by Miles, Ava
“Shall we go downstairs?” Her suit was periwinkle blue. Her lipstick a pale plum. She looked as immaculate as ever.
“I promised Rory I’d stay close.” It wasn’t quite the truth, but she had no desire to go downstairs with this woman.
Margaret’s mouth thinned, and she quietly closed the bedroom door. “Fine, I’ll say what I want to here. At first, I blamed Rye for all the changes going on around here, but I’ve revised my opinion. I think you’re the one at fault.”
“Me?”
“Yes, Rye has thought of no one but himself since he left this family. Hampton might have decided to make amends, but Rye wouldn’t have been open to the overture without some encouragement. And his offer to help Amelia Ann and to have Tammy and the children live with him just isn’t like him.” Her hazel eyes narrowed, making her look mean and hard. “And if you have anything to do with his sudden generosity, I can promise you this. He won’t be taking my daughters away from me.”
She heard applause break out in the bedroom, followed by Rye’s warm chuckle, and she wanted nothing more than to leave his mother in the dust. “Rye’s not taking your daughters away from you, Mrs. Hollins. He’s helping them.”
“My daughters don’t need help. They’re fine the way they are.”
Could the woman not see the truth before her eyes? “They don’t seem to think so,” she said softly.
“Don’t judge me.” Her hand gripped her pearls as if she were seeking comfort from the family heirloom. “Don’t you dare judge me.”
Her vehemence made Tory’s stomach quiver.
She planted her hands on her trim waist and looked Tory up and down. “You aren’t even a lady. Trailing around after my son as his cook. I saw you last night. You rolled around with him in my back yard.” Her voice rose. “Blood always tells.”
“Mama, please,” Tammy said, appearing by their side, looking pale and exhausted. “That’s enough. There’s no call to talk to Tory like that.”
Mrs. Hollins’ huffing sound was close to a growl. “How dare you. I raised you better than to talk to your mama that way.”
Tammy flinched. “Mama, you also raised me better than to insult a guest. Tory has shown herself to be a good friend of this family, regardless of what you think. She found my son yesterday and talked him into coming home, for which she has my eternal gratitude. As for Rye, well…he’s done right by me. More than I have by him, which I hope to change now.”
When her voice started to shake, Tory reached for her hand and squeezed it tight.
Margaret’s lips quivered before she turned on her lady–like heels and walked downstairs.
“I’m sorry if she hurt your feelings,” Tammy said.
She wasn’t sure when, if ever, she’d overcome the embarrassment of knowing Margaret had seen her and Rye in the backyard, but there was nothing she could do about it. “It’s okay. She’s pretty unhappy too, don’t you think?” It was the nicest thing she could think to say, and it had the advantage of being true.
“Yes, she is,” Tammy said, “and I’m finally starting to realize it. Let’s go inside and listen to Rye. I’ve…never heard him sing in person.”
A warmth spread through Tory’s heart. The transformative power that forgiveness and reconciliation were having on this family awed her.
When she and Tammy entered the room, everyone looked over. Rye continued singing, and Tammy pressed a hand to her chest as her gaze locked on her brother. It was as if she were seeing him for the first time.
After a few more songs, Rye set aside his guitar and grabbed Annabelle, pulling her onto his lap. “We’ll have to have another concert soon, and we’ll be talking about getting you all settled in Nashville, but unfortunately, Tory and I need to go. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
She hated to leave, too, but they were going to get in pretty late.
Hampton rose and held out his hands to Tory, which she took in her own. “I hope we see each other again. You’ve been nothing but wonderful. Thank you, my dear.”
Her eyes burned as she wondered if she would ever see them again. In a few days, she’d come to care about this family, flaws and all. “You take care of yourself, Mr. Hollins.”
“Hampton, my dear,” he corrected, and he squeezed her hands as he said it.
