Girl on Tour (Kylie Ryans) (15 page)

“You’re welcome. Want to tell me what the hell is going on with you?” Trace sat in a chair beside a table and waited for her to tell him what her deal was. After a few moments of sniffling, she looked up. Pain, raw and exposed, filled her eyes, her face. He needed a drink to deal with this. Women crying was his kryptonite.

“I’m ready to talk to Dr. Reynolds, Trace. The sooner, the better.”

“Seriously?”

Gretchen nodded, and he breathed a huge sigh of relief. Jesus. He had no idea what the cause of Gretchen’s sudden turnaround was, but he wasn’t questioning it. He whipped out his phone and texted both Dr. Reynolds and Pauly to meet them first thing in the morning. Or now if possible.

When he was finished, he looked up at her. She was a woman he’d considered a friend once. And then a friend with benefits. And now just a woman who needed help. “Not that I’m not thrilled to hear that you’re ready to get help, but what brought this on?”

She startled him by tearing up all over again.

“Whoa. Hell, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“I have a son,” she said evenly as she wiped her eyes. Trace’s heart stuttered, missed a beat, and restarted all out of rhythm. “Today is his birthday. I called but he didn’t…he didn’t want to talk to me.”

Oh dear God. Please no.
The internal plea was the closest he’d gotten to prayer since he was a kid. He forced himself to breathe deeply. The world slid off its axis and began to spin around him. “H-how old is he?”

She grinned through her tears and shook her head. “I had him two years before I even met you, Trace. He’s eight.”

“Oh praise God. I mean, not to be a dick, but you just scared the ever-living shit out of me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Relax, you’re not a daddy. Well, you might be. Who knows where the hell you’ve been? But you’re not my kiddo’s dad, so you can rest easy.”

His breathing was slowly returning to normal. “So who takes care of him while you’re on the road?”

Gretchen’s usually hard gaze went soft as she stared at a point in the distance. “My mama. She’s pretty much raised him. His dad was never in the picture and I haven’t been…” She trailed off and glanced up at him with pleading eyes. “I never meant for things to get so—”

“Shh, I know, Gretch. I understand.” He did. He really did. As much as Gretchen pissed him off and drove him half insane, he knew what it was like to feel like you’d given control of yourself to something else. To give up on dealing with your problems and settle for the numbness. Kylie had shown him kindness and strength, and she’d been there for him when no one else was. Maybe he could do the same thing for Gretchen.

“Dr. Reynolds is coming, okay? But I really need to get back to Kylie. She’s not exactly thrilled about me being here.” He stood to leave but Gretchen reached out and touched his arm.

“Trace. Do you love her?”

His world threatened to spin again. It was a simple question. But the answer was complicated. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He ran a hand through his hair and tried to think straight.
Why in the hell did I just tell Gretchen when I couldn’t even tell her?
“I didn’t even know if I was capable of that, you know? But she…she makes me feel like I’m capable of just about anything.”

Gretchen tilted her chin up and stared up into his eyes. “I’m a mess. I know that. And it takes a mess to recognize one. If you love her, if you really want to have a future together, you should get some help, too.”

What the hell?
Trace snorted. “Don’t be dramatic. I’ve got it under control.” He slid his arm out of her grasp.

“That’s what I thought, too,” Gretchen whispered. “Then eight years went by.”

He rolled his eyes and headed towards the door.

But the woman wasn’t done apparently. “I know you’re still drinking. How do you think she’d feel about that? How will you feel when she finds out?”

Her words stopped him cold. The fact that she’d said
when
not
if
.

It would be the end of my fucking world. That’s how I’d feel.

Gretchen sighed as if she’d read his thoughts. “I’ve never been in love. Not like you and her. I saw the way you looked at each other. And yeah, I was jealous.”

Trace turned and stared wide-eyed at her admission.

Gretchen rolled her eyes. “Not like that, you arrogant bastard. Just…I wish I could find that. Someone to love me like that—even though I’m damaged goods.”

He swallowed hard before he spoke again. “She told me she loves me. Tonight. I bailed.”
Fuck
. That look on her face was burned into his memory. The emotions flitted across so fast he barely had time to name them. Surprised, probably at her own words. Then hopeful as she waited for his response. Then bone-deep hurt when he couldn’t give her what she needed.

Gretchen snorted. “Sounds like you. That girl was ready to wrestle me to the fucking ground just for looking at you. Did you really not know how she felt?”

How can anyone love me? I’m an asshole, a drunk, and on the brink of being a has-been. What’s to love?
He didn’t know what to say so he shrugged and watched as Gretchen took a deep breath. “The thing about it is, I love my son. God, I love him so much. And I think he loves me too. At least…I hope he still does.” Her eyes filled with tears and her shoulders shook with the promise of another breakdown. Somehow she managed to choke it back. “But he deserves better than who I am right now. So I am damn well going to do whatever it takes to try and be better.” Gretchen paused to wipe the tears from her eyes with her fingertips. “And if you really love that girl, you’ll do the same.”

