Girl in Love (6 page)

Kylie took a long pull of her beer. She vaguely recalled the last article she’d seen about her and Mia getting into a screaming match about both of them being up for Breakout New Artist. They’d been joking around in a crowded bar and had to yell to hear one another. But sometimes the alternate reality the media created was better than the truth.

The truth was, Mia was a tough chick that had somehow become a friend. A damn good friend. One who was willing to accompany her to her ex-boyfriend’s house and had brought the liquid courage she needed to get through it.

Not that they didn’t still give each other constant hell. But that was the dynamic that worked for them. Just like they bossed Lily Taite around and were obnoxiously overprotective of her because she’d become the little sister neither of them had ever had.

Kylie opened her mouth to come clean with her friend about everything that had happened with Steven. To ask Mia about what was going on with her and Chris. If anything was going on. Mia was so private—it was hard to tell. But then she closed it. There was enough happening today without adding to it.

“Do you think she’ll be here?” Kylie asked quietly.

Mia was quiet for a minute. “Gibson?”

Kylie nodded.

The other girl shifted on the seat and lowered the phone she’d been texting on. “Yeah, um, I checked the website. She’s going to be here. She’s performing.”

Of course she was. Kylie fought hard to ignore the sinking pull of pain Mia’s confirmation caused. “Awesome. That’s awesome.”

She made the colossal mistake of glancing out the window. They were about fifteen minutes away from the farm.

“No offense, Oklahoma. I’m not judging your professional decisions here because I’m assuming you know what you’re doing, but why in the hell did you agree to this?”

Kylie polished off her beer and reached into the small cooler between them for another.

“Honestly? I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. Not when it comes to…this. Chaz and I talked about it. Our theory is that if there’s drama tonight between…” She cut herself off to take a deep breath. “If there’s drama between me and him, the label will feed on it and push us to tour together. But if I can suck it up and just get through this with even an ounce of my dignity intact, then hopefully they’ll see that there’s nothing here. Nothing that would be worth sending us out on tour together.”

Mia whistled low and took a slow sip of her beer. “That’s one hell of a theory. What do you think your odds of keeping your shit together are?”

A sharp left turn made Kylie look out the window once more. This was the road the farm was on. A few more miles and the car would make another left, pulling her closer. Closer to him. To the past. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes.

When she spoke, her words came out as a whisper. “Not good.”

“M
R. CORBIN
, they need to know if you want the truck by the pool or by the pond.”

Trace glanced up over the amp he carried. A twenty-something brunette with a clipboard eyed him appreciatively. “Uh, pool I guess. Pond is a littler farther out than I expect guests will want to venture.”

“Yes, sir. Got it. I’ll make sure you get what you want.” She gave him a wide-eyed look of innocence, but when the slow smile spread across her face, he saw it. That gleam in her eye that said she would do whatever he wanted. And call him sir while she was at it.

He cleared his throat and nodded as he made his way past her. “Thank you, darlin’.” His bass player smirked at him as he set the amp down a few feet away. “What?”

Mike grinned and shook his head. “Green Eyes over there has been eying your ass all day. Literally. I made her an offer but I think she’s more interested in you. Guess she has shitty taste.”

He glanced back at the brunette.

Her eyes were green?
Trace hadn’t noticed. He actually couldn’t remember much about her except that she’d asked about where to put the truck.

“Guess so. Hey, do they have the speakers set up yet? I need to get back up to the house and check in with Claire Ann. She’s radioed me ten damn times.”

He was grateful for his older sister’s help with this, but Lord, the woman was a slave driver.

“We’re good here, man. Go on up and see what Hitler wants.”

Trace thanked him and jogged up toward the small studio on his property. The golf cart he’d covered with custom Mossy Oak panels and ATV tires was waiting for him. He hopped on it and headed to the house. He stopped twice on the way to check on people helping set up for the event. He was overwhelmed with gratitude at how many people were volunteering to do what they could for this benefit. It was an odd mix of people from home and people from Nashville setting up the tents, buffet tables, and sound equipment.

He’d learned a few things in rehab. One of those things was how to tell who actually gave a damn about him.

When he reached the driveway he parked the cart and got out. A few more cars had arrived, and the valets were beginning to park them out in the pasture. A sleek black town car caught his eye. It was the kind his label, Capital Letter Records, usually sent artists in. Except he was the only Capital artist here.

Gretchen was performing tonight, but she was no longer affiliated with the label. And he was pretty sure she’d run late. She was sober but she was still Gretchen.

He squinted into the setting sun. It was getting late and he needed to get his ass inside and get ready for the show. He pulled the handheld from his hip and hit the button.

“Headin’ in the house, Claire Bear. I’ll find you after I’m decent.” A few catcalls from the guys rang out over the channel. “That’s my sister, you sick fuckers.” He pressed the button again. “Mike, you can come join me in the shower now.”

“In your dreams, Corbin,” Mike’s muffled voice answered. Trace laughed but he sincerely hoped Mike wasn’t bending the brunette over in the barn or something.

He himself couldn’t even go in the barn because of what he’d done last time he was in it. Who he’d done. She was the same reason he couldn’t use the shower in his private bathroom either.

The memory of Kylie Ryans had become a ghost that haunted his house. And his dreams.