Then he placed his hand on Rye’s shoulder. “Amelia Ann and I were talking this morning, and we were wondering if it would be all right if we came to see your last concert in Memphis. And we could celebrate your birthday together. It’s been a while since we…have.” He had to clear his throat.
It took a moment for Rye to say anything, though his Adam’s apple moved. “Of course, Daddy. It would be great to have y’all there,” he said in a hushed voice.
Hampton tugged Rye in for a hug. Tory felt tears gather in her eyes, and she noticed Amelia Ann dash away a tear.
“Thank you for coming,” the older man said hoarsely. “Thank you for everything.”
Rye nodded jerkily and turned away, only to be gathered into a fierce hug by Amelia Ann.
“I’ll see you soon. I just can’t believe I’m going to be living in the same town as you and can see you any time I want.” She wiped away more tears when he eased back.
“Me either,” he said, kissing her cheek.
Annabelle gave Rye an easy hug and laughed when he tugged on her braids. His nephew, as always, was more serious. Without moving from his place by the bed, he said, “You take care of Tory for me, Uncle Rye.”
Suddenly Tory was the one dashing away a tear.
“Let’s shake on it, son,” Rye said without trying to add any levity to the situation.
They did, and then Rye turned to Tammy. Their embrace was brief, but both smiled shyly when they gazed at each other.
“I’ll have someone contact you about packing up the house,” Rye said, stepping back. “You tell them what you need.”
“Great,” Tammy replied softly. “I think we’ll come to your concert, too.”
His eyes fairly gleamed at that. “I’d like that.”
Suddenly there was a gentle tug on Tory’s shirt. When she knelt down, Rory was in front of her, and he engulfed her in a hug. Since he wasn’t prone to shows of affection, it meant that much more.
“I’ll miss you,” she whispered, kissing his hair. In that moment, she prayed she’d be lucky enough to have a little boy like him some day.
When she rose, Tammy surprised her by giving her a brief hug, too. “I hope we’ll see you in Memphis later this summer.”
Tory swallowed thickly, and in that moment, she knew this family was going to work things out. When Rye held out his hand to her, she grasped it, and they walked downstairs together, followed by the others. When they passed the parlor, they saw Mrs. Hollins standing there at the window.
Rye paused. “Good bye, Mama.”
She didn’t acknowledge him, which filled Tory with sadness, but this time that sadness was for the frigid woman pushing her family away, not for Rye.
As they drove off, the family waving to him, she turned to him. “It won’t take me long to pack up.”
“No need. I did it for you so we could just take off,” he told her.
So, they wouldn’t be going back to the quiet little house. In many ways, their time together had been a break from reality. Here in Meade, she hadn’t felt like his employee, and he hadn’t acted like a bad–boy country singer. What was going to happen now?
“You turn off the stove?” she asked to distract herself.
“Uh…yes. Those were the best waffles I’ve ever tasted, by the way.” His hand squeezed her knee. “But I missed you this morning.”
Delight spread through her as she reached inside her bag for a book.
Suddenly she wasn’t as afraid of what awaited them when they returned.
Maybe there’s something wrong with me,
Even though you bring me to my knees.
I’ve gotta let you go.
Nothing lasts.
/> Don’t you know?
Regrets aren’t for me.
Accept me for who I am.
Or leave me be.
Doesn’t mean you’re not special to me.
This is what I am.
But I can’t help thinking,
On a cold, quiet night.
Maybe something’s wrong with me.
Rye Crenshaw’s Top Ten Hit, “Something Wrong with Me”
Chapter 17
Getting back to the grind always sucked, but add the tabloids back into the mix, and it double sucked. Rye strode into Georgia and Clayton’s bus, nodding to crew members as they called out greetings.
Georgia ended her call when she saw him. “Welcome back.”
When Clayton appeared, he took a seat next to Georgia. Rye took a deep breath and held up the gossip rag in his hand. “You plant this?” It was impossible to keep the anger from his voice.
