The Price of Love (Rockin' Country Book 2) (20 page)

“That’s true, but sometimes you need to hear how the other person feels.”

“Han.” His voice was firm. “I said drop it. I can’t make Jared be more open with his feelings any more than you can. We just have to hope that they can work through it. It’s not about what’s best for us; it’s about what’s best for them. If Shell can handle it, then she can. If she can’t, then she can’t.”

“Alright,” she sighed. “I want them to be as happy as we are.”

“Not everybody can have that, babe,” he laughed. “Now get your ass on the scale.”

She was nervous about this, to be honest. She was eating, but she noticed that her clothes were getting looser. The pace they were keeping was tiring, and she knew that she was losing more weight than she was putting on. It wasn’t an obsession, she knew that, but she hoped that he would too. Hannah got on, announcing her weight out loud.

“That’s two pounds less than last week. You’ve gotta step up your caloric intake,” he told her, his tone back to serious.

“I don’t know what else to do.” She sat down on the bed. “I’ve never kept up this kind of intense pace before. I’m going back for seconds at night, and I’m doing my best to even eat a real breakfast and not just a couple of pieces of toast like normal. I’m ordering omelets and bacon on the side.”

Garrett ran a hand through his hair. “Have you thought about meal supplements? You wouldn’t have to do them forever, but you could drink them in between. They would give you enough calories to put back on the seven total pounds you’ve lost.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” she told him, frustration obvious in her voice.

“Let me take care of it.”

She was good with that. Anything that she didn’t have to worry with in this stage of the tour she was all for. For the next few weeks, she was solely focused on getting done and over with so that she could spend the holidays with her family.

“Okay, just send me a list, or whatever.”

“Are you doing okay besides being tired as hell?” Garrett asked sincerely, wanting to make sure that she was okay mentally.

“Yeah,” she breathed deeply. “I have two more days off, and I know that we try to see each other, but I’m thinking it might be best if I try to sleep on those days. I’m getting very tired, and I had a scratchy throat when I woke up this morning. That’s the last thing I need, to be sick.”

“What if I come to you?” He didn’t relish going a few more weeks without seeing her.

“Well,” she lay down, positioning herself on the bed, “if you come to me, then that’s a whole other ballgame, but I can’t be flying like I have been. I don’t want to come off the tour and be sick for three weeks.”

He didn’t want that either. “When is your next day off?”

“Umm.” She reached over and grabbed her calendar. “I have next Thursday and the following Monday off, then the tour ends that Thursday. I don’t know why they did it that way, but who am I to ask?”

They were so close to be being done that Garrett could taste it. He couldn’t wait. “How about I come see you next Thursday, and then I’ll be there the following Thursday night—the last night of the tour?”

“That would be amazing because it would help me get the tour stuff done, and if I’m too tired, you can handle it.” She gave him a bright smile.

“I don’t know about all of that, but I’ll do what I can to help.”

They said their goodbyes and got off the phone. Hannah was feeling great about the next few weeks and beyond. She was feeling great until Shell walked in, a grim look on her face.

“Bryson made a statement.”

The way Shell said it made Hannah’s stomach drop. She wasn’t sure what that statement was, she had no idea the words that had come out of his mouth, but she was more than positive that she wasn’t going to like them.

*  *  *

H
annah had fumed all night after she read the statement that Bryson had given to the press.

“I’m really proud of the song that Hannah and I made. I’m upset that she went behind my back and recorded another version with another artist.”

She had thought for hours about what she wanted to do, what she wanted to say. And even if she could only be honest to herself, it had really ticked her off that Bryson had said another artist. Garrett was her
husband
.

It wasn’t until then that she’d logged onto YouTube and found that her and Garrett’s version of the song had already been seen by over four million people. She glanced at the version with Bryson and saw that it hadn’t even reached a million yet. After she’d looked at the views, she’d steeled herself and looked at the comments. It had been a very long time since she had made herself do that, and she’d almost backed out, but what she found amazed her. Almost every single comment on her and Garrett’s version was supportive, while what was on her and Bryson’s were not.

It seemed that a lot of people were just as ticked as she had been that they’d released a love song with someone besides her husband. Those comments and the unsolicited support was what made her finally take a seat at the table on the tour bus. Her laptop sat in front of her, camera ready to go. She was going to make her own statement. At this point, she didn’t care. Like she’d told Shell, it was becoming fun going against everything that everyone expected her to do and be. She checked her reflection in the camera and situated herself on the seat before pressing record.

“Hey, Harmony fans!” She waved, smiling brightly into the camera. “I wanted to take a minute to address the comments made by Bryson Grant.” She took a few seconds, composing herself and trying to think up the best way she could say what she felt, but not being crass at the same time.

“He and I have been friends since we were in high school, so it surprised me to read what he said. While I know it could very easily have been taken out of context, I felt like I needed to respond. I wrote the song in question for my husband—it is one hundred percent about him and the love I feel for him. When the record company wanted me to do a duet, I said no to anyone but Reaper. I can’t fake how I feel, even if it is just to sing. He’s my husband and the love of my life. If I’m going to sing that kind of song, it’s only ever going to be with him.”

