But Loretta caught up to him before he made it to the dressing room. “Travis?”
“Loretta.” He ground out her name, doing his damndest not to look at her. He’d come in here hoping to clear his head and regroup, not battle temptation. And she was pure temptation. At this point, he wasn’t sure which was worse: the hurt she caused or the want she stirred. “Unless you’re apologizing, we’re done.”
“Give me a reason to.” It was the waver in her voice that got to him.
He froze, meeting her gaze. Something more was going on here. Not that he had the foggiest idea what that might be. What did she want from him? He needed to know. “Why does it matter?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, an impatient sound slipping through her lips. “I…I don’t know.” She glanced his way, then away. “But it does.”
Dammit all. “It’s Neurontin. For anxiety. And it helps with withdrawal too. I can pop up to three of those a day.” He watched her. “The drink? Water.” He ran his fingers through his hair, braced. “Those were the only damn cups not packed up for the move.”
A sort of stare-down ensued. It was like she couldn’t process what he’d said, like she was waiting for him to drop a punch line or brush her off. Her eyes never left his—searching. What got him the most was watching the struggle play out on her face.
“That’s it?” she asked, still wary.
He nodded.
“And tonight? You were… Well, you were there. For me.” The disbelief in her voice was a gut-punch.
His phone vibrated again. “The same way you were there for my father.” He frowned. “What is it you think I’m after?”
She shook her head, then swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” He hadn’t meant to sound so dismissive.
“No, I mean it.” She grabbed his arm. “I’m sorry. And thank you, for tonight.”
He stared down at her hand. “You’re welcome.”
The dressing room swung open and Emmy Lou peered out. “I thought I heard you, big brother. Hi, Loretta. Congratulations on the award—and the performance. You two had me sobbing.” She stepped aside, holding the door wide. “Come on in. I was just keeping Daddy company.” For a split second, Emmy’s smile faded. His little sister was worried.
“I could use a water.” Travis winked at his sister, the only reassurance he could offer up at the moment. “You?” he asked Loretta. Now that a fragile peace had been established, he was in no hurry to see her go.
As expected, Loretta hesitated. But a tentative smile formed and she nodded. “Water would be great.”
Inside the dressing room, things were crowded. Emmy Lou was hovering, doing her best to smile—even though she looked like she was close to tears.
“I’m sure Brock is missing you,” Travis said, giving his sister a one-armed hug. “I got this,” he whispered.
Their father was half-watching the television broadcast of the awards show, preoccupied by the care of his Stetson Diamante cowboy hat. It was his father’s favorite hat—and worth a damn fortune.
“See you out there, Daddy.” Emmy Lou pressed a kiss to their father’s cheek and left.
“You ready?” Travis asked. “Make sure you read the right name. People don’t like it when you call out the wrong one.”
“I’ll do my best.” Daddy chuckled. “I’m proud of you. Both of you.” His blue eyes shifted to Loretta. “I can’t imagine that was easy.”
“No, sir.” Loretta shrugged, blushing from his father’s praise. “I’ve never been so afraid of messing up onstage.”
“Sometimes the only way to face our fears is head on.” Hank smiled. “I’d say you did just that.”
“Speaking of which.” Travis cleared his throat. “Can we have a moment?” He spoke to the hair and makeup team and the stage assistant waiting to help as needed.
Loretta stood, her water bottle held close, and headed to the door.
“No, now, you can stay, Loretta. Let Travis or I take you back.” It was clear, his father wasn’t about to take no for an answer.
Because his father, the one and only Hank King, was a true gentleman. A man of his word. A family man. Loyal, to a fault.
“If you’re sure?” Loretta asked, her gaze bouncing between them.
Travis nodded. She already knew what he had to tell his father anyway. She’d been the one to spare them all a red carpet nightmare.
“What’s going on?” His father stood. “Your sister was nervous as a long-tail cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”
Travis had to chuckle. “I guess we’re all a little worried.”
