Rusty nods.
He’s younger than me—a couple years younger than Sean, in fact—but he’s what the town matriarchs of Sugar Maple call an old soul. And I trust him more than about anyone else in the world.
His dad caused the accident that paralyzed my dad and killed his younger sister. Shared tragedy has a way of bonding people.
“Why are you doin’ this, Pat?” Rusty asks after a long stretch of silence. “I don’t know much about music, but you working soundboards? Why would you agree to that?”
I don’t mind keeping secrets from the rest of the world. I like it, even.
But I almost feel bad keeping this one from Rusty.
“I have my reasons.”
“I can guess one of them,” he says.
“Because you’re one of the only people who knows my past, and I expect it to stay that way.”
Rusty blows air out of his mouth. “I don’t like keeping secrets from Ash.”
“They’re not your secrets.”
“Then why am I keeping ’em?”
“You’re not keeping ’em. You’re keeping your mouth shut. My sordid past don’t hurt Ash, and it won’t hurt Lou, either,” I say, tasting the lie on my lips.
It’s bitter, but it goes down smooth.
I’m not intending to hurt her, but if she’s the kind of girl who gets upset by people having motives outside of her, yeah, it’s gonna hurt her.
If things with Nash go my way, though, it’ll all be okay in the end.
Rusty seems relieved by my words. “Just know that if you hurt Lou, Ash has ordered me to hurtyou.”
I snort. “You could try.”
“Iwouldtry. And I’d succeed,” Rusty says, his voice sharp enough to cut. My eyes drift to him.
He’s looking right at me.
The narrow roads that lead from Mullet Ridge to the main highway are winding and tight, yet Rusty’s fixing me with a death stare while navigating them like he could do it in his sleep.
I’m impressed.
“You don’t need to worry,” I tell him. “She’s headlining a big tour. She’ll be in her luxury dream coach by herself while I bunk up with fourteen of the forty people on the crew for three months.”
“You mean six,” Rusty corrects, but I see the wheels turning in his brain. “You’re gonna drop out after you talk to Nash, aren’t you?”
I shrug.
“Just give her time, then, will you? Give her an idea so she can prepare? She doesn’t trust easily—or at all, outside the Janes. She deserves to be leveled with. She can handle it.”
I nod, feeling the token in my pocket.
The flash drive that holds my hopes and dreams on it.
“I’ll take it under consideration.”
“Patty—”