She stopped for a second, tilting her head to the side. “I know that a lot of you will understand that and realize that I’m taking my break in a couple weeks to spend time with him so that we can be normal for a while. Having said that, when the record company went behind
my
back and released a spliced-together version of the song, I was understandably upset. Since I
am
the owner of the song, I did it the way I wanted to. Reaper and I greatly appreciate the support and the views of the song on YouTube. Call and request it at your local radio stations, we’d love to see a grassroots campaign start.” She winked, smiling wickedly.

“Thank you for the support, and I love you! I won’t forget any of you on my break. Hopefully, you won’t forget me.” She waved at the camera before turning it off.

A slow clap could be heard behind her and she turned around, seeing Shell standing there. “That was a really great explanation of what’s going on. You even kind of, but not really, threw the record company under the bus. You did it with a smile on your face. What have you done with my Hannah?”

Hannah giggled. “She got stronger.”

“I’m proud of you.” Shell hugged her close. “Want me to upload this for you?”

“Please, I’m still not a whiz at that, and I don’t want to accidentally delete it before it gets out there. I don’t know that I have the guts to make that statement again.”

Shell smirked. “Out of curiosity, have you said anything to Bryson?”

“I am so flippin’ angry with him,” Hannah started, before gripping her water bottle so that it made a loud noise. “I mean, where does he get off?”

“You know it’s probably what the record company told him to say.”

“No, I know Bryson; I’ve known him a long time.” She shook her head. “He’s never been a puppet, and he never says anything that he doesn’t mean. He said what he wanted to. I’m thinking that maybe the record company told him that I was good with us recording this song together and he got the wrong idea. How? I don’t know, but weirder things have happened. I might text him, but I’m too ticked right now.”

“Chances are he’ll text you before you text him because the statement you just made was the best ‘kiss my ass’ I’ve heard in a long time.”

The two women looked at each other and then broke out into giggles. Hannah laughed so hard she cried, feeling relief for the first time in weeks. The stress that weighed so heavily down on her broke a little, and it felt good. “I’m kind of excited that I did it,” she admitted. “It felt good to tell people how I really feel, and I think it might actually be well received. You should see the comments in support of Garrett and me on our YouTube video. I’m surprised as all get-out.”

“Why? People always root for love.”

Hannah snorted. “Not always. You know that some fans have been wishy-washy about us being together. I think the record company just fixed it for us though. Now those fans will want to root for people who are sticking it to the man.”

Shell laughed. “I can’t believe you used the term ‘the man’,” she giggled. “I know I shouldn’t be finding all this funny, but I love the woman you’ve become, lady. You make my job damn interesting.”

“What can I say?” Hannah shrugged. “I’m not content with doing what I’m told anymore. I want my life to be my own.”

*     *     *

“Did you happen to see that you’re charting on a
country
chart?”

Garrett’s eyebrow shot up at the words that came out of Jared’s mouth. “No…what the fuck?”

“That video we made in a hotel room of you and Hannah singing that song is going viral. It’s charting. Radio stations are ripping the vocals and playing it on the radio. Especially after the statement she released earlier today,” Jared told him, clicking on Hannah’s YouTube page.

“I saw earlier that she’d said something. I haven’t watched it yet, though.”

“Well you need to, ’cause your meager little wife stood up to everybody and grabbed them by the balls. I’m pretty proud of her.” Jared clapped his best friend on the shoulder. “Mrs. Thompson has come a long way.”

Garrett laughed. “Thanks, buddy, it’s all my influence.”

“Keep dreamin’.” Jared smacked him in the stomach.

“Have you heard anything from our label?” Brad asked. Normally he didn’t get involved in the married couple’s business, but this could affect them as a band.

“I got a message from Rick earlier,” Garrett answered. Rick was their touring manager, who had in the past few months become their official manager. “He said that at first the higher-ups weren’t sure what to do with it because we didn’t get permission, but that our backlist had started selling on iTunes and they were choosing to turn a blind eye to it as of now. Will they continue? I don’t know, but I don’t care either. She took a huge step in doing that, and there’s no way that I can take that away from her, ya know?”

Brad nodded. “I’d have to agree with you there. She did take a huge step, and for someone like her, that unknown was a big one. I’m proud of her too.”

“I hope everyone knows this doesn’t mean we’re doing a country album, though,” Jared shivered. “No way in hell am I wearing a pair of tight jeans, cowboy hat, or cowboy boots. Fuck that.”

“I think we all agree that there will be none of that in this band,” Garrett laughed. “C’mon, let’s get this song done. Two more and then we turn it in.”

“You nervous?” Brad asked.

They had all decided to go with Hannah’s suggestion that they make the record they want to and forget what the label wanted. None of them had talked about how they felt it would be perceived.

“A little,” Jared admitted. “I mean, disappointing the label is still like disappointing family, but I think in the end they’ll grow to like it. We believe in what we’re doing. We have to stay strong and true to that.”

Garrett nodded. “A-fucking-men. If we had been scared when we first started out, we wouldn’t have gotten anywhere. We can’t lose that. If we lose that, then we’ll never do the things we want to again. As a group, we still have to have that little bit of fuck-you in us. We still have to have that little bit of not doing what we’re supposed to.”