“Claire Ann Corbin, if you aren’t in this house in five seconds, I’m coming out there to find you. I suggest you find me first.”
A few “ooohhhs” answered him.
And then Claire Ann. “Be right there.”
He loved his sister. Loved both of them. Very much. But Claire Ann was about to catch some serious hell.
“THIS WAS a mistake. I have to get out of here.”
“Kylie, breathe. That was an unfortunate encounter, but you lived. Chill.”
She paced alongside the back of the barn with her friend trailing behind. “I can’t be here, Mia. It’s like torture. You don’t understand.” She shook her head and put her hands on her knees. She took a few deep breaths, thankful that she’d been able to send Rae to get her something to drink before she broke down. “Seeing him is hard enough. Seeing him here…oh God. Seeing him with her here? I won’t live through that. I won’t.”
“You will. I promise you will. Relax, Oklahoma. Sing your one song and we can blow this joint. I can probably get you an actual joint if you want one.”
Kylie laughed quietly. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
“Seriously, do you want another drink? There’s a flask in my purse in the car.”
It was tempting. Kylie sighed and leaned against the barn. Remembering she had on a sheer top that would probably tear right open if she caught it on a piece of the splintered wood, she stood abruptly.
“I’m okay. You’re right. Like my daddy used to say, never let ’em see you cry, right? I’m a big girl. I can do this.”
Mia grinned. “Atta girl, Oklahoma. So what song are you going to sing?”
Kylie’s eyes went wide. “Oh sweet Jesus.”
“That a new one?” Mia’s eyes darted in every direction as she tried to figure out what Kylie might be seeing that upset her. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t sing any of my songs.” She shook her head and closed her eyes briefly.
Her friend scrunched her brow in confusion. “Um, oh-kay. Why not?”
Panic radiated from Kylie’s gaze as she answered so low Mia could barely hear her. “’Cause they’re all about him.”
“HERE YOU go!” Rae Corbin smiled widely as she handed her a mason jar of sweet tea. They were taking this down-home thing pretty seriously apparently. “I looked for you but I couldn’t find you and then Pauly stopped me to ask if I’d seen Trace. Speaking of Trace, sorry about earlier. That probably sucked for you. I swear I didn’t set you up to run—”
“Rae. It’s cool. No worries. Thanks for the tea.” Kylie forced a smile and sipped her drink. Caterers behind her served barbecue that smelled like heaven. But her appetite was pretty much dead. Like the rest of her. Every cell in her body wanted to look for him. Which was odd because he was the last person she wanted to see.
Mia raised an eyebrow at Trace’s exuberant younger sister. “You remind me of someone.”
Rae practically bounced to the top of the tent. “I do? Really? Who? Someone famous?”
“I’m trying to put my finger on it...”
“Lily. She reminds you of Lily,” Kylie offered. She knew because Lily had reminded her of Rae.
“Yes she does,” Mia agreed. “You a fan of Lily Taite?”
“Oh my gosh, I so am!”
“Figures,” Mia muttered under her breath.
Kylie shot her a quick shut-the-hell-up look before grinning at Rae. “I’ll have to introduce y’all sometime.”
Before Rae could respond or do a cartwheel, Trace’s older sister appeared at her side. “Rae, I need to speak with you privately. Now.”
“See y’all later,” Rae called out as she was practically dragged away. Kylie tried to catch Claire Ann’s eye so she could offer the woman a friendly smile but the two women were gone in a blink.
“When and if you introduce her to Lily, please warn me so I can flee the tri-state area.” Mia grabbed a glass of wine from the waiter’s tray next to them and nodded at someone approaching. Kylie glanced in the same direction and saw Trace’s manager.
“Hi, Pauly,” she greeted him. He looked as nervous as a cat at a fireworks display.
“Hey there, kiddo. How about you and me head over to the stage and get you set up? You’re going to perform first and then you’re free to go. I’m sure you have better places to be.”
