by Caisey Quinn
She felt the low rumble of his chuckle against her bare skin.
She made the tremendous effort to rise up and glare at him. She pinched his bare side. Hard. “I’m serious.”
“Ouch. I know, Hothead. I know you are.” He kissed the top of her head and gave her a reassuring squeeze as she returned to her restful position. “Trust me. Losing you was the worst fucking thing I’ve ever lived through—and for me, that’s saying something. I won’t intentionally do that to myself ever again.”
She didn’t know if it was his postcoital honesty, her own recently exposed emotions, or the reminder of the nickname he’d given her, but tears began to slip from her eyes.
“Hey, hey,” he began softly. “None of that.” Trace wiped her tears with his thumb and leaned down to press his lips to hers. “I’m so sorry I hurt you, pretty girl. Believe me, I hurt myself pretty good too.”
“Yeah, well…” she paused to sniffle in an attempt to suck it up before she became an ugly-crying mess. “Don’t do it again.”
“I swear, baby. I will try my absolute damnedest not to.”
She snuggled back down into his arms. Minutes or hours might have passed, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was safe and happy with the man she loved, and it was like…like going home after being away for far too long.
“Babe?” He traced a slow circle on her back with a calloused finger.
“Hmm?”
“There is something I should tell you. Something about Gretchen.”
Kylie froze. Her body went from a warm, boneless heap to a tight, rigid bundle of nerves. She wanted her warm and fuzzies back.
“Trace, whatever it is, let’s just not right now. Okay?”
This was their place, their private reunion, and no one else was invited. Damn sure not Gretchen Gibson.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “I guess I won’t ask about Rocker Boy either. Not that I even really want to know.”
Kylie took a deep breath. She’d hoped after tonight there wouldn’t be anyone else between them. But it looked like that might’ve been too much to hope for.
“He and I never did what you probably think we did.” She drew a heart with her pointer finger on Trace’s chest.
She felt him raise his head to look down at her. “Seriously? Never?”
“Nope. Not even once.”
“Huh.” She smiled as he relaxed beneath her. “Well now I feel kind of bad for slugging him.”
“Oh, I mean, we did stuff. Just not that.”
“And magically my remorse is gone.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. Boys.
A violent knock at the bus door startled them both.
“What the hell?” Trace sat up, and so did she. “I told everyone I didn’t want to be disturbed.”
“Trace! Trace, it’s Pauly. I need you to open up if you’re in there,” she heard Pauly Garrett yell from outside the bus between the pounding knocks. “It’s important.”
“Shit,” Trace mumbled as they pulled themselves from the warm bed. “What now?”
They dressed as quickly as they could. Kylie couldn’t find her underwear so she slid her jeans on over her bare skin. She located her bra but couldn’t find her shirt anywhere. Trace handed her his. She buttoned it hurriedly as they headed to the door.
“I hope everyone’s okay. What do you think is going on?”
“No idea,” Trace answered. “But there are cops out there.” He pulled back from the window and reached for the door. “You got warrants out, baby?”
She laughed. “Oh yeah. Tons.” But the smile fell from her face when she saw the grave expression on Pauly’s.
Kylie watched from behind Trace as Pauly introduced the two uniformed police officers.
“What’s going on?” he asked, pulling his white T-shirt on over his head.
His manager looked ten years older than usual. And Kylie suspected it wasn’t just because he’d been woken up in the middle of the night.
Something was wrong. Something bad. She’d been in this exact situation before when they came to tell her and Darla that her dad had been killed. She didn’t know if the next words were actually said out loud or an echo from her memory.
“There’s been an accident.”
TRACE BARELY resisted the urge to throttle someone until he got some answers.
“What kind of accident? Who? Where?” He looked from Pauly to the uniformed officers next to him. He was vaguely aware of Kylie’s arms wrapping around his waist.
He didn’t have to ask if it was bad. That much he could tell from the grief etched in his manager’s features.
“Trace,” Pauly said evenly. “It’s Rae.”
The blood drained from his face to his toes instantly. A wounded sound came from beside him. Kylie’s body sagged forward. He was barely able to hold himself up, much less her. But he did the best he could.
“What happened to her? Goddammit, Pauly, tell me what the hell is going right this fucking minute.”
“She was in a car accident. I really think it’s better if you just—”
He opened his mouth to yell, but a solid hand on his chest stopped him.
“What condition is she in and where is she?” Kylie interrupted. “And how soon can we get there?”
A million thoughts ran through his head. None of which he could articulate. He was thankful that she could ask the right questions.
“She was with some friends. They were in a head-on collision in downtown Atlanta. She’s at Emory and she’s critical.”
“I have to go,” he said, charging forward, not knowing how he could get there but feeling like he could sprint the whole damn way if he had to.
“There’s a flight in the morning. I’ve booked you on the eight a.m. The officers are going to give you an escort to the airport and a car will meet—”
“How long would it take to drive?” Kylie asked.
“Around six to seven hours,” Pauly answered. “But she’s in surgery and they’ll be keeping her sedated so she won’t know you’re there until tom—”
“I have my daddy’s truck. We could get on the road right now,” she offered.
