Girl in Love (8 page)

“S
ITUATIONS LIKE
this are called triggers,” Dr. Reynolds reminded him. “Sometimes it’s a person, a place, or just a stressor that agitates the urge to drink. We talked about these at length, remember? It’s okay to have them. I’d be shocked if you didn’t.”

The benefit had gone surprisingly well. They’d raised nearly twice as much money as Trace had expected, and the outpouring of support had blown his mind. But…Christ Almighty, seeing her there had nearly destroyed every ounce of self-control he’d had.

Claire Ann had promised him she hadn’t invited her. Apparently Rae had decided to take matters in her own hands and someone from the label, a dead someone if he ever found out who, had called in a favor he hadn’t asked for.

When she was on stage, singing a song that’d pummeled his heart six ways to Sunday, he’d wanted nothing more than to grab her up, throw her over his shoulder, and drag her to his bedroom caveman-style. He’d spend all night—and every night afterward—trying to take away the pain he’d caused her. And if he got her back in there, she was never coming out. Neither of them was. Ever.

He’d tried to talk to her and she’d all but run from him. Afterward, he’d spent the entire night sitting alone in his bedroom staring at the bed, picturing her in it. He hadn’t downed a bottle of bourbon and let the burn coat his insides with sweet fire and distract him from the pain of missing her. Of having lost her.

But now, having gone more than twenty-four hours on no sleep and an entire night of watching the ghost of Kylie Ryans tease and taunt him, he was on the brink.

“It’s more than that, Doc. This isn’t a trigger I can avoid. I mean, I can try. Hell, I’ve been trying, but…” He sat in his truck, rubbing the bridge of his nose with the hand not holding the phone. “I can’t outrun my own memory.”

He’d left the house as soon as it was daylight and driven to his house in Nashville. Which he knew wasn’t nearly far enough from her apartment. The only thing that kept him from going there was the memory of what had happened last time.

“Trace, it’s not your memory that’s the trigger. It’s the situation or your feeling like you can’t control it. Can’t repair what’s been broken.”

Yeah, okay. The man had a point.

She wasn’t a piece of equipment on the farm, wasn’t something he could take a hammer and nails to and fix. Unfortunately. Kylie Ryans was a force of nature—wild like prairie winds that blew past so quickly you couldn’t tell which direction they’d come from. She’d blown him the hell away from day one.

“Doc, I’m sorry to have called so early. I have to go. I’ll check in again tonight.” Before the doctor could protest, Trace hung up the phone. Grabbing a pen from the center console, he began jotting down the song that had just begun to play in his head.

A
FTER WRITING
a song he knew he’d probably never have the balls to sing in public, Trace sprawled on his couch and stared at the ceiling fan. The cherry oak blades drifted lazily in circles, but he didn’t see them. He saw her.

She was different. Guarded. Less…something.

It was as if someone had coached her. Her sassy Oklahoma accent was less pronounced. She carried herself with the grace of someone older and wiser than he remembered. She thought before she acted, before she spoke. For just a moment last night, he’d seen her slip. Caught a glimpse of the Hothead who had turned his whole world inside out.

The Kylie Ryans he’d known was open, honest, and wore her heart on her sleeve. The girl—no, woman—he’d seen last night was closed off, holding everything in, and had her heart on maximum-security lockdown.

Because of me.

Understanding hit him hard, as hard—if not harder—than the urge to drink always did.

I love it… I love you
, she’d told him when he’d bought her daddy’s truck and given it to her. And he’d said nothing. She’d handed him her whole heart and he’d fumbled it. His fists clenched as he lay there. No wonder she’d hidden it away.

There was still another factor he was trying not to think about. But it was pretty hard to ignore with its tattoos and screaming guitars and the annoying smirk Trace wanted to sucker-punch right off its damn face.

Maybe she wasn’t hiding her heart from the world. Maybe he just couldn’t see it anymore because she’d given it to someone else.