“In other words, you’re herding me the hell out of here as soon as possible. I’m sure he’s thrilled about me being here.” She snorted even though the truth hurt like hell. She wasn’t wanted here. She could feel it. Had seen it in Trace’s eyes in the house. Her heart grew heavier in her chest, causing a dull ache as Pauly took her elbow. What stung even worse was realizing a part of her—a tiny, stupid, naïve part—had hoped maybe he’d be happy to see her. Or at the very least, not horrified by the sight of her.
“It’s not…” The man next to her let out a loud breath as they reached the truck. “It’s a complicated situation, which I think you’re aware of. I mean, you can imagine what all he’s dealing with.”
Yeah, she could imagine all right. Someone at the label must have pushed her being here. Trace’s girlfriend was probably going to be super pissed and might make a scene, and Trace looked like he’d seen a ghost when she ran into him. But there was something more important to her than whether or not anyone wanted her around. She shoved her broken heart aside and gathered all the courage she had.
“Is he happy, Pauly? I mean, did rehab work and is everything okay with him and Gr—”
As if she’d been conjured by the mere thought of her name, Gretchen Gibson appeared before she could finish. Which was for the best since the lump rising in her throat was choking the shit out of her.
The statuesque, raven-haired woman narrowed her eyes as she gave Kylie a hard once-over.
“What’s she doing here?” Gretchen’s flashing gray eyes flicked over to Pauly.
“None of your concern, Gretchen. Let’s keep in mind this is a charity event. And that Trace needs for things to go smoothly.” The manager swiftly guided Kylie behind the lights and around to the metal stool that she’d use to climb into the back of the truck they were using as a stage. But not before she heard Gretchen’s bitter words.
“Oh, I know all about what Trace needs. What he doesn’t need is her here causing him to—”
“Enough,” Pauly commanded, using a tone Kylie hadn’t ever heard from him. “You’re up next, Gretch. The only words I want to hear out of your mouth are the ones you sing when you’re up on this truck. Otherwise, you’re free to go. We clear?”
Damn. Who pissed in his Cheerios? Not that she wasn’t grateful for his intervention. But Pauly Garrett seriously needed to get laid.
“Sure, PG. We’re clear.” Gretchen glared at Kylie once more before stalking off in the other direction.
As much as Kylie hated to admit it, Gretchen looked good. Pretty, even. Not at all rough and ragged like she had the last time Kylie had seen her. Sobriety agreed with her apparently. More salt in the wound.
“You good?” Pauly asked her as a young female assistant clipped Kylie’s earpiece in and handed her a microphone.
She couldn’t help but notice that her knees were shaking as she stepped up on the stool. She swallowed hard and forced her head to nod. “Pauly, the song I chose…It’s…It might…”
The manager shook his head and regarded her with warm, kind eyes. “It’ll be fine, kiddo. He knows it will be about him. They’re all about him, right?”
She nodded and tried to swallow the lump rising in her throat. Dammit. She’d put all this away. Behind her. And now it was crashing into her head on at full speed. “I didn’t even realize until—”
“Ms. Ryans? We’re ready.” The assistant practically shoved her forward. The crowd wasn’t nearly as big as she was used to and yet it was the most intimidating one she’d ever faced. She was thankful for the blaring spotlights practically blinding her. Because she knew he was out there. And she was about to sing out all
the pain he’d caused her right in front of him.
She forced a smile and focused on her breathing. This was it. Put up or shut up.
“Hi, y’all! Thanks for coming out tonight. What an amazing organization y’all are supporting just by being here.” Her voice was a little unsteady so she swallowed once more. Once the applause and whistling died down she grinned again. “A Hand Up is truly something special. I was raised by a single parent and I know firsthand the struggles many of them face. So reach deep into your pockets tonight!”
There was laughter and a few more whistles.
“Okay. Here we go.”
The members of Trace’s band began to play. The tingle of the symbols rose goosebumps on her skin. She sucked in a deep breath and sent up a silent plea for the strength to get through this.