Trace turned and looked into her wide, tear-filled eyes. “Get the truck, but you’re staying. We can’t both leave.”
“He’s right, Kylie,” Pauly added. “We can release a statement saying Trace had a family emergency, but you can’t both ditch the tour.”
He felt her fingers dig into his arms. “You are my family.” The conviction in her voice staggered him.
He pulled her to him. “I know, Kylie Lou. And you’re mine. But Rae needs me now and I have to go. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“You go I go, Trace. I care about her too.” His chest ached at the way her voice broke.
“Mr. Corbin?” one of the officers broke in. “We can escort you as far as the state line. 78 East is going to be your best bet.”
Kylie took advantage of the distraction and pulled away from him, moving past all of them. He heard her urgent voice telling someone on the phone to bring her truck around immediately.
“Sounds good, officers. Thank you.” He looked over at his manager. “Pauly, I’m going. And odds are, she’s going too. Tell the band I’m sorry and I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”
His manager nodded and stepped away from the officers. He signaled with a discreet nod for Trace to do the same so he did.
“Look, this might be it for you with the label. Unless you’re willing for the details of Rae’s accident to be made public. I don’t know how else to cover for you this time.”
“Details?”
“She was driving. It looks like there was alcohol involved. The girl that was with her is in bad shape. Might not make it through the night.”
He ran a hand through his hair and resisted the urge to pull it the hell out in frustration.
“Jesus.”
Pauly looked him in the eyes. “I’m not trying to keep you from going. I know you
have to go. I just want you to know what it might mean. For both of you,” he said, tilting his head toward where Kylie stood waiting.
“I’ll call you as soon as I know something,” Trace said quietly. The man with Kylie’s truck had pulled up. She tossed the keys to him and he caught them.
He watched Pauly walk around the hood and say something to her. She smiled weakly as she nodded. For a split second, he was torn. He wanted her to come, he did. She was right. She was as much a part of his family as Rae or Claire Ann was. But once again, being a part of his life was going to fuck up hers.
His eyes met her panicked ones over the hood of the truck.
“Kylie, I promise, I’ll be okay. You can stay and I swear I’ll keep you posted on every single thing that hap—”
“Get your tight-jean-wearing ass in this truck right this damn instant, Trace Corbin. Every second you waste arguing with me is a second we aren’t there.”
Her voice was thick with emotion. Judging from the blazing determination in her glare and her stance, he knew it was time to do as she said or else. He might could dominate her in the bedroom, but that was about it.
This was his girl. She was still his Kylie Lou.
Trace shot a helpless look at Pauly who gave him a what-can-you-do look and shrugged.
“Okay. Here we go.”
FOUR HOURS in, Trace was extremely grateful she’d come along. He refused to let her drive because he could see the bone-deep exhaustion weighing on her. But she’d been the one checking in with Claire Ann every half hour, and each time they stopped for gas, she grabbed him a large black coffee and every snack food she could carry.
He didn’t have an appetite, but the coffee was a lifesaver.
The sun came up as they crossed into Georgia. He pulled his sunglasses on and winced at the skull-shattering headache the glare caused.
Kylie’s voice was soft in the cab. “What you’re imagining is probably ten times worse than it actually is.”
He tried to take a breath. Ever since the words It’s Rae had dropped like concrete bricks from Pauly’s mouth, Trace had felt like they’d landed on his chest.
“You’re probably right. It’s just…” He couldn’t talk about it. Talking about it made it real. Made it terrifying and made him want a drink. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles went numb. “If anything happens to her, I swear—”
“She’s a tough girl, Trace. She’s going to be fine.” She placed her hand firmly on his knee.
She sounded like she really believed that. So for the rest of the drive, he focused on making himself believe it too.
“HANNAH, I don’t know what to tell you other than I’m sorry. I have to be with Trace right now and I’m not at liberty to explain. All I can tell you is he had a family emergency and I need to be here.”
The exasperation her manager felt was palpable even through the phone.
Kylie had talked to Hannah and Lulu both several times since arriving in Georgia. She’d told Lu the actual truth, but Hannah she had to be vague with. The one thing Trace had made adamantly clear was that under no circumstances of any kind were the details of Rae’s accident to make it to anyone who might leak it to the label or the media.
“Chaz is not happy, Miss Ryans. The label is going to be even more upset. This just isn’t done. Unless you yourself are dying or someone close to you is dead, there isn’t a family emergency big enough to justify disappearing in the middle of the night.”
Kylie’s brain seemed to have switched places with her heart, as there was steady throbbing coming from inside her head.
“I know, Han. Believe me, I know. Just…do what you can. Call Jane Bradford and tell her I’ll be in touch.”
“The show in Oklahoma City this weekend is sold out. What am I supposed to say is your reason for canceling it?”
Kylie closed her eyes, thankful that Hannah couldn’t see her She was pretty sure this wasn’t going to all be over in a mere four days.
“All I can give anyone right now is two words. Family emergency. It’s all I have, Han. I’m sorry.”
The girl sighed. “Okay, Miss Ryans. I’ll do what I can.”
“Hannah?”
“Yes, Miss Ryans?”