T
HE NEXT
morning, the blaring ring of her phone compounded the hangover from hell. She’d stopped using music as her ringtone and just used a traditional one. It was irritating, but at least it didn’t dredge up any painful memories.

“Ugh,” she groaned as she rolled over and glanced at her phone. Bright blue eyes greeted her. “Morning, Blythe,” she greeted her caller.

“It’s noon, Ryans. You missed the opportunity to tell me good morning.”

“Damn. How will I ever go on?” She yawned and sat up in her bed. Which she didn’t remember getting into. She owed Mia one. Or more than one.

“I’ll let you make it up to me. Somehow. Want to have lunch? Or breakfast in your case? I’m in the neighborhood.”

Well this was new. Steven Blythe had gone from a once upon a time late-night fool around friend to just a plain old friend. Though he wasn’t exactly someone she expected to be asking her on a lunch date.

“Oh-kay. Where do you want to meet?”

“How about at your front door?”

Kylie jumped up and sprinted to her bathroom. “Um, okay. So, like, you’re here now?”

She almost cried out when she saw her reflection. Her hair was tangled to hell and back and her makeup was smeared all over her face. She had no idea if the dark rings under her eyes were from crying her mascara off last night or lack of sleep.

A low rumble of laughter came through the line. “Yeah, I’m heading to the elevator now.”

“Okay. See you in a minute.” Kylie disconnected the call and splashed some water on her face. Shit that was cold. After brushing her teeth and throwing on an old Rum Room T-shirt and jeans, she met her unexpected visitor at the door.

“Morning, babe. You didn’t have to get all fixed up for me.” Steven gave her his wickedly adorable grin and an appreciative once-over.

Kylie pulled her hair up into a messy bun and rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome,” she told him as she grabbed her keys and sunglasses off the table by the door. “So where to?”

“Wanna grab something at the Rum Room? Or hit one of the diners down the street?”

She’d already locked her door when she realized she’d forgotten two of the most important items she owned.

“Oh crap.” She sighed and turned back around. “I need to grab my wallet and my phone. I don’t know where my head is today. Sorry.”

She wasn’t one to sleep in, and normally her daily life was scheduled down to the minute. She was beginning to realize why.

Steven’s warm hands wrapped around hers. “I’m buying. And you can make it through one meal without your phone, right?”

She froze, wondering if she actually could make it through a meal without her phone. She couldn’t remember the last time she had. And he was buying? And holding her hand? So this was a date? Her head filled with questions she was still too hungover to answer.

“Okay. But, um, I eat like a dude, so consider yourself warned.”

Steven grinned as they left her apartment building. “Maybe take it easy on me then. I’m out of a job.”

Kylie stopped and turned to face him. “You’re what?”

Placing a hand on her lower back urging her forward, he continued. “It’s not a big deal. Band’s just taking a breather.”

“The hell it isn’t a big deal. You guys are about to be freaking huge. You’re like
the
unsigned band to be right now. I thought there was interest from Electrick and all that?”

He shrugged as he held the door to the diner open for her. “Things got…complicated.”

Kylie raised an eyebrow at him but he didn’t offer anything further. She watched as Steven nodded to a pretty redheaded waitress. As she took in his tight black T-shirt and the tattoos banding his thick arms, a slow smile spread across the woman’s face. Kylie barely managed to keep from laughing out loud.

The woman gestured to an empty booth Kylie would’ve bet money was in her section and they slid in.

“So, Miss-Eats-Like-A-Dude, what’ll it be?”

“Come on, Blythe,” Kylie began, using her hand to lower the menu he held. “Talk to me. What’s really going on?”

He sighed, setting the menu aside and turning the full force of his bright blue eyes on her.

“Chris isn’t feeling the new sound. He says we’re letting the media influence make us too ‘mainstream.’” Steven used air quotes on the last word. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s right. But lately he and I have just…” He smacked his two fists together as an illustration. “Just been coming up on opposite sides of every discussion you know? And BJ is tired of it. He gets stressed out really easily. Kid had a rough home life.”

