A Kiss Straight Out of a Song—Lucy Jane & Connor Nash Prove They’re Country’s Next Great Love Story!
Except I don’t care.
Not about the cameras. Not about the applause. Not about the career boost. The temptation I felt even a month ago has vanished.
I don’t care what this does for my career—because I finally understand something:
The “No Distractions” rule was never about protecting my career. It was about protecting my heart.
I thought if I never let myself love someone completely, it couldn’t be ripped away. But I love Patty more than my career.
And here’s the thing:I don’t have to choose.
Music is different now. I can go back to making music on social media, to releasing albums without ever touring, and I’ll be fine. Yes, I love performing, but who’s to say I can’t do that on my own terms? I don’t need the “legitimacy” of a label. All I need is the fire in me.
And that ain’t goin’ anywhere.
Oh, and I need Patty. Duncan. Patrick O’Shannan. A sexy, grumpy, stubborn boyfriend by any other name …
I step back, nerves thrumming, bouquet in one hand, flash drive hidden in the folds of my gown.
Nash kisses my cheek, and I fake a squeal, playing along.
The fan reaction is so intense, it shakes the stage.
With one final wave, I blow him a kiss for good measure, then turn on my heel and glide offstage.
I don’t hesitate.
I don’t second-guess.
The moment I’m clear, I rip off my headset mic, yank out my in-ears, and drop them all at Patty’s soundboard.
Where is he?
He should be here.
I need him to be here.
On stage, Nash raises a hand, silencing the crowd, flashing his signature world-class backstabbing grin.
So smug. So sure of himself.
“Man, it’s always an honor playing at Hot Strings Hall,” he says, voice smooth as silk. “So many legends have stood on this stage, and I just wanna thank y’all for making this night unforgettable.” The crowd cheers like their lives depend on it. “And let’s hear it one more time for Lucy Jane, huh?”
The audience erupts again, and I roll my eyes in disgust.
My gaze darts around side-stage.
Manny stands near the sound crew, arms crossed, his expression dark.
He knows.
He knows this is all for show. And he hates it.
So does everyone else.
My parents. My sisters.
