Hannah flew out next and slid to a stop in the grass next to Bethany. “Disappeared.”
I was moving before I knew it. Inside, I didn’t bother to kick my boots off before marching to the living room. Some young reporter’s face was frozen on the screen. Wren loved her entertainment shows.
Wren looked at me while aiming the remote andhitting the play button. The image changed to clips from June’s last tour, where she’d been an opening act for that dickwad Finn. A tan cowboy hat rested on her head and the pink-tinged hair she’d had when she’d dated him streamed out from underneath. Her boots were the flashiest part of her outfit. The white blouse and painted-on blue jeans fit her indie country-rock aesthetic. People thought it was a put-on, but she’d always dressed that way growing up, at least when she wasn’t chasing cows on horseback.
The reporter’s voice overlaid the clips. “News about the release of the next June Bee album might have to wait. Sources say she hasn’t been seen for weeks and even missed appointments with notable songwriter Remi Dahl. We reached out to June Bee, but she’s declined to comment.”
I narrowed my eyes and Wren shut the TV off. What was the point of spreading this news? She’d taken a ton of pictures with young fans in the coffee shop. Hadn’t the kids posted them, or was no one interested in a happy June surrounded by people who cared about her?
“Why is that lady saying she’s missing?” Hannah asked, blinking her big blue eyes.
“I don’t know, peanut.”
“Does Junie know?” A line formed between Wren’s brows. “Her fans must be so worried.”
Fuck her fans. Would any of them even care she’d been used by her fucking manager? They thrived on her heartbreak, fed off it. Logically, I knew they’d care. Righteous anger would light the internet on her behalf. I just wanted June to have the peace she was seeking. “I don’t know. She’s staying off social media.”
Wren held her phone loosely in her hands. “She’sbeen posting fun clips from her concerts and images of her writing music.”
I frowned. This was all news to me.
Wren flashed her screen and I took the phone from her. Scrolling through the images, I scowled. June’s fingers working over her guitar as she hummed a few notes to herself. June smiling in front of a camera as she held a bottle of Copper Summit bourbon. June with her face tipped to the sun.#selfcarewas the caption. The background was full of familiar trees. The same ones crawling up the slopes behind the cabin.
I scrolled up to the image with her posing with the bourbon. The brick wall behind her was familiar too. There was another image nested with it and a short video.
Wynter’s voice spilled out of the little phone from a video on her feed. “June Bee and Copper Summit. A match made in Montana heaven.”
Only those of us who knew what Wynter sounded like and had been in Copper Summit before would know this image was both recent and taken in Bourbon Canyon. The general public might think the photo shoot was in Bozeman. It was how June usually presented her work with her family business. The company might want tourism, but none of us residents wanted fans stampeding our small town.
She’d done well at concealing where she was. The cabin images could be mistaken for Tennessee, and she had other homes people could snoop around.
A chill washed over me.
What if they tracked her to Bourbon Canyon and people dug up history of us? They might not care about a guy from fifteen years ago, but they’d care about him ifhe was suddenly in her life again. If he had two kids that she was giving guitar lessons to.
I did not need the girls to get tossed into a media frenzy. A country darling and some normal dude might not attract much attention, but his adorable kids might. June’s fans loved her heartache, but they also wanted to see her happy. Each time she was linked to a man, speculation about kids was next.
Dread had clawed over my shoulders and down to my gut each time I had read those posts. Rich, when I was the one who’d gotten married and had kids.
I had to talk to June.
“Wren, can you watch the girls for a little bit? I need to let June know about this.” She probably knew if she’d been elbow deep in her socials, except she’d said she was avoiding them. “I can’t have it affecting the girls,” I said in a low voice.
“Of course.” Concern filled her eyes. “Do you think she knows?”
“She has to, and she has to realize speculation will lead people to her hometown. I just need to know how she’s going to handle it.”
I couldn’t be linked as June’s happily ever after. It had been hard enough letting her go the first time. I didn’t need the world to shove it in her face that I wasn’t leaving my home to go with her. Again.
CHAPTER TEN
June
The air was crisp on my cabin porch, but I sat at the edge of my chair, guitar on my lap. I hummed fragments of a melody. I couldn’t quite get a lead on a solid clip.
Mostly, I was enjoying the day. No neighbors. Wide-open spaces. Neither I nor any of my sisters liked cramped quarters after the accident. I’d rather fly than travel in a cramped bus that reminded me of traveling from campground to camping spot. Having a small hotel room at the end of a long trip wasn’t any better. More memories would flood in. Me and my sisters crammed too many to a bed. Single-file lines for the bathroom. Greedily watching TV while we had access to electronics.
If I nailed this album, I’d get the plane. A bigger hotel room. A suite even. A tour schedule with stops close to my other homes.