“So what are you guys going to do? Just break up? That’s asinine.”

Steven ran a hand through his already messy black hair and shifted in his seat, but before he could answer, the redhead appeared to take their order.

“What can I get for you?” she asked, green eyes locked on Kylie’s breakfast companion.

Kylie didn’t miss the flirty grin Steven shot the waitress before motioning for her to take Kylie’s order first.

She thrust her menu at her. “Yeah, I’ll have the pancakes and bacon with extra syrup please. And an orange juice and a large coffee, black.”

The waitress gave her a tight-lipped smile. “And you?” she said, taking Kylie’s menu and turning back to Steven.

“Same, I guess.”

When she was finally gone, Kylie turned back to Steven. He was spinning a saltshaker back and forth between his large hands.

“You do her or what?”

“What?” His eyebrows shot upward as he looked at her with wide eyes.

“No? So all women get ridiculous around you like that? Because if they do, this is our last breakfast date. It’s too early for me to watch some chick ogle you. Her desperation is making me nauseated.” Kylie yawned, which nearly made her giggle at the perfect timing of it.

“Aw, Ryans, you’re jealous.” With a wink, Steven leaned in closer to her. “Actually, that’s kind of a turn-on of mine.”

“You’re a jackass.” Kylie sat back and folded her arms. “For one, I don’t do jealous. For two, I’m more interested in hearing what the hell’s going on with the band than what turns you on. And for three, can we just focus on one thing for a second? I swear I think you have an attention deficit issue.”

He chuckled and slid the saltshaker aside. “For one, I was just messing with you about being jealous. For two, the band is on a break…indefinitely. And three, I actually do. My parents made me take medicine for it when I was a kid but it made me feel dead so I stopped.”

Kylie huffed out a breath. “Figures. Okay, so tell me the truth. You and Chris butting heads—is it really over the direction of the band or a certain brunette we both know and have likely seen naked?”

“You’ve seen her naked?”

“We toured together, so the answer should be obvious. It was a small bus. But I’m guessing from the way you nearly fell out of your seat that you haven’t. And that’s the issue.”

Propping his elbows on the table, Steven regarded her warily. “What if I have? You don’t care?”

Kylie tossed her hands up, palms facing him. “Whoa. This isn’t about me. This is about you and the band and whether or not you’re throwing your career away over a girl.”

Isn’t it?

Kylie felt a panic attack coming on as the overwhelming possibility that this impromptu meeting was about much more than breakfast overtook her. “Steven…” She bit her lip as she tried to find the words to say what she wanted to.

“Relax, Ryans. I know. Jealousy isn’t your thing. Got it. But I wonder, if it was a certain—”

“Don’t. Whatever you’re going to say, don’t.” She could feel it in the air when people were about to mention Trace. Everything inside of her tensed up.

“All right. My bad. So yeah, in all honesty, whatever’s going on with me and Chris, Mia Montgomery isn’t helping matters any.”

Kylie nodded. Surprisingly, the admission didn’t sting. Not even a little. She wondered briefly if something was wrong with her. “Well, have you talked to Chris about it?”

The waitress reappeared with their food, and Steven waited to answer until she’d gone.

“Yeah, and it hasn’t gone over well. Our last conversation ended with us deciding not to tour at all until next year. If even then.”

“I’m sorry. That sucks. Seriously. You want me to talk to Mia?” Not that she knew what she’d say, but she could at least let her friend know that her relationship with Chris was causing tension.

“Um, no. What would you say, Ryans? Hey, Mia, at some point between Steven giving me countless orgasms, he mentioned that you and Chris dry humping during band rehearsal was distracting and he’d like for you to quit. Yeah, that should go over well.”

Kylie felt her face redden at least ten shades. “You did not just say orgasms and dry humping over breakfast.”

“I did. And so did you.” Steven snatched a piece of bacon off her plate and crammed it in his mouth. She didn’t care. It was chewy and gross instead of crispy like she liked.