Georgia lit a cigarette. “Clay and I were just discussing that this morning, and we were about to call you. We didn’t plant it, but the story about you taking Tory home to meet the family after your daddy’s illness is good PR. We thought Tory might have shared it.” She took a deep inhale and blew the smoke out in three rings.
Rye threw the magazine across the room. “It wasn’t her.” Not after everything they’d shared.
“Then who?” Clayton said.
“I don’t know, but you’d better find out. Check the bus for listening devices. Hell, some reporter got access to private information about my trip, and I want to know how.”
“Rye,” Georgia said, rising, “you’re not seeing straight. Who else could it be?”
“It’s not her, I’m telling you.” He wasn’t going to mention everything he and Tory had gone through together in Meade, what she’d done for his family. “It might be my brother–in–law, Sterling Morrison. There’s some bad blood between us, even though the reason for it would be more embarrassing for him than for me. Hire an investigator. Find out. Whoever it is, I want them punished.”
Georgia rose and rested her hand on her hip. “Already done. I’ve been doing this type of work since before you were born. But let me make a suggestion. You need to stop sharing anything with Tory until we know for sure. Might even be good to move her off your bus.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’ll say it again. It’s not her.”
“Okay, Rye,” Clayton murmured, ever the peacemaker.
“If we’re clear, I need some help with another matter.”
Georgia flicked ash into her butterfly ashtray. “Whatever you need, honey.”
The words wouldn’t come out at first. “I need you to secure off–campus housing for my sister, Amelia Ann, around Vanderbilt. She’s going to law school in the fall.”
Clayton’s mouth dropped plumb open.
Rye’s lungs burned, and suddenly the enormity of what he’d agreed to washed over him. “Then I need you to hire a designer to go to my house and…decorate a few rooms. One for a fancy Southern lady, one for a four–year–old girl, and the other for a six–year–old boy. And a play room. My sister and niece and nephew are coming to live with me.”
Georgia dropped her cigarette and made a dash to pick it up before it burned the rug.
“Tammy and her kids are coming to live with you and Amelia Ann is going to Vandy law school?” Clayton shook his head. “I must not be hearing right.”
“No, you are. I need everything in place shortly after the tour ends. And obviously, I need to have your ideas on how we’re going to present it to the press. My family is going to be back in my life.”
“Must have been some reconciliation,” Georgia drawled, and even her stellar poker face was blown to smithereens by this news.
“It was,” he only replied. “Now fill me in on what I’ve missed.”
When he was done, he went to find Tory. She must have seen the tabloids, too.
They hadn’t really talked since getting back last night. After a late rehearsal with the band, he’d returned to the bus with the hope of hashing some things out, but she was fast asleep. Since they hadn’t talked about continuing their relationship when they returned from Meade, he didn’t crawl into bed with her, although it had been tempting. They were back to business, but he was terrified of losing their connection.
When he stepped off the bus, he caught sight of her red shirt first. What the hell was she doing, striding across the parking lot? Panic erupted. Yeah she knew about the story if the hard clips of her steps were any indication. God, was she leaving? A cluster of fans started screaming his name from behind the barrier. He started jogging, not wanting to call out her name in case the press were around, so they could talk privately.
“Where are you going?” he asked when he caught up to her.
Her face was covered by a pair of oversized sunglasses, which she pushed up higher on her nose. He wanted to yank them off so he could see her eyes.
“I’m going to a coffee shop to work.” She gestured to her laptop case. “You should go sign some autographs.”
He took her arm and didn’t let go. “I know you saw the tabloids, and I’m as upset as you are, but I can promise you that it didn’t come from any of us.”
“Would you let go of my arm?” When he did, she tugged her bag up higher on her shoulder. “Who else could it be? How am I supposed to believe that after the way you’ve used me for press before? It’s not fair to me. And it’s certainly not fair to your family. Regardless of how much trouble your image is in.”