“Please call me Kylie from now on.”
She promised she’d be in touch as soon as she could. But when she heard Trace’s voice thundering from down the hall, her conversation with her manager was forgotten. As were the other sixty-three missed calls on her phone.
“Well what do you know, exactly? Because we’ve been here for an hour and I haven’t been able to get a single straight fucking answer from—”
“Trace,” she said, effectively distracting him from the poor nurse he was yelling at. Kylie placed herself between the two of them. “Hi there,” she said, turning to the nurse behind the desk. “Kylie Ryans,” she said, extending her hand in greeting.
“I know who you are,” the nurse practically sneered as she ignored Kylie’s outstretched hand. “But this is a hospital, not the Grammys. So I can’t bump you to the front of the line on the red carpet.”
Kylie forced herself not to punch the smug woman in the face. “I apologize for our impatience. And please know, we don’t expect any special treatment. But we’re trying to locate the private family waiting area closest to where his sister is being cared for. I would appreciate it so very much if you could please help us find it so we can get out of your hair.”
The woman looked to be about Claire Ann’s age but was about fifty pounds heavier and apparently not a fan of country music. Or of the human race as a whole.
All Claire Ann’s last text had said was, Sixth Floor, which wasn’t all that helpful since the sixth floor was enormous.
The woman narrowed her eyes at both of them and clicked a few times on her keyboard.
“I don’t have a Rae Corbin anywhere in my patient list. As I told you before, go down to the Patient Information desk on the first floor and—”
“McClain,” Trace said suddenly. “I forgot she’s been using our mother’s maiden name. Her actual last name is McClain.”
The woman snorted as if she couldn’t be bothered to check again. Kylie felt Trace’s body tense beside her.
“Yes, well, be that as it may—”
“Look, lady. We get it, okay?” Kylie did her best to speak plainly through her gritted teeth. “Being a nurse is probably not the easiest job on the damn planet. Long hours, disgusting bodily fluids all over the place, and highly emotional people snapping at you every other second. And we appreciate the job that you do, believe me. But let me make this crystal fucking clear for you. I guarantee that by tomorrow morning, I can have the CEO of this hospital, who’s granddaughter happens to be a huge fan of mine, fire your ass. Effective immediately. So do us all a favor and type in Rae Michelle McClain into your computer before I have to call my good friend George and explain how horribly I’m being treated by a staff member at his hospital. Think you can handle that?”
“Here it is. R. McClain. She’s in ICU recovery room four. Waiting room’s straight down that hall on your left.”
Kylie did her best to smile sweetly. “Thank you so much for your help.”
She linked her arm in Trace’s and tugged him towards the hallway the woman had indicated.
“You really know the CEO?” he whispered from beside her.
“I saw his name on the website when I was getting the address for the GPS,” she whispered back.
He let out a small sound. She wasn’t sure if it was approval or amusement or both. She gave his arm a squeeze and looked up. His five-o’clock shadow matched the dark circles under his eyes.
When they found the door that said ICU Waiting Room, he pulled it open and she saw Claire Ann sitting in a chair, looking out a window.
The isolation of the scene, the expression of hopelessness on Trace’s sister’s face struck her hard in the chest.
It was as if she were looking at herself nearly three years ago whe
n she’d found out that her daddy was never coming home again.
“Hey,” Trace said, getting his sister’s attention. Claire Ann stood and began to cry as soon as she laid eyes on him.
Kylie let go of him so he could go to her. She wrapped her arms around herself as Claire Ann fell apart in his arms.
She lowered herself into a nearby chair and pulled her knees to her chest. Intruding on their private moment of familial grief was uncomfortable, but it was the visceral reminder of her own that felt as if it were going to crush her.
“GENERALLY THE goal is twenty-four hours after the sedation has been removed. We’ll expect her to wake up confused, disoriented. She may or may not remember the accident. It will be good for her to be surrounded by family when she comes to.”
Kylie blinked herself awake and saw the man belonging to the heavily accented voice. The doctor was an attractive Middle Eastern man who didn’t look much older than her. She sat up in the same chair she’d slept in as he explained his take on Rae’s medical condition.
“And when can we expect that to happen? How long has it been since they removed the sedation?” Trace’s eyes were shot through with busted red blood vessels, causing her to wonder if he’d ever slept at all.
“I can check with the nurse to be sure, but I believe you have another sixteen hours or so.”
“Thank you,” Claire Ann said softly.
The doctor shook Trace’s hand and gave Claire Ann a nod as he left. He paid no attention to Kylie, but she understood. She wasn’t technically family. A fact that had become increasingly clear the past twelve hours.
Claire Ann hadn’t spoken five words to her, and Trace had been occupied with doctors and comforting his sister. They’d been able to see Rae, but it was immediate family only for the time being, so Kylie was just about as useful as the piece of furniture she was slowly becoming conjoined with.
“Can I get anyone anything?” Kylie asked. It hadn’t been that long since her last coffee run, but she needed to stretch her legs.
“I’m good, baby, but thank you.” Trace kissed her softly on the cheek. “Grab yourself something, though, before I have to check you in here as a patient.”