The other man held his hands up. “Now wait just a damn minute. Since when does your shitty love life have to interfere with everyone else’s?”
“Since now.”
Mike frowned at him from under a mess of blond hair. “You know, if it were me in your position, I’d be thinking that this tour could be the perfect opportunity to—”
“Thin ice, Brennen,” Trace practically growled at him. “Drop it.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
Trace slammed the door to the last trailer shut with a bang. “And I don’t want to know.”
Without another word on the subject of Kylie Ryans, her friend, or what might or might not happen on this tour, Trace turned away and stalked over to his bus. Granted, it was only half his. But it was half his. Not half Steven Blythe’s. Dammit.
“Hey,” Kylie said softly as he approached. “Um, I haven’t gotten on yet so I didn’t know if you’d already picked which room you—”
“Take whichever room you like,” he said shortly as he moved past her little entourage without slowing.
Take the room, take my heart, take my life. He would’ve written it down and used it for lyrics later but he didn’t have the ability to think straight at that particular moment. Seeing Kylie and Steven together was his kryptonite. It hurt. It sucked out his soul and made him feel weak and vulnerable and pissed the hell off about it.
Dropping the one bag he carried in the booth in the middle of the bus, he plopped down into the seat and lowered his head in his hands.
For a few moments, he sat in silence, alone with his thoughts. Thoughts of calling his sponsor because he wanted a drink so bad he could taste it. But that wasn’t the want that was overpowering him.
He wished they’d had rehab for Kylie Ryans addiction. He never would’ve left.
The sweet sound of her laughter chimed through the bus as she boarded and greeted the driver. He hadn’t even noticed the man before. He only caught a few words of their conversation, but the ones he did were, “Oklahoma, my daddy, this guitar, and of course I’d love to sign that for your daughter.”
Yeah, she was different in a lot of ways. But she was still the same girl who had stepped tentatively onto his bus two years ago.
His mind’s eye conjured the memory of her greeting him on the bus during his Back to My Roots tour. He’d known even then that there was something about her. But he’d had no idea how drastically she was going to change his life. And he’d been completely clueless about how much she was going to change him.
He dragged himself back into the present and watched her smile and nod during the exchange with the driver, wishing for the first time ever that he’d never met her. He wished that he was a stranger to her and that this was their first encounter. So that she could get to know him as this man. A sober one who valued his career, his relationships, and more than any of that, her.
He wished for those things even more when she turned toward him and the smile dropped from her face at the sight of him. She was a professional though, so she plastered it right back on before his very eyes.
“I’ll take the suite in back if that’s all right with you. It has the attached bathroom I hear.”
Trace tried to make eye contact with her, but she wasn’t having it.
“Okay.” He couldn’t give a damn about which room she took. There was so much to say, so much they needed to discuss, and yet neither of them could admit it out loud.
“Okay,” she parroted back in the same tone. Apparently that was all she had to say because she disappeared into her room without another word.
The second he heard her door close, he made a decision.
He wasn’t going to try and get Kylie Ryans back. She clearly had moved on and if she was happy, he had no desire to take that away from her. But he was damn sure going to find out if she truly was happy, and if Blythe was into her for the right reasons. And like it or not, he was going to find out whether or not he could handle being on tour with a woman he still loved.
IT WAS 2:42 a.m. and Trace had an answer to at least one of his questions.
The answer, unfortunately, was no. No he could not handle being on tour with her. Kind of a shitty time to be realizing this, that much he knew for certain.
Knowing she was less than twenty feet away, probably scantily clad in one of her favorite threadbare T-shirts under her covers was killing him.
His blood burned in his veins as he lay in his own bed sans covers. Somehow her scent had infiltrated the entire bus. He wasn’t sure if he was actually inhaling that sweet warm vanilla-honey smell he loved so much or if his memory had become so vivid that it included all five senses now.
But it wasn’t his memory keeping him awake. It was his inability to tell the future that had him tossing and turning.
Questions swarmed and stung him in all his weakest spots. What if she brings Blythe on the bus? What if he sleeps in her room? Or worse—doesn’t sleep in there?
The thought of hearing even the tiniest sound of pleasure coming from her room while another man was in it stoked the fire she’d lit inside of him. The intensity was like nothing Trace had ever known.
He’d never been possessive or concerned about the love lives of any women other than his sisters. And that was just because he had their best interests at heart and because, naturally, he didn’t want to know anything about their sex lives. Despite the fact that Claire Ann and Rae were thirty and nineteen respectively, in his head, they’d never had sex—nor would they ever.
But Kylie Ryans had. He knew firsthand that she’d had great sex. Earth-shattering, mind-blowing, ruin-your-whole-damn-life-for-anyone-else-ever sex. He knew because she’d had it with him.
WHEN THE bus stopped moving, Trace roused himself from the half-ass version of sleep he’d been in. His head throbbed from not getting nearly enough rest. He stood and stared at his reflection in the mirror.
Swollen bloodshot eyes stared back from a pounding head filled with blurry memories of Kylie walking past him as if he were a stranger on the street. It was like having a hangover minus the night of drinking that led up to it.