I
t
was nearly daylight when she heard him come in. She’d been fighting off sleep for hours. Waiting for a call or a text or something. But nothing ever came. He didn’t turn on any lights when he came in, so she said nothing. Even though her back was to him, she was aware of his every movement. She heard him take off his watch and lay it on the night table with a heavy thud. Listened to the rustling of his clothes as he undressed. The mattress shifted beneath her as he lowered his weight onto it. He huffed out a sigh behind her back.

She focused on keeping her breathing even. Pretending to be asleep felt somewhat childish, but she’d had hours to work up plenty of hurt and pissed off about the fact that he’d left her for Gretchen. There had to have been someone else who could’ve handled it. And he smelled like a brewery. Talking would lead to fighting. She knew this. For once, she didn’t have anything to say to him. And for some reason, she had a feeling he’d already said everything he had to say. To someone else.

W
hen
the sun finally broke in through the windows, Kylie turned to the man sleeping next to her. There were still dark circles of exhaustion ringing his eyes so she was careful not to disturb him as she got out of bed. After making a pot of strong coffee, she took her mug out to the back deck.

God, she loved this place so much. It was quiet, peaceful. Perfect. She lowered herself onto the glider swing and sipped her steaming drink. The land stretched and sprawled out before her. It was almost time to go back to the cramped bus of overflowing estrogen and she’d barely slept a few hours.

The pond wasn’t visible from where she sat but she knew exactly where it was. So much for her skinny-dipping plans. A pang of sadness struck her hard and fast. She took a few deep breaths to try and stifle it, but it left a residual ache in her chest all the same. Something was going on. He didn’t want her to know about it and he was cutting her out of a part of his life. The very same part Gretchen Gibson seemed to be very much a part of.

“Hey.” Trace’s sleepy voice interrupted her disturbing thoughts. She turned to see him standing behind her in nothing but a pair of plaid flannel pajama bottoms.

“Mornin’.” She focused on her coffee instead of ogling him like she wanted to. “There’s coffee. I can’t make breakfast like you do, but coffee I can handle.”

One corner of his mouth quirked up as he sat beside her. “I saw. Kylie, about last night—”

“Everything go okay?” she asked in a clipped tone. She was torn. Part of her wanted to demand every detail from the minute he’d left her last night until now. And part of her…just didn’t want to know. Knowing might change things. In a few short hours they’d be saying goodbye for five more weeks. Seemed like a bad time to rock the boat. Especially when it felt like the slightest movement might sink the damned thing altogether.

Trace snorted. “As good as could be expected I guess. She’s meeting with Dr. Reynolds this morning, so that’s a good thing.”

She nodded absently in agreement.

Trace angled himself so she’d have to lean back into his arms. She didn’t mind. For one peacefully perfect moment she didn’t care about last night. Or what anyone was saying about them online. Or anything really. This was what it felt like to be home. Loved. He might not have said the words, but the red and gray truck sitting in the driveway told her how he felt. Trace interrupted her bliss with the low rumble of his voice in her ear. “Babe? Can we talk a minute? I owe you an explanation.”

Yeah, they could talk. Or they could make the most of this time before it was over. “You did something nice for a friend, Trace.” She swallowed the pain calling Gretchen his friend caused. “The only thing you
owe
me is a shower.”

God bless Claire Ann for sleeping in. And Rae must’ve been at her mom’s or with friends. Thank goodness for small miracles. Kylie sat her coffee on the patio table and stood. She stared into his eyes as she unbuttoned the shirt of his she’d slept in and let it fall to her feet. She slid her panties down her legs and stepped out of them, moving towards him. “You comin’?”

His eyes were molten when they met hers. “Yes, ma’am.”

She could feel him close behind her as she made her way to his bedroom. She didn’t even glance at the bed for fear they wouldn’t make it to the shower if she did. Without even looking at him, she stepped into the bathroom and turned the shower nozzle to hot.

At some point he must’ve ditched his pants. When she felt him step into the shower behind her, his erection brushed against her backside. She ached for him. Last night hurt so bad and now she needed him to heal that hurt. Smooth the jagged edges caused by spending so many hours without him, filling her the way only he could.

“Hmm.” He was close enough that she felt the vibration in his chest. “Where were we?” He yanked her roughly backwards, turning her and pressing her back up against the shower wall before she had time to protest. Not that she would have. “Yeah, about here looks right.”

“You fixed it,” she said, nodding at the bar on the shower door she’d broken in the throes of passion last time they were here.

Trace grinned and shook his head. “Couldn’t. Had the whole door replaced. Feel free to break it again. I’ve got one on backorder just in case.” He winked, and she tilted her chin so he’d kiss her on the mouth. But he didn’t. His eyes met hers for a brief second, long enough for them to convey how deeply he wanted her and how much she was going to enjoy this. It was a promise. One she was going to make sure he kept.

He palmed her face and then let his hand trail downward. He brushed past her breasts to her stomach.