“I told you I never wanted anyone to know about the trip, so why would I do that?”
“Clayton and Georgia might have felt differently.”
Clearly she had thought this out.
“No, they wouldn’t go that far. Look, we have a leak, and we’re going to find it, I promise.”
“Who else knew besides you, me, your family, Clayton, and Georgia?” Then her mouth dropped open. “Oh, God, you thought it was me again.”
She marched off.
“No, I didn’t for a moment. I told Clayton and Georgia it wasn’t you,” he said and tugged on her arm so she stopped her forward march. “Will you come back to the bus so we can talk about this? We have an audience here.” His fans had their cell phones out and were snapping pictures of him.
She shook her head. “No, not right now. I need some time to think.”
He edged closer, casting a shadow over her. “Please, Tory. I don’t want you to be upset.”
“Too bad. I need a break. Back off right now.”
For once, it didn’t bother him that people were witnessing a private moment in his life. He cupped her face in his hands. She trembled, making his heart pound even faster. Didn’t she see? He hadn’t cared about someone this much in so long that he didn’t know what to do, how to act, what to say.
“Tell me how to make this right.”
She removed his hand from her face. “I don’t know. Everything’s been so… I just need some time.”
His heart hurt, and he realized she’d become a vital part of his life. And being back with the tour hadn’t changed his desire to be close to her. “I don’t want it to be like this.”
“Neither do I. I saw a side of you in Meade that made me hope there was more to you and hope for us. Then I saw the comments online about the story. People are finally taking your side. Georgia and Clayton have wanted this all along, so it’s hard not to believe this came from your people. Right now, I’m confused… And I just need you to let me go.”
Let her go? He didn’t think he could do that. But she took off, his fingers only touching her fast–moving shadow, leaving him alone in the blazing sun.
It seemed trust went two ways, and right now, he was on the losing side.
***
The coffee shop was quiet, the perfect balm for Tory. She was clicking away on her laptop, working on her outline again.
“Hey there,” a man said, making her look up. “Luke, remember? Lighting. We met—”
“At the bull riding,” she replied, falling into an easy smile as he grinned at her. “Hi. Good to see you again.”
“Looks like you’re working hard. Researching recipes for Rye?” he asked.
No, and she wasn’t planning on making him dinner tonight either. She needed some more time to work through her feelings. She wanted to believe him. His words had pulled at her, drawing her in just like those sincere hazel eyes. And while Georgia and Clayton had pushed boundaries before to get a good story, why would they accuse her if they’d done it themselves? Oh, what a mess! Right now, she had no idea what to believe.
“No,” she replied. “I’m working on something else. You in between breaks?”
“Yes,” he replied easily, taking a seat at her table. His coffee was steaming, which made her remember hers was probably cold. She’d gotten engrossed in her work, the one thing she could always count on for escape, the one thing she never had to worry about leaving her while the dear people like Rye came and went.
“So you’re just back from seeing Rye’s family, huh?” he said. “From the papers, it sounds like he’s got a lot on his plate. He’s lucky you could go with him. The whole crew’s been talking about it all day. How are you feeling, hon?”
Maybe it was because he was older, but it didn’t feel weird for him to call her that. It seemed like a fatherly thing to say. “I don’t want to talk about it. Really.” And she wouldn’t, even to Myra. After the first tabloid incident, she kept their conversations superficial, not wanting to create any more problems.
Now this.
Luke patted her hand. “You poor dear. I’ve been around Rye for years, and he’s like this incredible tornado. You can’t look away from him, but sometimes he’s, well…out of control.”
Well, if that didn’t characterize their time together, she didn’t know what did. “Well, I do come from Kansas,” she said, “so you’d think I’d be used to tornadoes.”
“Tell that to a trailer park,” Luke joked. “Listen, I need to get back, but if you want to talk about it, just call me. Let me give you my number. We all need a friend on tour, and honey, I hate to tell you this, but you look like you need one real bad.”