated after him without looking away from Travis.
I, Gemma Anne Carlson, take thee, Travis Charles Bowers . . .
Before, Gemma hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Travis’s face during the ceremony, or whether or not he’d really cared about her, but staring at the woman in the film now, she could remember how she felt standing up there, reciting those words. And the only person she’d ever wanted to say them to was Travis.
She loved him. Beyond reason, logic, or fear. She’d been holding on to the past so tightly that she hadn’t been able to listen to herself and what was best for her.
Gemma had been half alive until she’d met him, and when he was gone, she’d put her heart and soul into their son. But the minute she’d found Travis again, that spark had returned.
He was her light. He was her strength.
And she had blown it, big-time.
“Gemma?” her mother called, coming into the room. Gemma tried to hide her tears and turn off the DVD, but her mother had already seen it.
“Oh, Gemma.” Her mother sat down next to her on the bed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. It was so comforting; Gemma longed to turn her head and sob into her shoulder, but she didn’t want to break down.
As if she didn’t feel Gemma’s stiffening, her mother said, “I still remember the first day you brought Travis home to meet us. I saw the way you were with him. After you started dating, your daddy told me he thought Travis was too mature and would take advantage of you. I didn’t agree, though. When you were with Travis, I watched as that little spark you used to have started to come back, and you shined, honey. He brought out the best in you, and you were good for him.”
Sighing, her mother continued, “I think I did you a disservice. I told you to keep your head down and ignore the bullies. I didn’t ever tell you that I often disagreed with your father. I taught you to be weak and scared, when I should have taught you how to fight for what you wanted. I’m sorry I failed you.” Taking Gemma’s hand, she asked, “What do you want, Gemma? What’s going to make you happy and whole again? What do you want to fight for?”
Gemma’s cheeks were wet with tears and her voice sounded strangled as she said, “I want Travis. I want him here, living with us. I want to spend the rest of our lives together, having more children and loving each other.” Sobbing, she threw herself against her mother, letting go of the bitterness, the resentment. “I want it all, Mom.”
Her mother’s arms tightened around her and she whispered, “Then make things right with your boy, and go after what you want.”
A LITTLE WHILE later, after her tears had dried and she was calm, Gemma walked up the stairs to Charlie’s room. Knocking, she called, “Charlie, can I come in?”
There was a pause, and then he said, “I guess.”
Turning the knob and pushing the door open, she walked inside and made her way to sit down on his bed. He was propped up by a mountain of pillows, reading one of his Goosebumps books.
Hesitantly, she asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” he said quietly, not looking up from his book.
“Charlie, look at me, please.”
Those dark blue eyes met hers defiantly, and she sighed. “I know you’re mad at me, and I don’t blame you. I’m mad at myself, for a lot of things.” Reaching out, she took his book from his hand and set it on the nightstand. “I used to get mad at your grandpa and grandma a lot, too.”
“Why?” Charlie asked.
Gemma smiled a little. “My father, who you didn’t get a chance to meet, used to say hurtful things to me and yell. A lot. I know that he was doing the best he could, but when you’re a kid, you don’t get it. All you know is that there’s this huge person in your face screaming, and it scares you.”
“He did that?” Charlie asked, eyes wide.
“Yeah, he did. He wasn’t a bad man, he just didn’t have a very good example to follow, and he let his anger get the best of him sometimes. But when he would get into that state, I learned to shut him out. I would go to a little place inside my mind and wait until it was over.”
“Did Grandma yell at you, too? Is that why you got mad at her?” Charlie asked.
“No. I was mad at Grandma for not stopping him,” Gemma said.
Charlie seemed to be mulling things over. “Did you ever forgive her?”
“Yes, the year after you were born. Grandma and I got into an argument, and I told her how I felt. And she cried, and explained that a husband and a wife were a team. She had been taught that you back up your husband in public, and tell him he’s wrong in private,” Gemma said.
“That’s dumb,” Charlie said, using perfect kid logic.
“Yeah, but people are the way they are, and it’s hard to change them unless they want to change.” Squeezing his hand, she continued. “Charlie, your dad and I are going to have fights. All kinds of fights. We’re going to try our hardest not to, but when we do, it doesn’t mean we don’t love you.”
“What about Dad? You said you didn’t love him and you wanted him to go,” Charlie said, his lip trembling.
