“I love you.” Her words slammed into my heart. “I’m in love with you. I always have been, even when you were an asshole at the funeral.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I understand why you did what you did.” She opened her eyelids and I was staked in place by the amber blaze. “I understand why you’re going to ditch me again. But I’m also enraged. How could you hurt me like that?”
“It’s for your own go?—”
“Is it?” Her eyes misted over. “It doesn’t feel like it. It didn’t feel like the best thing for me was to be alone in Nashville. Do you know...”
A cloud covered the sun, causing the interior to dim.
“Do I know what, June?” I asked quietly. I wouldn’t like what she said.
“Those songs I wrote about us, I kept to myself for years. Then I wrote ‘Emerald Rain’ after your wedding and I still sat on them.” A tear tracked down her cheek. “Then when you and Kirstin had Bethany, I knew I’d lost you.”
I lifted my hand to catch the shiny tear, but she stepped out of my reach. I’d never hated myself more.
Wasn’t this what I wanted? For her to move on and get everything she wanted?
Her words sank in, one horrifying realization at a time.
She’d held on to the music that had propelled her career? For years?
“Why?”
She sniffled. “How could I sing those if there was a chance for us? So I finally decided to let Lucy listen to them.” Her harsh chuckle was swallowed by the large building. “And you know the rest. But you know what no one else can tell? They’re different from the songs I wrote after all the other failed relationships. They’re better. Because I was so truly in love with you and heartbroken. My other music? It’s about superficial love and hurt for no damn reason. And this new album? It’s going to be better than anything I’ve ever put out. So good, I don’t know if I can ever top it.” She took a step toward the exit. And another. “And you know what else?”
It was pretty clear right now I didn’t know a goddamn thing.
She squared her shoulders. “I don’t know if I want to top it. I’m at the top and the view is pretty damn lonely. The whole trip has been. Because I don’t want fame andmoney if it means I can’t be with the ones I love. If it means I lose the most important person in my life.”
Her words were tiny slices along my skin. Little cuts, shredding everything I’d ever thought I knew.
She took a slip of paper out of a hidden pocket in her skirt. “I found this when I got dressed this morning. I should be touched, but it hurts. It really fucking hurts, Rhys.”
My stomach dropped when I saw what she held. The ticket to her Grand Ole Opry performance.
“I just wanted to make music that meant something to others, but I’m losing myself in the process.” She swiped at her face. “It feels really selfish to say that.” Another bitter laugh left her. “I have five addresses!” She shook her head. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking a lot about what I really want, and I think maybe you need to do the same. Because I think in your case you need to be a little more selfish. You should probably look at how your mom’s actions affected you and then wonder what example you’re setting for your girls. I know it’d break your heart if they gave up everything for someone else’s happiness—and then realized it was all for nothing.”
She let the ticket fall to the ground. Then she turned and left me alone. Just like June was. Because of me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
June
I carried the basket of eggs up the hill. Mama walked next to me. Tomorrow I played the fundraiser. My luggage was packed, and in the morning, I’d load my two suitcases and my guitar. And shortly after that, I’d be gone.
She tipped her face to the sun. “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t nice to have you around the last two months.”
I hefted the eggs. Twenty from this morning. That was breakfast for just Lane and Cruz. “I’ve treasured my time here. I need to do this more often.”
She held the door to the house open for me. “After the big tour? Or will you have to pump out another album?”
I hadn’t gotten that far yet. I didn’t want to think about it. “I told the promoter that I couldn’t leave for the first concert until after September. I shouldn’t miss Summer’s baby.” I’d missed too many births. Tate’s sonChance with his first wife. Then the two kids he and Scarlett had—Brinley and Darin. Myles and Wynter’s daughter, Elsa. I could be around for Summer and Jonah’s baby. I’d send a message to my team that I needed dates spaced out around her due date. The promoter had pushed back, but I’d stuck firm.
Mama put her straw hat on a hook. “We’ll certainly miss you.”
I toed my boots off while Mama grabbed some cartons for the eggs. I set the basket on the counter and stared at it. “Mama?”
“Ah.” She put the cartons down and rubbed my back. “It’s time for a drink.”
In any other family, having a glass of bourbon at nine in the morning might seem dysfunctional, but for the Baileys, it was like our morning tea.
