by Caisey Quinn
Trace raised both his eyebrows at the man across from him. Since when did Mike get all mother hen on him?
The two of them got on the bus and headed straight to the media room. Trace retrieved the bottle of water he’d crammed into the back pocket of his jeans and took a swig before he sat. He flipped open the MacBook and typed in his password. Opening the Internet browser, her smirked at Mike. Dude looked like he was waiting for the results of a pregnancy test. “Relax. I’m good.” He’d learned a long time ago not to believe the shit people said about you when you were in this business. Couldn’t even trust his own mother for God’s sakes.
He was planning to click the page he had marked for Kylie’s tour blog. But as soon as his homepage came up, he saw what Mike was so worried about.
KYLIE RYANS MOVES ON FROM TRACE CORBIN’S BETRAYAL—WITH A YOUNGER MAN.
You won’t catch Kylie Ryans crying over the news that her favorite country music man is shacking up with his new co-headliner, Gretchen Gibson. But we did catch her in Chicago tonight with fellow up-and-comer…If he wanted to read the rest, he’d have to click the link for the full article. And he damn sure didn’t want to do that.
Below the headline was a grainy photo of him and Gretchen saying goodbye at the hotel in Georgia. Next to it was one of Kylie walking down the street with a guy. The guy had his arm around her and she was laughing. She looked much happier than she had the last time he’d seen her. When he’d lost his temper and almost gotten them both arrested. Below the photos was a video link. He clicked it and instantly wished like hell he hadn’t.
There she was. In a bar. Dancing all over Steven motherfucking Blythe. She’d never danced on him like that. He closed the video and glanced back at the photo. Same tattoos, same mess of black hair on his head. Fuck.
They’d met at The Texas Player’s Club. He remembered. She’d come into the VIP room with Steven close behind. Or did they know each other before? She’d never mentioned it and he’d never asked. His fist clenched. To hell with this. He slammed the computer shut.
Mike was on him in an instant. “Okay, now you’re the one who needs to relax.”
“I am relaxed.” He took a few deep breaths to calm his pounding heart. He felt his jaw clench and flex. “It is what it is. She can hang out with anyone she wants. I’m not her fucking keeper.”
“Okay,” Mike said warily. “So you’re cool and you’re not going to drink?”
“Naw, I’m good,” he lied. “But thanks for the high school girl intervention. Much as I’d love to stay up late so you can paint my fingernails and shit, I’m going to take a shower and get some sleep.”
“You hungry? We’re gonna grab some burgers at a local joint before we head out.”
“I’m good. Thanks though.”
“Seriously. Come with us. You need to get some air.”
Trace glared up at him. “You’re replaceable. It’d take one phone call.”
The other guy shook his head. “Corbin, don’t do this. Call Dr. Reynolds. Take a walk. Call her and find out what’s going on. Don’t sit here and work yourself up and end up drink—”
“Get the fuck off my bus, Mike. If you want to keep your job, that is.”
He gave his bass player exactly one minute to clear off the bus before he pulled up the pictures again. And that video. Jesus Christ that video. He glared at the screen until his eyes burned.
When he couldn’t take any more, he slung the computer into the cabinets across from him. The noise wasn’t nearly as satisfying as what he craved. He stood, not to retrieve the computer, but to grab a bottle from his liquor cabinet. Which was empty. No way I drank them all. Someone had taken his liquor. Except the only person who’d ever done that hadn’t been on his bus in over a month. He closed his eyes, planning to count, to do some deep breathing. To try and remember how in the hell he’d gone through that many bottles of bourbon without realizing it. But all he saw was the girl he loved in another man’s arms. Her body pressed against his for the world to see.
This was his fault. He knew that. He deserved this. For not telling her he loved her when he had a chance. For not ever saying the words she needed to hear to know it was him and her and no one else. He’d never be able to erase those images from his mind. Not without help. So he headed into Gretchen’s room.
“IF YOU wanted to see my panties, all you had to do was ask.” Her low, throaty voice interrupted his search.