I used to believe in make believe. Used to wish on stars. Used to fall asleep at night feeling safe there in your arms. I wanted to believe. That a girl like me…could have everything.
Kylie pulled in more air—hoping additional courage would come with it.
Now I know that life doesn’t always work out like I want it to. I get to go and live my dream but I had to let go of you.
The tempo sped in time with her racing heartbeat. Deep down there’s still one thing, one simple wish I wish could still come true. I wish there were two of me. So one of me could live my dream and the other one could stay right here with you.
Yeah I wish there were two of me. So one of me could lay right here on this old porch swing forever. Where we’d always be together. I wish there were two of me. So I could stay in your arms, chase my dreams and follow my heart. Oh I wish there were two of me.
Thanks to the glaring lights she couldn’t see him. But she could feel him. Could feel a heavy gaze boring into her as she finished her song.
When she was done, she thanked the audience and hopped down from the tailgate. Carefully weaving her way around lights and cords, she made it to the back of the barn. Where she put her hands on her knees and threw up everything she’d eaten in the last week to the soundtrack of Gretchen Gibson singing about second chances.
AFTER SHE’D gone inside and rinsed her mouth out, she smiled and shook hands and posed for pictures and signed autographs while Trace belted out Rock It On My Tailgate. The audience hollered and cheered and sang along as she navigated the path to the car that had brought her here. Once she’d found it, she snuck a lukewarm beer from the cooler in the back seat and looked around for Mia. But she was nowhere in sight.
The really sick part was she didn’t actually want to leave yet. Common sense said she should get as far from this place as she could and never look back. But she wanted to hurt just a little longer, ache a little more for what she’d lost. For a life she’d never have.
She didn’t feel like she’d so much as taken a breath until she made it down to the pond, away from the partygoers. She’d never thought she’d feel this way. Not here. Not in the only place aside from her actual home she’d ever felt safe. Alive. Loved.
She wondered briefly if he’d arranged this on purpose. Having her here. Making her face him and Gretchen since he’d seen her with Steven. But deep down she knew better. He couldn’t have known the label would be so insistent about her coming. And how self-centered was she? This was about his foundation, raising money for his A Hand Up charity. He didn’t give enough of a shit about her to plan such a significant even just to lure her here.
She took a large swallow of her beer. Thank God for Mia.
The thought almost made her laugh out loud. Those were four words she never imagined she’d ever be thinking. Plus, she was drinking and Trace was sober. Now there was some irony. But seeing him fresh out of the shower like that, shirtless, and wet and…damn. She really did not need to go there.
Insects danced on the surface of the pond, rippling the water here and there, contorting the perfect reflection of the moon. Whippoorwills called in the distance, and she closed her eyes. In her mind, the moon became the sun and she could hear the echo of her own squeals as she was tossed into that very same pond.
She could see him coming toward her, looking panicked at first and then smiling when he realized she wasn’t drowning. They’d splashed and laughed and she’d dunked him with all she was worth. They’d made love soon after. Her first time. Jesus. It seemed like it was yesterday and a lifetime ago all at once.
“Tellin’ your troubles to the crickets?”
She jumped at the deep cadence of his voice. For a moment she thought it might have been in her head. But turning, she saw him. Walking slowly down the steep incline toward the pond. She took another long drink from her bottle and steeled herself, slamming the thick walls back over her exposed emotions.
“You’re the one who just bailed on your own party. Who says I have troubles?”
Trace took a step toward her, tentatively, as if he realized he wasn’t welcome in her space. “Well I know that when I snuck off to drink it was because I had troubles. Everybody has troubles, Kylie Lou,” he answered quietly.
She grit her teeth together so hard it hurt. Asking him not to call her that would make her look weak, and demanding he not call her that would just make him do it that much more.
“Whatever you say. I’m gonna head back up and grab Mia. It’s gettin’ late.”
“Past your bedtime?” he teased.
She was careful to keep the smirk off her face. She had his number, knew his game. But she wasn’t playing. Not this time. She’d already gone all in once and lost everything.
