Even if there were anything new, I wasn’t interested in hearing it.
God, Laura was going to have one hell of a time unwinding my twisted thoughts about everything that’d just happened.
I didn’t realize how far I’d walked until I stumbled into the barn. People milled back and forth in the enclosed arena, watching the amateur rodeo events and betting on how long people would last on the back of a bucking bronc.
I looked around. It was too loud. There was nowhere to hide. I couldn’t even climb up to my sister’s renovated hayloft for peace because it didn’t have any damn walls. Other than hiding in my parent’s house, there was only one place I knew I could turn to.
One place no one knew to look.
grady
. . .
You goddamned idiot.You absolute fucking fool.
My heavy boots thudded against the familiar pasture as I made my way back to the stage. I clung to Charlie as she rambled about the different toys she brought with her—blue pony, blue dolly, blue monster truck… She sure didn’t need to. I already knew exactly what we brought. The only reason we’d avoided an absolute meltdown while packing is because we let her bring all her favorites.
My daughter hadn’t been lying. Blue really was her favorite color. It was mine, too, but I liked a specific shade. One that was as deep as the ocean depths and as sweet as the wild blueberries that grew along the fence line of this ranch.
The one that matched Cleo’s eyes.
I tried not to focus on that little detail. Because when I did, all I could think about was the hurt and confusion on her face that had deepened the moment she’d seen Charlie running up to me with open arms.
Had she not known I had a daughter? Charlie’s mom and I had worked hard to keep her out of the media as much as possible. Having two parents with high-profile jobs meant we wereunder constant scrutiny. Our kid didn’t deserve that. She didn’t choose this life.
We never hid her, though. We were proud parents, and I thanked my family in every acknowledgement or speech I gave. It was important to me Charlie knew how much I loved her, and the way her birth had changed my life in ways I could never fully explain.
The band and I were coming up on nearly twelve years together. After the first ten, we’d been able to negotiate a yearly contract, which was convenient at the time. None of us were sure what we wanted to do. Life on the road was hard, and we weren’t getting any younger. Most of us had families, and touring took us away for months on end with little time for much else.
When our contract was up for negotiations this year, we unanimously agreed it was time to take a hiatus. It wasn’t a breakup by any means. We all wanted to get our asses back on the road eventually, but the thought of a year or two to ourselves was too good to pass up.
So much had changed since we’d first signed on the dotted line. The guys and I had come a long way from the scrawny nobodies we’d been before we signed with the label. None of us had known each other at first. We were brought together by desperation and a handful of dreams, which still rang true today. The break just gave us a chance to figure out what we wanted, write and record some new music, and prepare for our eventual return to the public to be better than ever.
There were downfalls to having so much time on our hands, though. For the first time in twelve years, I had time to overanalyze. The guys and I were at the height of our career, topping the charts left and right with every single we dropped. If we walked away now, would all of it still be waiting for us if we decided to come back? Would we even want it? It was all a guessing game.
No matter how exhausted I was, I was selfishly worriedabout myself, too. Music was like therapy to me. It helped me through some of my darkest moments and allowed me to celebrate the highest points. But after tonight, there would be no work to fall back on. No screaming fans to drown out the incessant chatter in my head. No melodies to lose myself in. It was just going to be me, myself, and my thoughts, which had been a dangerous combination over the past few months.
Because no matter how hard I tried, those damn thoughts always drifted right back here to a beautiful blue-eyed blonde and Black Springs Ranch.
God, so much time had passed since the last time Cleo and I had seen one another. It felt like another lifetime, and I guess it was. We weren’t the same people we used to be. Yet when I looked at her, I felt the same rush I did when I was young. Like we were still the same kids we were at sixteen—reckless and running through this very field to meet one another at our secret spot.
Only, back then, she would’ve greeted me with a smile and a kiss before asking me what took me so long rather than running for the hills like I was a monster. Which, in her story, I might’ve been.
Our history was long and complicated. There was fault on both sides. No one was perfect, but Cleo was damn close. When she’d been by my side, I’d felt invincible. Nothing and no one could bring me down. No one except, it seemed, myself. The day I’d let her slip through my fingers, prioritizing all the wrong things and heading down a wildly twisted path, was one of the worst of my life.
It was why thoughts of Cleo were easier handled with a bottle of tequila after dark. Memory lane was a bumpy ass road to walk by yourself. If I was gonna be forced to do it, it sure as shit wasn’t going to be sober.
When the band and I had talked about where we would play our last show, our label pitched the idea of ending it whereeverything had begun. The decision was met with a bunch of cheers and pats on the back from our PR team and agents. They raved about the sentimentality of it, how it would lookso goodto bring revenue to a no-name, small town in Texas and pay tribute to my humble roots.
I’d smiled and nodded, pretending everything was fine, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth. I hadn’t stepped foot in my hometown since my mother passed, and I’d vowed to never do it again.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to give credit where credit was due. The Lonestar was the birthplace of a wild dream. I owed a lot to my hometown bar. If I hadn’t played my first acoustic show on that simple stage to a group of half-drunk old men, I wouldn’t have had the courage to follow my heart and be standing here today.
But all those accolades and accomplishments were only possible because of one person. Cleo had been the only thing I saw during my first set. She watched me with nothing less than utter love and adoration, believing in me before I ever did in myself.
I’d felt every bit of it, too. Her excitement never felt like an obligation. There was never a roll of her eyes when I told her I wanted to play music for a living. She didn’t balk when I deferred college to chase my newfound dreams or tell me I should have a back-up plan.
I tried like hell to convince our label that somewhere,anywhere, else would’ve been better for our final show. I worked with some of the best tour promoters in the world to come up with bold new ideas that should’ve had our label jumping up and down in their plush leather seats. Instead, they just nodded their heads and told me to save it for our comeback.
