Girl in Love (38 page)

Her fists clenched at her sides. “You know, that’s funny, considering all Trace has ever had in his life, thanks to you, is disappointment.”

She pulled in as much air as she could in preparation for letting this woman have it. The love she felt for Trace surged in her chest, and she was overcome by an intense urge to hit something. The emotions rushing through her were too much to contain.

“I bet he was
disappointed
that his mother subjected him and his sisters to someone who was violent and vile and abusive. And I bet he was really
disappointed
when that same mother couldn’t support his dream and his decision to move to Nashville. Especially since he’d given up the whole first part of his life to protect everyone else. And you know, I happen to know firsthand from personal experience that he was pretty damn
disappointed
when the same woman who couldn’t support his dream didn’t waste a minute cashing in on his success by airing his personal nightmare in her very own tell-all book. So pardon me if I don’t give a single solitary damn about your opinion of how well Trace handles disappointment.”

Trace’s mom’s eyes were wide as Kylie bore down on her. She opened her mouth to speak, but Kylie didn’t much care what she had to say. So she continued on with her speech.

“And if you think loving Trace is a mistake, I suggest you keep it to yourself or save it for your next book. Feel free to mention my daddy issues. Because, yes, I do love Trace even more because he reminds me of the absolute best man I’ve ever known.” She pulled in a breath. “Trace is a lot like my father was, in that he’s loving and kind and selfless and strong. He’s the kind of man who would give up everything he had for the people he loves. And a man who gets help when he needs it. And he is
nothing
like
his
father.” She shook her head, unable to process how Trace’s mom could even think there was any comparison. “Trace would walk through fire before he hurt me or Claire Ann or Rae. Hell, probably even you. So for future reference, if your opinion of Trace is
anything
other than that you are damn fortunate to even exist on the same planet as him, I suggest you refrain from sharing it in my presence. And you can quote me on that.”

“Okay, Hothead. I think she gets it.”

Kylie turned around to see Trace fighting back a grin.

He held up her cell phone. “You forgot this.”

Her face began to burn as she realized he’d probably caught the majority of her outburst. But for the first time in a long time, she felt like herself again.

A sheepish smile snuck across her face and she bit her lip. “Um, your mom and I were just—”

“About to duke it out in the hospital parking lot?”

Kylie shrugged and took another step toward him. “Something like that.”

Neither of them even looked up as his mom passed them and disappeared through the hospital doors.

“You really believe all that stuff you said?”

“Of course I do. It was all the truth.” She kissed him softly on the lips. “I’m sorry I lost my temper. She just said some really ugly things and I couldn’t—”

“It’s okay, darlin’. I’m well versed in her lack of faith in me. I read the book.” He wrapped his arms around her and she pulled him even closer.

“Well, I have enough faith in you for everyone. To hell with her.”

His lips crashed down on hers and she felt her knees go weak. It took all of her self-control to let him go when the shuttle arrived to take her to her truck.

“Come home soon, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

A
FTER A
long, hot shower—one in which she found herself assaulted by the sensual memories of Trace making love to her in the very same shower—Kylie felt slightly more human. She’d gotten to talk to Rae on the phone, and hearing that she still sounded like herself, albeit a very tired and slightly medicated version of herself, made her feel somewhat better.

She snuggled down in Trace’s bed in hopes that he would be home soon. The past few days and then the run-in with his mom had left her feeling bereft and alone in the great big farmhouse. She needed him. Needed him badly.

It felt selfish, considering she knew that his family needed him just as much, if not more. But every time she glanced at her phone and saw the many messages and demands of the outside world, a clawing ache began to gnaw at her insides.

She’d spent the majority of the evening on the phone with Jane and Hannah and Chaz. Like it or not, she had one more day until she had to be in Oklahoma to resume the tour. It was either that or lose the label’s support on her next album and all the credibility she’d worked so hard to get.

The thought of leaving Trace, of finishing the tour without him, made her sick to her stomach. She knew exactly who the label had chosen to replace him and she’d be damn if she would sing the song she and Trace wrote together, with him.