A
FTER SHOWERING
in the main bathroom, Trace wiped the thin film of moisture from the mirror above the sink. Sober eyes stared back at him.

He sighed, tightened the towel wrapped around his waist, and searched for his razor. Enough hiding behind the beard. The people coming to see him perform tonight were donating to his organization, showing their support when he’d done nothing to deserve it. So he’d give them the best show possible.

After each stroke of the razor, he rinsed the blade under the rushing stream. When he was done he patted his face with aftershave and met his own gaze again in the steamed-up mirror.

“You can do this.” Determination set his features into hard lines. He gave himself a nod and stepped out into the hallway.

Where he was greeted by the sound of his little sister’s voice.

“You can get ready in the guest room. It’s right here on the right,” she informed someone he couldn’t see. Shit.

“Hold up, Rae. I’m not—”

Kylie Ryans—the real-live flesh-and-blood version—appeared right in front of him before he could finish his sentence.

Someone whistled.

“Hot damn, Corbin. You doing a strip tease for cash tonight or what?” Mia Montgomery grinned at him from behind Kylie.

He couldn’t answer. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think of anything except,
Holy shit.
There she stood. Less than a foot away. Her wide blue eyes met his and robbed him of his breath. The shock of seeing her unexpectedly jolted every cell in his entire body to life. Except the ones involved in brain to mouth speech function apparently.

“Um, Rae said we could change in the guest room,” Kylie said quietly, avoiding his eyes by aiming hers at his sister.

Her soft, sweet drawl was music in his ears. His mouth went dry as he stared at hers.

Rae stepped between him and Kylie in the narrow hallway. “Oh God. Sorry. I didn’t know you were—”

“Yeah, I had to shower. Thought people might prefer the cleaned-up version.” His words came out about as choked as he felt.

Rae’s expression reflected the same sheer panic he felt as she looked from Kylie to him and back again.

“Well this was sufficiently awkward,” Mia deadpanned as she pulled Kylie aside. “We’re just gonna go get ready now.”

“Right. Got it.” Trace backed up into the bathroom doorway to let them pass, never once taking his eyes off her. When she was out of sight, he leaned against the wall and fought to catch his breath.

He still wanted her so damn bad. Still craved her like nothing else he’d ever wanted.

Just what he needed. Another addiction that would likely kill him.

He clenched his fists and stormed down the hallway.

So maybe he’d learned two things in rehab. The first being you learned who actually gave a damn. The second was, it was the people you loved, the ones you needed, who had the power to destroy you. Who could rip everything you’d worked for away in a single second. With a look. A smile. A touch.

Her touch would undo him. Undo everything he’d fought to overcome. But damn if he didn’t want it more than air. More than music. More than anything.

The image of Steven Blythe standing behind her in her apartment flashed behind his eyes.

An overwhelming flood of images unleashed themselves, tearing through him so fiercely he couldn’t stop them. Steven kissing her. Touching her. Holding her.

He couldn’t even hit anything to get a modicum of relief from the torrent of anger and pain building up inside of him for fear of scaring Rae half to death. And it was his home, for fuck’s sakes. This was what it meant to be sober. He had to feel every-damn-thing. Let it wash over him, pound him down, and beat the living hell out of him.

Once he was safely locked in his room, he dressed in jeans and a black shirt. His fingers fastened the buttons on autopilot. As soon as he was fully clothed and had run his hands through his hair, he pulled the handheld device off the dresser.

“Claire Ann Corbin, if you aren’t in this house in five seconds, I’m coming out there to find you. I suggest you find me first.”

A few “ooohhhs” answered him.

And then Claire Ann. “Be right there.”

He loved his sister. Loved both of them. Very much. But Claire Ann was about to catch some serious hell.

“T
HIS WAS
a mistake. I have to get out of here.”

“Kylie, breathe. That was an unfortunate encounter, but you lived. Chill.”

She paced alongside the back of the barn with her friend trailing behind. “I can’t be here, Mia. It’s like torture. You don’t understand.” She shook her head and put her hands on her knees. She took a few deep breaths, thankful that she’d been able to send Rae to get her something to drink before she broke down. “Seeing him is hard enough. Seeing him here…
oh God
. Seeing him with
her
here? I won’t live through that. I won’t.”

“You will. I promise you will. Relax, Oklahoma. Sing your one song and we can blow this joint. I can probably get you an actual joint if you want one.”

Kylie laughed quietly. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“Seriously, do you want another drink? There’s a flask in my purse in the car.”

It was tempting. Kylie sighed and leaned against the barn. Remembering she had on a sheer top that would probably tear right open if she caught it on a piece of the splintered wood, she stood abruptly.

“I’m okay. You’re right. Like my daddy used to say, never let ’em see you cry, right? I’m a big girl. I can do this.”

Mia grinned. “Atta girl, Oklahoma. So what song are you going to sing?”

Kylie’s eyes went wide. “Oh sweet Jesus.”

“That a new one?” Mia’s eyes darted in every direction as she tried to figure out what Kylie might be seeing that upset her. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sing any of my songs.” She shook her head and closed her eyes briefly.

Her friend scrunched her brow in confusion. “Um, oh-kay. Why not?”