He slammed the dresser shut and glared at her. “Where is it? I know you have some.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She widened her eyes, feigning an innocence she wasn’t capable of. She was still worked up and sweaty from performing. Or maybe from screwing a roadie. He didn’t know and he didn’t care.
“Just tell me where it is, dammit!” He’d turned the entire bus upside down looking for her stash.
Gretchen stepped towards him. “What the hell is your problem? I told you, I’m not going to fuck up any more shows or whatever the hell you’re worried about. I’m going to do the best I can before I leave for Dallas. I’ve been talking to Dr. Reynolds and—”
“I’m not worried about you,” he said, immediately wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. That would’ve been the perfect way to play it. Like he was just confiscating her alcohol for her own good. Not because he needed a drink more than his next breath. The images of Kylie laughing as she strolled down the street with Steve, a kid he’d known since the little fucker was in middle school, were assaulting the shit out of him. The memory of what he’d seen, her writhing and grinding on him while he played guitar on stage, was driving him fucking mad. They were the kind of images a man couldn’t shake. Or forget. Unless he burned them out with hard liquor.
“What’s going on, Tray?” Gretchen took another step closer. She hadn’t called him Tray in years. He didn’t like it.
“Nothing. I’m just…getting the alcohol off the bus. Removing temptation.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“Hmm. Temptation. Now there’s something I can understand.” She advanced on him until they were close enough to touch. “I don’t know what has you all worked up, but I’d be happy to help you—”
“The only thing I want help with is finding where you’re hiding your liquor. I know it’s in here somewhere.”
Gretchen cocked her head. “You really trying to get rid of it, or you just have a hankerin’ for a drink?”
His face must’ve given him away because she smiled before he answered. Moving past him, she leaned over behind her bed. He knew she was taking her time to make sure he got a nice long view of her ass. His patience was running out. “Just give it to me.”
“I’d be happy to give it to you,” she said, licking her lips as she handed over the dark bottle. It was a half-empty pint of Jack. Or half-full, depending on how you looked at it. Thank fuck.
“Pass.” Trace took the bottle greedily and all but ran from her room.
TRACE’S SONG, Waitin’ for You to Call, was playing in her dream. They were singing it together at the Rum Room. His stormy eyes were bearing down into hers and she just wanted to grab him and hold on tight.
Softly, she began humming the tune in her sleep.
“Answer your fucking phone, Oklahoma,” Mia’s sleepy voice demanded.
Her eyes flew open. Where the hell was she?
She sat up and glanced around. Oh yeah, she was in a hotel room in Chicago with Mia and Lily. They’d had a cot brought up but Mia had been out with Steven and his band so Kylie and Lily got dibs on the beds. Obviously Mia had come in too tired to care where she slept because she was in bed with Lily. Trace’s song was still playing. The alarm clock on the nightstand read 3:46. She grabbed her phone, yanking it free of the charger and praying everything was okay.
“Hello?” she said quietly as to not wake Lily or piss Mia off further.
“Hello yourself.”
“Trace? Are you okay?” She sat up and put her feet on the floor. Except the floor grunted and
moved. She squealed.
“Shh, calm down,” Mia hiss-whispered. “They were sleeping in their van so I told them they could bunk with us tonight. Chris got the cot and the other two are on blankets on the floor. You just stepped on Steven probably.”
“Great.”
“What’s great?” Trace asked, slurring his words a bit as he did. Jesus, was he drunk? The likelihood that he’d been out drinking with Gretchen made her feel woozy, and she stumbled once more in the darkness.
“Um, I just tripped over Steven. Or someone.”
“What?” He was full out roaring at her now.
“Nothing. Never mind. What’s going on, babe? Is something wrong?” She stepped carefully over the bodies in the floor and made her way into the bathroom. She closed the door behind her and turned on the fan so everyone wouldn’t hear her conversation.
“Let’s see. What could possibly be wrong? Well, for one, I had the pleasure of watching you shake your ass all over Steven online. And now he’s in your hotel room in the middle of the fucking night. So maybe you can tell me what’s going on, Kylie.”