“About?” His father frowned.
“Momma’s here.” Travis had to force the words out.
The subtle shift in his father’s features was telling. “Well…that’s fine.” But the words were thick, gruff. “I can’t say I’m surprised. She loves this sort of thing.”
“The attention?” Travis winced at the disapproving look his father shot him. He took a deep breath and said, “She is here with Kegan Scott.” There was no keeping the hard edge from his voice.
There was a beat of silence.
“All right.” His father did his best to put on a brave face, but his hand was shaking when he went to reach for his hat. “I appreciate the heads-up, son. Best to know now.” He stared down at his hat, turning it in his hands. “How about you two go on out, find your seats. I’ll be out in a minute or two.”
There was no way he could leave his father now. “Dad—”
“I’m fine.” His father clapped him on the back. “Go on, now.”
Bullshit. He was anything but fine. Travis turned to Loretta, at a loss, his chest growing heavier with each passing second.
She didn’t hesitate this time. Instead, she hugged his father. A fierce sort of hug. And then she slipped from the dressing room.
“Go on,” his father repeated.
Every fucking step was a struggle. Leaving went against his every instinct. He may not have always seen eye-to-eye with his father, but this wasn’t right. When the door clicked shut behind him, there a minute where Travis thought he was going to lose his shit. He shoved his hand in his pocket, but the smooth surface of the guitar pick didn’t do a thing to ease him. He wanted to blow up. He wanted to punch something—to put his fist through a wall.
“Travis.” Loretta stood just to the side of the dressing room door, one hand resting against the wall. “I’m so sorry. What can I do?”
He shook his head. Nothing. His mother had put him in a no-win situation. What other choice did he have? He’d just broken his father’s heart, and there was nothing anyone could do to fix that. He flexed his hands, helpless and furious all at once. He paced down the hall, swallowing against the jagged lump in his throat. His fingers scraped through his hair, and he stared up at the ceiling overhead. Fucking pointless.
He was clear. He knew how to take care of himself. How to protect himself. It had been a long and bumpy road, but he was in a good place. But the weekly check-ins, all the classes and counseling sessions, and a whole library of recovery and self-help books wouldn’t protect those he loved.
His phone vibrated, but he ignored it.
His father wanted Travis in the audience, so that’s where Travis would be. He turned, the pulse in his temples throbbing, to find Loretta leaning against the wall hugging herself, waiting for him.
“Ready?” he asked, more growl that actual word.
She nodded, her eyes huge and her face pale.
He didn’t pull away when her fingers threaded with his. Or when she tugged him toward her. “Are you?” She reached up, pressing her other hand to his heart.
His gaze was instantly tangled up in hers. His pain and betrayal and sadness were all there in her eyes, reflected back at him. Without a filter. She didn’t shy away. There was comfort in that. He was c
aught and she was reeling him in, but he didn’t want to fight her.
“This isn’t your fault,” she whispered.
He shut his eyes, wishing he could shut out the pain on his father’s face too. “It sure as hell feels like it.”
“It would have been so much worse if you hadn’t told him.”
Which was true. His father was a proud man. This was hard enough. Staring out over the audience and finding out that way?
Momma would love that. The drama. The reaction. There were times he wanted to shake his mother—to make her understand just how much her actions impacted the rest of the family. It was hard to believe she didn’t know exactly what she was doing; she was too smart. But the alternative, that she knowingly inflicted hurt on the people she proclaimed to be her everything? That was a damn hard pill to swallow.
He drew in a deep breath, cleared all thoughts of his mother from his brain, and focused on what happened next. That was easy. Return to the auditorium and cheer on his father. That’s what needed to happen. That’s what he would do.
The brush of her hair against his nose surprised him. When he’d moved, he wasn’t sure. But Loretta was pressed against the wall, he was pressed against her, and time came to a hard stop.