Memories of the past and dreams of a future she rarely let herself imagine came to life all around her. She needed him to touch her, kiss her, to soothe that clawing ache inside. To return them to the private bliss they’d been wrapped in before police had come knocking on the bus door.

For so long she’d tried so hard to block those memories of her time with Trace in Macon. So much so that they’d begun to fade, making her fantasies less vivid. But being in his bed brought them back in full effect.

She was still reaching for him, surrounded by the ghosts of their past, when she drifted off to sleep.

“I
T’S KIND
of hard to explain. Things got crazy and I haven’t exactly had time to tell her yet.”

Trace’s voice roused Kylie from unconsciousness. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. It was barely daylight, and she wasn’t sure if she’d slept for a few hours or a few days. But she was in his bedroom. In his shirt. Which was her absolute favorite place to be.

Right up until a woman’s voice made its way to her ears.

“Well I’m thinking you’re out of time, Tray.”

It wasn’t Rae or Claire Ann, which she didn’t expect it to be since Rae still had at least one more day to stay in the hospital according to Trace.

Kylie grabbed her jeans and yanked them on.

I don’t bring women here
. He’d told her that the first time she had come to the farm. And she’d believed him. But maybe things had changed, because even though Kylie couldn’t tell whose voice it was, whoever Trace was arguing with quietly in the next room was decidedly female.

She ran her fingers through her hair and stepped out of the bedroom.

“Hey, I thought you’d be back sooner…” Her voice failed her as soon as she saw the two people embracing in the kitchen. “Oh. God. Wow. Okay, well, I was just—”

“Kylie,” Trace began while hastily removing himself from Gretchen Gibson’s arms. “Good. I’m glad you’re up because we need to talk about—”

“Yeah. Um, actually I’ve been talking to Hannah and the label and I really need to go because I have like no time to get to Oklahoma. So I’m glad you’re here and I didn’t have to leave a note.”

The words tumbled over each other as her mind raced, trying to process the real-life version of the nightmare she’d been living for the past year. She prayed on everything holy that the feeling of blood rushing from her head wouldn’t cause to pass out. Because this was humiliating enough as it was.

This wasn’t a grainy cell phone photo in a cheap tabloid magazine or a pixelated image on a website. This was the real deal. Live and in person.

Adding insult to injury, Kylie looked and felt like week-old run-over garbage while Gretchen Gibson looked amazing. She was practically gleaming as she stood there looking from Kylie to Trace and back again.

Surprise, annoyance, and something akin to amusement sparkled in the woman’s eyes.

There is something I should tell you. Something about Gretchen.

“Kylie, wait. Slow down,” Trace began, coming toward her as she snatched her keys and cell phone from the kitchen counter. But she couldn’t hear him. She could only hear the memory of him trying to tell her something she didn’t want to hear.

“I’m gonna run by the hospital and say goodbye to Rae.” She swallowed hard and did her best to keep her grip on what was left of her dignity. “Great seeing you again, Gretchen.”

She let Trace’s back door slam behind her. Running to her truck, she ignored the way the wind ripped through her thin shirt. Just like she was ignoring the way it carried his voice calling her name.

H
ER TEARS
were nearly blinding her by the time she hit the main road.

The voice in her head screamed obscenities and for her to turn around and face whatever was going on with Trace and Gretchen. Force it all out in the open.

But she just…couldn’t.

She’d walked away from her career, her dream, her managers, her label, her band, her best friend—all of it. Thrown caution to the wind to be with him. To be here for him because she thought he needed her.

And for what? So he could offer to let her be girlfriend number two?

There has to be an explanation for why she’s here.

But she couldn’t figure out what it could possibly be. The way they were hugging…Granted, it wasn’t like he’d had his tongue down Gretchen’s throat, but there was
something
there. Something deep and complex. Something she didn’t know about or understand.

How could I have been so damn stupid?