“I made a mistake. I was upset and took it out on your dad, like my dad did to me. I’m not perfect and I’m going to mess up, but I promise to try to fix this,” she said.
“How?” Charlie asked.
“Well, for starters, I’m going to fly to Sacramento and talk to your dad, ask him to forgive me and for him to come home,” Gemma said, letting out an oomph when Charlie threw
his body against hers and wrapped his arm around her neck, his hard cast hanging along his side.
“Thank you. Thank you,” Charlie chanted, squeezing her, and she felt wet tears on her shoulder.
Returning his embrace, she said, “I want you to understand, there’s a chance he won’t forgive me, but even if that happens, he’ll still be your dad.”
“I know,” Charlie whispered.
“How about you? Do you forgive me?” Gemma asked, her eyes filling up with tears.
“Yeah. I’m sorry, Mom.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Gemma said, hugging him hard.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
GEMMA WENT DOWNSTAIRS after Charlie fell asleep, and stopped in the kitchen. Grabbing her purse, she pulled out Ms. Collier’s card and went to get the cordless phone.
“Are you calling Travis?” her mother asked from the kitchen table.
Dialing, she shook her head. “No. I’m calling a reporter who ambushed me outside Hall’s Market.”
“For heaven’s sake, why?”
Holding the phone to her ear, she replied, “Because I’m going after what I want.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
* * *
BY THURSDAY NIGHT, Travis couldn’t wait to get back to his room and sleep until the concert on Friday. After negotiations with George, a video chat with the head of Off Road Records, and the long list of interviews and events he’d done that day, he was ready for his tour to be over.
He’d also put in a call to Sally Barrett of Rock Canyon Realty, who was getting him a list of land for sale in the area. If he had some time, he might as well build his dream house, and for that he needed the perfect spread.
Pulling out his cell phone, he called Gemma’s home phone. He wanted to talk to Charlie to see how he was doing.
And tell Gemma how much I miss her.
Of course he missed her. He missed her lying next to him, running her finger over his stomach as she talked to him. He missed the way her glasses slipped down the bridge of her nose, and the way she cursed as she pushed them back up. The warmth of her hand in his, the smell of her skin, and the way she laughed. Everything about being away from her reminded him of how much he wished she were there.
“Hello?” an older woman’s voice sang on the other end of the line.
“Hello. I was calling to talk to Charlie.”
“I’m sorry, he’s not here right now. Travis? Is that you? It’s Gemma’s mom.”
“Mrs. Carlson? How are you?” he asked. He’d always liked the older woman; she’d been a lot friendlier than her husband.
“I’m fine, Travis, and I think you can call me Jeanie. After all, we’re family now.”
Awkward. “Thanks, Jeanie. Do you know when Charlie’s going to be back?”
“Not sure, maybe in a few hours. That kitten you brought home is just the sweetest thing,” she said.
Home. Clearing his throat to cover the emotion in his voice, he said, “Yeah, she is. I miss the little squirt.”
“I think she misses you, too. I know Charlie sure does . . .” Jeanie said, before adding, “and Gemma.”
I doubt that. “Can you just let Charlie know I called?” Travis asked, avoiding her subtle hint.
“Sure can, Travis. Thanks for calling,” Jeanie said.
As he sprawled across the king-size bed, his hand smoothed the empty place next to him, and for the hundredth time in the last two days, he wished Gemma was there.
Suddenly, there was a knock on his door, and with a sigh, he stood up to answer it.
He looked through the keyhole and pulled the door open. “Hello, Chelsey.”
“Hey, Travis,” she said, reaching out to hug him. He sidestepped her, her eyes narrowed, and he wondered why he’d ever thought it was a good idea to mess around with her. It had only happened once, and he’d stopped it before anything serious had happened, but it was also the last time he’d invited her out drinking with the rest of the crew. He’d tried to let her down easy, but, apparently, she’d been holding a grudge.
“Heard you wanted to see me,” she said, placing a hand on her narrow hip.
“Yeah, I just wanted to let you know you won’t be opening tomorrow night,” he said, thinking about all the hell this woman had caused because she was angry with him. She was about to find out that you didn’t mess with him.
He could tell the minute his words registered and her self-assurance melted away. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re off my tour and off the label, effective immediately,” he said, pulling a beer from his mini-fridge and popping the top.
