He leans in, lowering his voice. “Have you talked to the label?”
“Plenty of times,” I say, playing dumb.
He takes my hands in his, and all I can think about is Greer watching us. Does she like what she sees?
I can feel Patty watching. Even though I don’t look for him, I know he’s there.
And Connor’s hands—they’re lukewarm. Like they can’t tell if they’re hot or cold.
I should pull away, but maybe it’s the exec’s eyes on me, but something tells me to see this through.
Connor’s eyes flit to Greer. “You should know,theymay have all the schemes in the world, but I don’t. I’m interested inyou, Lucy. I’m not saying we’re soulmates yet, but I’d love to grab a coffee sometime.”
I wrinkle my nose, wishing Patty wasn’t so close. Wishing he was closer. “Actually, I hate coffee. Tastes like headaches.”
Before I can respond further, our stage managers interrupt, calling us for sound check. A moment later, Patty appears and fits me with my in-ears. I could do it myself, but I don’t stop him.
I feel like I’m being split apart. I love the feel of his hands on my skin—soft yet firm, capable. But I don’t know if I’m mad at him or if I’m trusting him or both. He told me he was holding back, that I had to trust him to make the revisions on his own. But it turns out, I hate everything about actually doing it.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice quiet. We’re close enough to kiss, but neither of us does.
“I should ask you the same thing,” I whisper. “We missed you in the green room.”
“I got caught up with something. But it’s all resolved now.”
“Is it?”
His eyes flick between mine, and for a moment, I wonder if he knows I overheard. But no, that’s impossible. No one would guess that Lucy Jane would stoop so low as to press her ear to a door just to hear a conversation not meant for her.
It’s tacky. It’s obtrusive. It’s not how adults act.
It’s how neurotic, paranoid girls in love act.
Patty’s thumb slides over my cheek after fitting my in-ears. “I’ll tell you about it tonight.”
“Promise?” I ask.
His eyes soften, almost smiling. “Promise.”
I forcibly push my worries aside, but they lurk around the edges of my mind.
How am I going to perform with all of this worry? All of this heartache?
All of this …
Distraction.
“Well, howdy, Memphis! How y’all doing? I’m Lucy Jane!”
The crowd goes wild.
Hot Strings Hall is legendary, a venue with history stitched into its walls, a place where country music giants have left their mark. Playing here, on my very first tour, is a dream. And it reminds me that no matter what the label wants from me, Ihaveaccomplished something. I do matter.
But why does it feel like I’m about to fall apart?
I glance side-stage, where Patty is standing, hands on his console, eyes on me.
And I don’t know if I need him closer or farther away.