Her hand smacked the steering wheel hard enough to make the truck swerve off the road. She hit the brakes and felt the skid of tires on gravel.

She jerked the truck into park and jumped out to make sure she hadn’t flattened a tire or hit anything. Kicking a back tire that thankfully wasn’t damaged, she broke down in sobs on the side of a deserted Georgia road.

The sound of a truck approaching and coming to an abrupt stop startled her. She swiped her tears swiftly, expecting to wave off whoever it was and let them know that she was fine.

Trace jumped out of the old blue truck, leaving his door hanging open, and stalked toward her.

“What the fuck, Kylie? What happened to not running out on each other?”

“I’m fine,” she lied. “Leave me alone.” Turning away from the swirling storm of a mess of a man and heading for the safety of her truck, she reached for the door. His hand covered hers and tore it from the handle.

“No I damn sure will not leave you alone. Did that once, remember?” He yanked her wrists back and pulled her to his chest.

She slapped at him as hard as she could in an attempt to break free but he didn’t even flinch.

“Fucking hit me. You know I can take it.” He pressed her up against the truck. “But don’t run out on me like that. That, I cannot fucking take.”

She held her body rigid to keep it from melting into his the way it wanted to. “W-what is she doing here, Trace? Why is she here? What happened to
I don’t bring women here?
There a benefit concert happening later that I don’t know about?”

She hated the way she sounded, the way she crumbled in his arms, the way he—and only he—had the ability to reduce her to this. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t the Kylie Ryans she wanted to be. She wanted to be a serious musician, the kind of girl who could handle anything that came her way. Not a simpering mess of someone’s sort of girlfriend.

The words of a warning Pauly Garrett had given her a long time ago whipped through her head.

If you want to be Kylie Ryans, country music artist who gets taken seriously, it would be unwise to align yourself with an already established artist in any way other than professionally. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen. Now, if you want to be Kylie Ryans, Trace Corbin’s little sideshow fling, then by all means…

Trace released one of her wrists to run a hand through his hair. “She just…showed up. It’s complicated. And it’s not entirely my story to tell. But it’s not what you’re thinking. I swear it’s not.”

She glared at him, pulling her hands away and folding her arms across her chest. “How am I supposed to know that, Trace? To believe that?”

“Kylie Lou,” he coaxed, his pleading tone threatening to penetrate her resolve. “Baby, please,
please
don’t—aw, hell,” he said, giving up and cutting himself off to lift her into his arms and slam his mouth down onto hers.

The anger and the jealousy they both carried collided, and she took the punishing kiss he gave. Her fingers clutched at him, tearing at his hair and neck as she wrapped her legs around him.

His teeth scraped her lips and she whimpered in pleasure. Sucking his bottom lip into her mouth—tasting him and letting him drink his fill of the deep ache she still had for how badly she’d needed him to come home and make love to her the night before—was an enticing torture.

“You need me inside you, pretty girl? Right here?” Trace mumbled against her mouth as he tightened his grip on her ass. “Bet I can fuck any worries you have about any other women right out of that tight little body of yours.”

“Trace,” she breathed, unsure of what she wanted at that moment. Kylie tilted her head back, giving him the access to her throat his mouth was demanding. His warm, wet tongue lashed up her throat, sending a jolt of pleasure through her body.

“I’ll beg, baby,” he said into her ear. “I’ll get on my knees if you’d like.”

“W-we can’t,” she said, her voice quaking as her thighs did. “We have to stop.”

“Like hell we do.” Trace began walk toward his truck, still holding her to him in midair and claiming every inch his mouth could reach.

Panic gripped her even more tightly that he did. If they made it to the cab, she’d let him screw her right then and there. And then what? She’d head back out on tour while he went home to Gretchen?

“Stop.” She used all of her strength to grab his shoulders. “I’m serious. Please. Please, put me down.”

He leaned her against the side of his truck and let her down gently. His head fell forward onto her shoulder and she shivered from the heat of the ragged breaths he breathed into her ear.