“You . . .” she stammered, “you can’t do that!” Her voice rose on the last word, and she looked like she was on the verge of stamping her foot.
“Honey, I’ve been with this label for ten years and have made them a lot of money. You’re nothing but a jealous twit who likes to talk to the press when she doesn’t get her way. If I see you again on my tour, or find out that you talked to the press about me or my family, I’ll do more than send you back to singing in bars. I’ll make sure you never work in Nashville again.”
Chelsey’s skin turned a milky green as her voice broke. “Come on, Travis. I wouldn’t do that. It’s not even like I knew your little girlfriend’s last name, anyway.”
“But you knew we went to high school together,” he said, tipping back the beer and chugging half of it down. “The thing about reporters is, they say their sources are confidential, but as you proved firsthand, everybody has their price.”
No longer playing the victim, she smirked. “You think you’re untouchable, Travis? I’ve got friends, too, powerful friends, and they won’t let you fire me.”
“If you’re talking about any of the studio executives you’ve fucked or even your manager, believe me, they won’t help you.” He finished up his beer and smiled. “Everyone has their dirty little secrets, Chelsey, and it turns out yours is married men. I don’t need to tell you that although people love a good cheating song, homewreckers are never tolerated.”
He saw that he finally had her scared and walked to the door, holding it open for her. “So, here’s the deal: You get the hell off my tour, and as long as I never see your face again, I won’t be tempted to sling my own dirt around. Are we clear?”
She stomped past him in a rage and hissed, “Fuck you, Travis.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
ON FRIDAY MORNING, Gemma was twisting her hands nervously as she got off the elevator in Travis’s hotel. Charlie had wanted to come with her, but she’d told him she needed to talk to his father by herself first. Gracie had dropped her off at the Boise Airport on Thursday afternoon, but she hadn’t been able to get on a flight to Sacramento until six a.m. that morning.
Walking down the hallway to his suite, she took a deep breath before knocking. She waited a moment, listening for rustling inside, but there was nothing. Tapping on the door a few more times, she finally heard grumbling.
The door jerked open, and Travis, looking handsomely rumpled in a pair of boxers and nothing else, said, “Gemma? What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you,” she said. “Can I come in?”
“Yeah, sure, come on in,” he said. Stepping back to let her pass, her shoulder brushed his chest, and she had to remind herself that stopping to snuggle against him was no longer her privilege.
Closing the door behind her, he reached down to grab his jeans off the floor. Sticking one leg in, he said, “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Straight to the point. “I wanted to apologize for blaming you for those reporters. I was out of line and I’m sorry.”
Buttoning his pants, he seemed to be weighing her apology. “Okay.”
That hadn’t been the response she was looking for. “Okay? That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. Something besides okay,” she said, knowing she was being ridiculous but un
able to stop herself.
“I appreciate the apology. As it was, you were partly right. It was my fault we were leaked to the press.”
“You know who it was?” Gemma asked.
“Chelsey Cooper. She leaked your first name and our high-school connection to the papers after she saw the picture of us leaving the chapel. The media must’ve dug up the rest,” Travis said as he pulled a T-shirt out of his bag and put it on.
“Why would she do that?”
“Apparently, she holds a grudge and has issues with rejection.” Travis crossed his arms with a triumphant smile and said, “But after this little stunt, she’ll think twice before making trouble.”
If the woman hadn’t created a permanent black mark in Gemma’s mind, she would feel bad for her. “There’s something else.”
Travis sat on the bed. “Yeah?”
“I lied when I said I didn’t love you. I was angry about the reporters, and scared that when you went back to this life, it would be over anyway. I know I’ve probably screwed up beyond repair, but I just needed you to know that I was a coward. You are all I’ve ever wanted from the time I was sixteen, but I spent my life keeping my heart trapped away in a little box, afraid of it getting trampled, and I never truly opened it. I came here to tell you that I’m ready. I’m all in, if you’ll have me, because if you won’t, I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life. No one could ever love me the way you do. You’ve forgiven me when other people wouldn’t, you’ve loved me when I couldn’t even love myself, and you’ve shown me that some things are worth fighting for. I accused you of not fighting for me, but the truth is, I’ve never fought for anything. It’s been easier for me to wrap myself in my protective bubble, so I don’t get hurt, but that’s not living. I want to live my life to the fullest . . . and I can’t do that without you in it.”