Oh, this was bad.
“Um, well we ran into—”
“You know what? Why don’t I tell you how it looks from my end instead? Because to me, it looks like you’re pissed that I had to deal with Gretchen when I should’ve been paying attention to you. So now you’re making sure you get my full attention by fucking someone else. The pictures were great, by the way, but you outdid yourself with the video.”
She literally seethed in anger. It rose up inside of her, lighting her on fire from her feet to her head. She ground her teeth together and did her best to keep her voice down. “I don’t know what in God’s name you’re talking about. But I do know that if you ever accuse me of fucking anyone else, then we will be done. That’s bullshit and you know it. I’ve only been with you. Ever. If you want to talk about people with a history of fucking anyone who—”
“Wow, resorting to throwing my past in my face. Nice. Clearly you have nothing to hide.”
“I don’t have anything to hide, thank you very much. What the hell is wrong with you? Are you drunk?”
For a moment, the other end of the line was silent and she worried he’d hung up. Adrenaline was pumping through her so fiercely she knew she’d never get back to sleep. Damn him.
“What makes you think I’m drunk?” he asked, his voice slightly softer than before.
“You’re slurring your words…and you’re being that guy again. The one you were before.” Sobs began to choke her. This was her worst nightmare. They were miles apart and he was drunk. On a bus with another woman. One who looked at him like he was filet mignon and she was starving to death.
“I’ve always been that guy, Kylie Lou. Always will be.”
Tears gathered in her eyes, blurring her vision. Not that she could see much in the dark anyways. “No, Trace. That’s not true. You’ve been better—things have been better. Haven’t they?” Had they? She didn’t know really, since she’d hardly seen him.
“No they haven’t,” he said, clearing his throat loudly in the phone.
“I’ll call the Vitamin Water people and tell them I need a few days to deal with a personal issue. I’m going to meet you wherever you are and we can talk about everything in person. Just please, please don’t drink anymore tonight, okay?”
“No.” His voice was hard and eerily calm.
Dread skittered across her skin and the blood rushed from her head. She clutched the counter for support. “No I can’t come or no you won’t stop drinking?”
“Both,” he said just before the line went dead.
WHEN MIA and Lily appeared in the doorway and the light flipped on, she was crouched on the closed toilet seat. Violent sobs racked her body until it was hard to breathe. She’d tried so hard to keep them quiet as to not wake the others. Obviously it hadn’t worked. Yet another thing she’d failed at.
“Kylie?” Lily whispered. “You okay?” She looked up to see the girl’s face bathed in fluorescent light and shock.
Happy now? Now I’m the one crying in the damned bathroom. She’d been the strong one. She’d been the calm one. She’d been the one to comfort everyone else. To take the insults and the hatred aimed at her without flinching. And now she was the one falling the fuck apart.
“What did he do?” Mia asked, barely loud enough to hear.
Kylie swiped her hands across her face, as if removing the evidence of her breakdown would help anything. “N-Nothing. He just saw some pictures and a video someone posted of us tonight and he got…” She was interrupted by her own shuddering sob. “Upset.”
“I shouldn’t have invited the guys to stay tonight. I’m sorry.” Mia’s pained expression said the apology was genuine.
She waved her hand before using it to wipe her eyes and nose again. “It wasn’t just that. I mean, it didn’t help, but you couldn’t have known. But if anyone finds out they stayed then…” God. She didn’t even want to think about what the media would say. Or how it would affect Trace. Or poor Steven. She was hazardous to everyone apparently.
She took the Kleenex Lily had pulled from the dispenser on the bathroom sink. Looking up into their worried sympathetic faces, she felt pathetic. She’d become the lovesick friend crying over a man. Dreams do come true.
“Was he drinking?”
Kylie felt her nerves prickling at Mia’s question. But it was a fair one. She did her best to shrug. “I think so.”
“Did he break up with you?” Lily asked, her eyes becoming moist as if this really mattered to her.