He didn’t have an en suite bathroom so he had to step out of his room to take a shower. Which he did. A long and hot one that nearly scalded his skin right off.
But apparently painful memories didn’t evaporate as easily as shower steam. Because when he stepped out of the bathroom, he was once again wrapped in a towel from the waist down and standing face to bare wet chest with a fully clothed and fully startled Kylie Ryans.
“H-hey. Um, I just came to tell you that we’re all heading to breakfast. At the diner here in Columbus. And then we have soundcheck.”
He couldn’t help but grin. She was fighting the good fight to keep her eyes from slipping down his exposed body. But she was losing that fight.
“Got it. I’ll be out in a few.”
“Okay.”
His grin widened when she didn’t move. “So, uh, if it’s all right with you, I’ll get dressed now.” He tilted his head toward where she stood.
“Yeah. Of course. Please do.”
“You’re blocking my bedroom door.”
“Oh God. Sorry.” She nearly tripped over herself in her attempt to get out of his way. “I’m going to go now. To the diner. For breakfast.”
She muttered something under her breath that he didn’t catch.
“Hey, Kylie Lou?” he called out as she left.
“Yeah?” She turned and met his gaze with wide eyes.
There was so much he wanted to say to her. Apologies and desperate pleas for another chance came to mind. But the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. So he chickened out.
“Enjoy the view?”
Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him briefly before storming off the bus.
Leaning back against the wall, he let out a breath.
It was going to be a long few months.
“ENJOY THE view? Enjoy the view! I mean, what t
he hell?” Kylie leaned her head down and turned her face toward her best friend so no one else in the diner would hear. “We’ve barely spoken, despite the fact that we’ve been on the same bus for nearly twelve hours, and all he can say to me is, Enjoy the view?”
She tried her best to whisper despite the fact that she really wanted to yell her frustration at the top of her lungs.
“And that’s why I believe in equal opportunity junk-punching,” Lulu responded just before taking a sip of her coffee.
Kylie gave a subtle shake of her head to let her friend know that was the end of the conversation when Hannah slipped into the booth across from her. She wasn’t exactly thrilled about having a day-to-day manager. But she knew Lulu was right—it wasn’t Hannah’s fault she’d been sent to babysit her. After her run-in with Trace on the bus she was starting to think maybe she did need someone to help keep her head on straight after all.
“So next week the reporter from Rolling Stone is meeting us in Connecticut. The photo shoot is at nine and he’ll be with you every minute up until the show. So be mindful of what you say, even if you’re speaking to someone else or on the phone. Pretty much everything is fair game.”
“Good morning, Hannah,” Lulu began. “Please, feel free to jump right in with the shoptalk. No need to waste time on niceties.”
Hannah’s face darkened with what appeared to be embarrassment. “Sorry. There’s just so much to cover and I realize Miss Ryans’s time is precious.”
Lulu smiled warmly at the other girl. “Very true. But I think Miss Ryans can handle it. She’s done okay so far, right?”
Kylie barely managed to keep her eyes from rolling back in her head. “I’ll try to keep my potty mouth in check. Thanks for the reminder.”
Before any of them could say anything else, the bell above the diner door chimed alerting them that new patrons had entered. Kylie glanced up and nearly spit out her coffee when she saw Trace and Steven coming through the door at the same time.
Her face must have given her away because Lulu turned to look at what had caught her attention.
Kylie watched as Trace gave Steven a hard glare before moving aside to let him pass. Both guys joined the tables where their bands were seated without even glancing in her direction.
“You okay, Miss Ryans?” Hannah asked softly.
“What?” Kylie worked to keep her face blank. “Yeah. I’m fine. Sorry. I was, um, lost in thought.”
“Bet I can guess what you were thinking about.” Lulu snickered and Kylie kicked her under the table.
“Anyway,” Hannah continued, “after the official interview, the reporter will hang around for the concert, and the review and cover will run in next month’s issue. You’re one of very few young female country artists to be featured, so keep in mind that you’re representing—”
“Hey there, pretty lady,” a male voice said. “Sorry to interrupt your breakfast.”
All three girls looked up at the man standing at the edge of their booth. Kylie greeted him with a warm smile.
“No problem, Danny. I was wondering when you were going to come say hi to me.” She slid out of the booth and gave the older man from Trace’s band a hug. He gave her a firm squeeze in return and the familiar ache of missing her dad pinged through her chest.
“Well, I don’t want to upset any of your gentlemen suitors over there,” he said with a wink and a nod toward Steven and Trace. “But I did want to let you know I brought my banjo along in case you felt like singing that song you wrote.”
The lightning flashes of discomfort became thunderous vibrations of agony at the memory of the song she had written and sung about her daddy.
“Um, okay. I don’t really play that one much anymore. But thanks for letting me know.”
“Anytime, sweetheart. You ladies have a good one.” With a parting nod, he headed back toward Trace and the others.
Kylie felt the blood draining from her face. Danny was a painful reminder. A living, breathing reminder of just how much she missed her daddy. And the fact that there had only ever been one man able to soothe that painful ache rattled her even harder.