His reaction was instantaneous—desire all but grabbing him by the throat. She was…everywhere. Her breath was his. Her heartbeat matched his own. And the fire in those topaz eyes knocked the breath out of him. Hunger. Longing. Need. It would be so easy to give in to her, to this.
He leaned forward, then stopped himself. This wasn’t right. Not here. Definitely not now. But her scent had him turning into her, running his nose along her throat. The curve of her ear and the spot just behind it—breathing her in until she filled his lungs.
Her fingers went tight around his hand, a broken gasp spilling from her lips. Those lips.
One kiss. One kiss and he’d stop this. He tore his gaze from her mouth and damn near groaned at the raw hunger on her face. Her eyes flashed as she gripped the front of his tuxedo jacket, pulling him in—impatient.
One kiss wouldn’t be enough. No matter how much he wanted her, he couldn’t do this. He reached up, smoothing the hair from her shoulder. “I want to kiss you.” Her smile almost changed his mind. “But if I kiss you now, you’ll always wonder if this was my angle the whole damn time. And I’ll wonder if this is what you wanted or if I took advantage of you, because tonight… Well, tonight has been one hell of an emotional roller-coaster ride.”
She didn’t say a word.
“Loretta.” He groaned. “I’m trying to take the high road here.” He stepped back but rested his hand against her cheek.
She was having a hard time maintaining eye contact. “You’re right.”
“Just so we are clear, I plan on kissing you, Loretta Gram.” His thumb traced her cheekbone. “At the right time and in the right place.”
Now she couldn’t stop looking at him, those brilliant eyes sweeping over his face a sudden intensity. “We should get to our seats.”
It wasn’t easy to put space between them. He’d made his intentions known, but she hadn’t done the same. She led the way back to the auditorium and, once inside, it was like nothing had happened between them. She cheered when Hank King won Best Country Album of the Year. Smiled and posed for pics with his father after the awards show. But right before she left—her bodyguard blocking any interference—she did pause to say goodnight.
“It’s the right time and the right place,” she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. “Take care of yourself, Travis. Keep up the good work.”
And, just like that, Loretta Gram walked away. But he couldn’t shake the feeling she wasn’t just saying goodnight—she was saying goodbye. And, dammit all to hell, here he’d thought they were just getting started.
Chapter 5
Travis had stuck to the same routine since he’d left the Oasis. Run five miles. Weight train for forty-five minutes. Shower. Breakfast. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday were rehearsing and endurance training and whatever else he could find to keep himself occupied. Tuesday was his weekly SMART recovery meeting and Thursday he’d check in with his sobriety coach, Archie. His recovery program did more than help him stay sober; it helped him stay accountable in all aspects of his life.
He had a card with the four points printed out and in his wallet, in case he ever needed reminding. Staying motivated to change, learning to cope with urges to use, managing thoughts, feelings, and behaviors effectively and without addictive behaviors, and living a healthy, positive, and balanced life. If he was doing those four things, he was staying on track.
Overall, he’d developed a solid routine since he’d moved back home. And since he and his father had the place to themselves and, for the most part, respected each other’s privacy, life was orderly.
But in the week since the International Music Awards, privacy and order were in short supply. Every time he turned around, Krystal, Emmy Lou, and their significant others were dropping by for some reason or other. “I made too much food and didn’t want it to go to waste,” was one of Emmy Lou’s excuses. “I think I left some music in my closet,” Krystal had offered up another time. While he’d found his sisters’ increasingly creative reasons for their presence amusing, he knew they meant well. And since having them all together made Daddy happy, he figured he didn’t need his privacy all that much at the moment anyway.
This morning, he’d headed in for his regularly scheduled breakfast to a full table. His father and Sawyer sat, drinking coffee and reading the paper—like normal. But Emmy Lou and Brock and Krystal and Jace were all crowded around the large wooden farm table, talking over one another and being too loud for his liking. But since Emmy Lou had thought to bring two large boxes full of donuts, he wasn’t complaining.