She moaned out loud when he dropped to his knees. “Open up, pretty girl,” he murmured against her hip. She spread her legs, twitching in anticipation as he ran his hand up her inner thigh. At the first touch of his tongue against her, she jerked and her legs tried to close. Trace gripped her inner thighs, holding them apart as his tongue lashed against her over and over again. She whimpered at the intensity of it. He wasn’t slowing down or backing off. Just licking her deep and hard at a relentless pace.

When he slid a finger inside of her, she felt herself coming apart at the seams. But she wasn’t ready.

She grabbed him by the hair of his head and pulled. Hard. He looked up at her, eyes wide and dark.

“Make love to me, Trace. I’ve waited. I’ve been waiting.” She didn’t have to wait much longer.

He stood, gripping her ass with both hands and lifting her easily. She clung to his shoulders, digging her fingers in so hard she worried a little about hurting him. But he didn’t complain so she held on tighter.

When he impaled her on his thick shaft, she made loud, unapologetic sounds of pleasure. The first few were just noise. But then the moans came, and the word on her lips was her favorite one. His name.

W
atching
Kylie Ryans come was like witnessing a miracle. The combination of events that occurred simultaneously was magnificent to behold. Her body stiffened and jerked around him. Her smooth, tan skin flushed and warmed. Her bright blue eyes shone even brighter than usual. Once she opened them, that was.

After they’d finished in the shower, he’d carried her to his bed, thinking she might want to rest before heading back to the bus. But when she’d hiked her leg over his waist, rubbing her satin skin again his, well, that had been the beginning of round two. “Fuck,” he groaned as she clenched and pulsed around him. Her body always stroked the underside of his dick just right. She was so damn tight, the gripping and pulling of her walls pulled his orgasm from deep inside. It wasn’t until after he’d finished releasing himself inside of her that he realized what they’d forgotten.

He let out a breath, collapsing on top of her. “Dammit, Kylie, I—”

“It’s okay,” she said softly, plowing her fingers gently through his hair.

Like hell it was okay. She’d said she wanted to use condoms and that she hadn’t been doing a great job with her pill. He should’ve pulled out. He should be panicking. But he just didn’t have the energy left to work up a good flip out.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve—”

“Trace.” Her voice saying his name was music in the air. It was his favorite song. “It’s fine. I checked last night and I’ve done better with my pills than I thought. I haven’t missed one. Just been taking them at weird times is all.”

He placed a chaste kiss on her breast just before laying his head on it. Damn, she felt good naked and in his arms. Exactly how and where he needed her. For a little while, all the voices in his head telling him why this was wrong, why it would never work, and that he’d never be good enough for her, just shut the hell up. It was pure and utter perfection. Just like she was.

A tiny thought snaked its way to the forefront of his mind. A glimmer of hope that somehow managed to wrestle its way through the deep dark pit of doubt. Maybe, just maybe, what they had, the two of them together, was perfect too.

F
ive
weeks later, he was anxiously pacing the bus like a caged beast, anticipating seeing his girl again as they pulled into the parking lot of a bar in Charlotte. The time apart sucked and phone calls and video chats weren’t soothing his urge to drink or his dick like the real live version could. He’d just hung up with her when Gretchen appeared from her room. She was makeup free and clad in jeans and a T-shirt. Her hair was pulled back and her eyes were clear. Hallelujah. The last thing he needed was to take an intoxicated Gretchen to Kylie’s show. She really did seem to be making progress. It was more than he could say for himself.

“Hey,” she said, coming up beside him. “Can we talk?”

He checked his watch and motioned for her to follow him off the bus. “Can we do it inside? I don’t want to be late. The girls don’t always perform in the same order and I don’t want to risk miss—”

“I’m leaving the tour, Trace.”

His feet hit the pavement and he froze. “You’re what?”

Gretchen fidgeted, wringing her hands and then shrugging. “I’m going into rehab. Dr. Reynolds found this place in Dallas that’s supposed to be really good. Private.”

“What about the label?” They’d drop her for sure. He didn’t have anyone there who’d do him any favors or he’d try to help her out. “Maybe Pauly could—”

“Trace. Listen. Please.” She put a hand up to silence him. “I’m done. I’m done with the label. All of it. It’s time to get my act together and be the kind of mother Daniel deserves. That’s my son’s name. Daniel. He likes to be called Danny.” He watched as the moisture gathered in her eyes again. “Or at least he used to.”

Jesus. She was breaking down again. His fiddle player’s name was Danny. That probably sucked for her, hearing his name so often. He leaned over to give her a hug. He meant for it to be a quick one but she began full out sobbing in his arms. Women crying was not something he was equipped to handle. And yet, it seemed to be happening a lot lately. Any time one of his sisters or Kylie cried he felt like a helpless jackass. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. We’ll talk to Dr. Reynolds inside and I bet you’ll feel a lot better afterwards.” He gave her a few pats and pulled back just as the flashbulb of a camera went off.

What the hell?

“Trace, Gretchen, are you two an item?” a heavy fella in a Hawaiian shirt called out as he snapped another photo.

“Get lost, asshole,” Trace said, ushering Gretchen into the building. He was proud of Gretchen, he was. But things like this, some jerkoff causing problems that would just cause Kylie pain, just made him want a drink that much more.