“Something like that.” She gave him the widest berth possible as she passed. “Party was great. I’m sure it was a success. Best of luck with your foundation.”
“Hey.” He turned and reached for her but she took another step, just far enough to keep out of his reach. “Come on, it’s not that late.”
“It is,” she said, backing up even more. “It’s too late.” Her words held a double meaning, and his expression said he’d picked up on the one below the surface. She dipped her head. “It was a great benefit. Thanks for inviting me.” She swallowed hard, trying to gather the strength to say the rest. “Goodnight, T-Trace.”
Saying his name out loud ripped the air from her lungs. She turned away and stumbled. He reached out to steady her but it wasn’t necessary. She steadied herself and shook him off.
“I’m fine.”
He stepped closer. “Are you?” He pulled his hat off and ran a hand through his hair before turning it backwards. “’Cause it kinda seems like you might not be.”
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
“Well I am.” She bit her lip. Hard. But the words still came out. “Not that it’s any of your concern.” Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She was losing control of her mouth. Becoming the person he’d deemed Hothead not so long ago. This close she could smell his cologne and his warm woodsy scent. Memories she’d worked so hard to keep at bay forced their way back into her mind.
“Doesn’t mean I don’t still care,” was all he said.
She didn’t trust herself to speak again so she just turned and walked away without even saying goodbye. Just like he’d done. Just like everyone else always did.
Somehow it didn’t feel nearly as good as she’d expected it to.
“SITUATIONS LIKE this are called triggers,” Dr. Reynolds reminded him. “Sometimes it’s a person, a place, or just a stressor that agitates the urge to drink. We talked about these at length, remember? It’s okay to have them. I’d be shocked if you didn’t.”
The benefit had gone surprisingly well. They’d raised nearly twice as much money as Trace had expected, and the outpouring of support had blown his mind. But…Christ Almighty, seeing her there had nearly destroyed every ounce of self-control he’d had.
Claire Ann had promised him she hadn’t invited her. Apparently Rae had decided to take matters in her own hands and someone from the label, a dead someone if he ever found out who, had called in a favor he hadn’t asked for.
When she was on stage, singing a song that’d pummeled his heart six ways to Sunday, he’d wanted nothing more than to grab her up, throw her over his shoulder, and drag her to his bedroom caveman-style. He’d spend all night—and every night afterward—trying to take away the pain he’d caused her. And if he got her back in there, she was never coming out. Neither of them was. Ever.
He’d tried to talk to her and she’d all but run from him. Afterward, he’d spent the entire night sitting alone in his bedroom staring at the bed, picturing her in it. He hadn’t downed a bottle of bourbon and let the burn coat his insides with sweet fire and distract him from the pain of missing her. Of having lost her.
But now, having gone more than twenty-four hours on no sleep and an entire night of watching the ghost of Kylie Ryans tease and taunt him, he was on the brink.
“It’s more than that, Doc. This isn’t a trigger I can avoid. I mean, I can try. Hell, I’ve been trying, but…” He sat in his truck, rubbing the bridge of his nose with the hand not holding the phone. “I can’t outrun my own memory.”
He’d left the house as soon as it was daylight and driven to his house in Nashville. Which he knew wasn’t nearly far enough from her apartment. The only thing that kept him from going there was the memory of what had happened last time.
“Trace, it’s not your memory that’s the trigger. It’s the situation or your feeling like you can’t control it. Can’t repair what’s been broken.”
Yeah, okay. The man had a point.
She wasn’t a piece of equipment on the farm, wasn’t something he could take a hammer and nails to and fix. Unfortunately. Kylie Ryans was a force of nature—wild like prairie winds that blew past so quickly you couldn’t tell which direction they’d come from. She’d blown him the hell away from day one.
“Doc, I’m sorry to have called so early. I have to go. I’ll check in again tonight.” Before the doctor could protest, Trace hung up the phone. Grabbing a pen from the center console, he began jotting down the song that had just begun to play in his head.
Girl in Love Page 5