Suddenly she couldn’t swallow, and a dull ringing sound began to radiate from inside her head.
“I’m not feeling so great, y’all. I-I’m going to go lie back down on the bus for a while. Here, breakfast is on me.” She slid a black credit card toward Lulu and bolted out of the diner as quickly as she could manage without making a spectacle of herself.
A few feet outside the diner, she heard the chime of the door a second time, but she didn’t look back to see who had followed her out. It could’ve been Lulu or Hannah or Steven. Or…someone else.
Her chest tightened and her stomach clenched at the realization that there was only one person she wanted it to be. The absolute last person she should want it to be. And yet…she hoped and prayed it was him.
The ground beneath her blurred through the moisture as she focused on making it to the bus without looking back. She blinked in an attempt to dry it up.
“Stop it. This is ridiculous,” she whispered to herself. “Grow up already.”
“You look pretty grown up to me,” his voice said from behind her.
Her entire body went rigid at the unexpected sound, but there was a part of her—a small part—that relaxed.
“I just needed some air. It was getting kind of crowded in there,” she said without turning to face him.
“Agreed,” he said low and practically in her ear.
When did he get so close?
“So, um, I’m fine. No need to escort me. I’m just going to go lie down on the bus for a while.”
“Turn around and tell me you’re fine and I’ll go.”
She swallowed and pressed her eyes shut, blinking out any remaining tears. Roughly swiping her hands beneath them to clear the evidence, she turned.
“Trace,” she said slowly. She really wished she didn’t have such an intense physiological response to the sound of his name on her lips. It was difficult to hear herself speak with her heart hammering in her ears. “I’m fine. I don’t want everyone to think I’m making some big dramatic scene and you had to console me. Go enjoy your breakfast.”
“Come on, Kylie Lou. Since when do we care what everyone thinks?” His hazel eyes gleamed in the sunlight. Standing there the way he did, he practically radiated sunshine. He was warmth personified. Like a clear day on a Georgia farm. The urge to reach out and wrap her arms around him nearly overtook her.
Thankfully, his phone rang just as she was about to speak. Good thing, because she had no clue what the hell she had been about to say.
“Answer it,” she said softly.
He frowned at the screen, but did as she’d said. “Hey, Gretch. What’s going on?”
Kylie’s knees went weak at the sound of his girlfriend’s name. She wondered if this was how he felt about her and Steven. Then she realized it didn’t even matter. They were done. The past was the past and Gretchen was Trace’s present. And probably his future, too.
He turned slightly to the side as he spoke, just enough for Kylie to step out of his line of sight and tap on the door to the bus. The driver, Reggie, who went by Tiny—despite the fact that he was anything but—opened the door. She greeted him quickly and darted back to her room.
Shutting the door behind her, she leaned against it and slid to the floor.
Everything was different. And yet the thing upsetting her most, the cold, hard fact that had a cold, hard lump wedged in her throat, was the fact that nothing had really changed.
Her daddy was still dead. She still missed him so much it was damn near debilitating. And she was still in love with the only man besides him she’d ever loved.
And she still couldn’t have him.
THE SHOW in Columbus had gone well. Lots of college kids had shown up and the crowd had been amazing. She’d successfully avoided Trace since the incident at the diner. They’d sung The Other Side of Me together without so much as m
aking eye contact. So not a total success as far as performances went, but she’d done the best she could.
As the bus drove past the local campus, Kylie wondered briefly what her life might have been like if she’d have gone to college. Not that she ever could’ve afforded it. But it was fun to think about what it might be like if she got to pick a major or take a class on human sexuality just for the heck of it. Or art history, or film studies. It sounded kind of exciting to her.
The only frat party she’d even been to had resulted in Trace punching Steven and carrying her out over his shoulder just before she vomited all over the place.
Maybe college wasn’t for her.
As much as she often wondered what it would be like to have a life apart from touring and music and recording, she knew she wouldn’t really have it any other way. This was her dream come true. But it was a funny thing about dreams.
Without someone you loved to share them with, to be proud of you, happy for you, cheering you on, achieving them felt kind of empty.
Mia often criticized her for working too hard, but she stayed busy for a reason. It was easier that way. Easier to keep at it than to sit home by her lonesome and wish for things she’d never have.
Days when things had gone terribly in the studio, or God, that time her earpiece had malfunctioned and shot feedback through her ear and she’d screwed up on the National Anthem at a hockey game, it would’ve been really nice to have had someone to come home to. Someone to wrap her in his arms and tell her it would be okay. That these things happened and that she’d get past it.
As it was, she ended days like those alone, drinking wine from a box, fighting tears so she could see to scrawl out lyrics to songs she knew she’d never sing.
Which was pretty much what she was doing on the ride to Detroit. She leaned her head against the window when they stopped for fuel.
“Knock, knock,” she heard Steven’s voice say through the door to her room.
“It’s open,” she answered, scrubbing away residual tears and pasting a wide smile on her face.
Girl in Love Page 10