As soon as he sat, he stacked donuts on his plate, and settled into his chair with a sigh.
“I picked this up last night at the check-out register.” Krystal waved an entertainment newspaper in the air.
“I don’t know which is more shocking.” Travis spoke around a mouthful of donut. “That you did your own grocery shopping or you actually bought a copy of the Star Gazette.”
Krystal pretended to scratch her nose with her middle finger.
“Krystal,” Emmy Lou chided. She’d always been the peacekeeper of the family.
“I love you too, little sister.” Travis winked, then glanced at the paper in disgust. “Pretty sure they’ve made enough money off this family without you actually buying a copy.”
“Which is what I said.” After a slight headshake, Jace sipped his coffee.
“I’m sure there was a good reason,” Emmy Lou said, defending her sister.
“I know, I know. But you said she didn’t like you,” Krystal said, tossing the gossip magazine on the table for everyone to see. “Turns out Loretta is sleeping with you and Daddy.” Then she burst out laughing.
“Oh, Krystal.” Emmy Lou shook her head. “Really?”
The donut Travis was eating stuck in his throat, forcing him to swig down his scalding hot coffee and burn his throat. He jumped up, filled a glass of water, and chugged down the contents. It had been over a week since the awards show, and he was still trying to figure out what the hell had happened. There was no denying something had happened between him and Loretta. But his father and Loretta? That was the sort of thing he didn’t need in his head.
“You okay?” Brock asked.
Travis turned to find all eyes on him. His sisters. Brock and Jace. His father. Hell, even his bodyguard, Sawyer. “I’m good.” He emptied the glass. “Donut. Coffee.”
“Slow down, son. Chew a little.” His father cleared his throat and peered over his newspaper, reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose. “As far as that…that horse crap? I’m not laughing, Krystal. She’s your age.” He coughed, shook out his paper, and
went back to reading. “That sort of thing turns my stomach.”
A crazy awkward silence followed. First, their father had all but cursed—a rarity. Second, because they all knew Kegan Scott was way younger than their mother. Unlike their father, she seemed delighted by her young boy toy.
“I think dating someone ten to twenty years younger than you is the norm for a midlife crisis, Daddy.” Krystal patted her father’s hand. “I’d say you’re due a midlife crisis. Go for it.”
Their father’s heavy sigh came from behind his newspaper.
Travis didn’t disagree with what his sister was saying, but he didn’t want Loretta Gram involved in any way, shape, or form. He refilled his coffee, returned to his seat, and shoved another donut into his mouth.
Emmy Lou sat, sipping her tea, with her cat sprawled across her lap—stomach up. “Travis, you just choked. Are you sure eating a whole donut, all at once, is a good idea?” She leaned forward to peer into the pastry box on the table.
Travis shrugged. Maybe. Maybe not. But if he even mentioned Loretta by name, he’d regret it. He didn’t want his family interfering with things he was still working through. It was safer to keep his mouth too full to talk.
“Might as well finish off the box. At the rate you and Sawyer are training out, you’ll be able to compete for Mr. Universe.” Krystal glanced at Jace. “Is there a Mr. Universe competition?”
Jace shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“Are you talking about weight lifting?” Brock sounded off.
Krystal nodded.
Sawyer took a chocolate-covered donut. “Mr. Olympia? Isn’t it?” he asked Brock.
“That’s it,” Brock agreed.
“Mr. Olympia, Mr. Universe… Whatever.” Krystal sighed. “You get what I mean. You could probably eat your weight in donuts and burn it off like that.” She snapped her fingers.
“All I’m asking is you try chewing them, okay?” Emmy Lou watched as Travis grabbed two more donuts.
“Will do.” Travis smiled.
“There’s a strawberry iced one.” Brock leaned back, draping his arm around the back of Emmy Lou’s chair.
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