The words seared a hole into her chest. Because she didn’t know the answer. She blew her nose into the Kleenex. “I don’t know. He didn’t say that exactly, but he was mad. Like, raging mad.” And drunk. And he’s not answering my calls, she thought but didn’t say out loud. “Go back to bed. I’m fine. I’m going to get cleaned up and get some rest.” She stood, thankful that they nodded and turned to leave. But she wasn’t fine. Nowhere near it actually.
“KYLIE, JUST call Cora and have her release a statement saying you have the flu and had a bad reaction to the medicine.” Mia was steering her away from the stage. She’d bombed. Bad. Her first few songs had gone okay. Then she’d gotten distracted by a guy in a blue plaid shirt in the crowd and whiffed on her own lyrics. “Me and Lily will close together. You’ve done it for us, we can do it for you.”
“I-I’m okay. I’m fine.” She pulled her phone from the pocket of her jeans. Nothing. Not a single call or ‘I’m sorry’ text from him. Just their faces pressed together in the picture she’d taken the night of their date in Atlanta.
“You keep saying that. But you’re one of the best performers I’ve ever seen. I say that because it’s true. I don’t even fucking like you, so I won’t bother lying to make you feel better. You were a robot out there. Or a zombie. Or a zombie robot. Shit, I don’t know, but that was bad.”
“Gee, thanks.” She sighed. Why wouldn’t he just freaking call already? Couples fought. It was a part of life. But she had some things to say, dammit. And she wouldn’t be able to think of anything else until she said them. She dialed his number again and it went straight to voicemail.
Mia snatched her phone away. “Look, I’m going to give you a pass this one time. Because I’ve been there and a broken heart sucks. But tomorrow night, in Nashville, you need to suck it up and get yourself together. Okay?”
Her hand flew to her chest without her even meaning for it to. Was her heart broken? Dull ache? Check. Sickening stomach-plummeting feeling every time she thought about his hateful words on the phone? Check. Dizziness and nausea when she considered the many horrific things that could’ve happened between him and Gretchen when he was drunk last night? Check. Okay, maybe Mia was onto something.
She felt the corners of her mouth turning down. “I don’t want to be this girl,” she choked out over the lump in her throat. The sympathy in Mia’s eyes was too much so she closed her own.
> “Shh, I know. I know you don’t. Just go back to the bus and get some rest.”
“How did this happen to me?” Suddenly it seemed like Mia had all the answers.
The brunette bit her lip and nodded to someone over Kylie’s head. “You fell in love. Love is a mean bastard. That’s precisely why I avoid it.”
She would’ve laughed if it weren’t such a painful truth. “I don’t know if he’s in love back, you know? Maybe it’s just me.”
Mia sighed. “I have to go on stage. Like now. But listen, I doubt he would’ve been all that upset last night if he didn’t care about you. Hell, anyone with a pair of eyes can tell he cares about you. But sometimes that’s just not enough.” The girl’s intense gaze met hers. She stared hard for a second as if she wanted to make sure her words were getting through. “You need to ask yourself how important this relationship really is to you. Because from what I’ve seen these past few months, loving Trace Corbin might cost you your career. Your dream.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. It stabbed at her already aching chest. “I can’t argue with that, which is saying something.” She tried to force a laugh, but with the knot wedged in her throat, it came out sounding strange. “But I don’t know if I can let him go. In fact, I’m almost positive I can’t. I tried once before.”
Mia sighed and cocked her head. “Why not? I mean, what’s so great about him? Really?”
She closed her eyes for a moment as she contemplated her answer. He wasn’t perfect. But neither was she. She almost smiled as she pictured herself in his arms in Macon. “You know that feeling, when you’ve had the worst day of your life and it seems like the universe is out to get you? And then you get home and as soon as you walk through the door it’s like you’re shutting all of that out? The heavens smile on you and you get all cozy in the tub or bed or whatever and all that bad stuff just melts away? ‘Cause you’re in your safe place?”
Kylie opened her eyes and watched as Mia’s brow scrunched in response. “Yeah? So?”