“She’s efficient,” I correct. Thank god Nolan is the one part of my career not controlled by Raelynn. I hiredhimspecifically myself. She can’t take him away or replace him just because he spoke up to her.
He scoffs. “I could break her in half.”
“You can’t break a cyborg, Nolan. She’d just regenerate and come back meaner.”
I survey my distinctly blank ideas page. “Am I a sellout if I just write another breakup song and call it a day?”
His scent envelopes me as he moves closer, like he’s actually a warm fire here to comfort me without me touching the flames—or him. “You’re not a sellout. You’re surviving.”
I shrug. “Some days, I can’t tell the difference.”
There’s a long pause. Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
Nolan leans in, his scent heavy and grounding. “Let’s get you through this gig today. Then we’ll figure out a way to lock you in a room until the album’s done.”
“Romantic.”
I pack up my bag and toss it over my shoulder, already dreading the hospital event. Out in the hallway, Nolan matches my pace, his large body forming a barrier between me and the rest of the world.
We pass by a wall of framed platinum records. A photo of me grinning shines from five of them. There’s a sixth empty frame next to my last album, just waiting to be filled with my next release. I stop and look at it for a long moment.
“I’m not giving her another one after this,” I mutter.
“Good,” Nolan replies.
I keep walking.One more album.
Then I’m done. Free from this strictly pop-centered musical life.
Just one more.
It’s not the first time I’ve been paraded in front of a children’s hospital. Raelynn had that set up during the tour for my third album. It breaks my heart every time to see what these children have to suffer through, but their brave little faces and the hard work of the doctors helping them is always grounding. I’m happy to help fundraise in any way for these hospitals. That wasn’t the issue with the schedule change today. It was how it happened.
But I’m here now, and putting my best face forward to help raise as much money—and morale—as I can.
Nolan stands next to me at the base of a faux-grand staircase, arms crossed, wearing an expression so cold it could freeze the industrial-strength coffee in my hand. He’s not in suit-and-shades mode but he might as well be. His body language shouts,I dare you to approach.
I’m still simmering from this morning’s Raelynn encounter, which makes me extra perky for the media. They want pictures of the prince and hissongbird sweethearttogether.
“Piper!” Kellen glides down the staircase like he’s greeting an old friend when he sees me. “I’m so glad you made it. I know you’re working hard at Reverie Rest.”
I smile warmly as we embrace. “Raelynn insisted, so here I am.”
Kellen’s eyebrows crinkle together for a quick moment before they’re erased by the reality that we’re being watched far too closely for deeper investigation into my statement. “Well, I’m happy you’re here.”
Elliot comes up beside him and flashes me a quick smile as well. I nod to him, and the Kellen and I join hands and walk toward the event’s main space together.
The first hour is a blur of flashbulbs, canned speeches, and handshakes. The hospital director ushers us around in a cloying circuit: palliative care, oncology, neonatal, and then back to the media tent. I autopilot through the script, but Nolan watches me with growing concern. It’s not that I don’t care about what we’re doing here or the children in these wards, it’s that I’d rather visit on my own and donate directly myself. At one point I pull Nolan over and direct him to do just that on my behalf. The donation is complete before the tour is done.
By the time the official luncheon starts, I’m wilting like the centerpiece tulips. I’m just not meant forthisparticular type of spotlight with the weight of everything else. And I feel bad I can’t directly spend more time with each of these kids.
I make an excuse to slip out onto the garden terrace. Elliot finds me there, leaning against the banister and watching a pigeon circle the fountain.
He gives me a small nod. “Didn’t think you’d be the first to bail.”
I shrug. “Not bailing. I’ve donated to the hospital directly on my own between tour stops. Hopefully that comes out later to the press.” I turn to face him. “I wish I could do more for these children, that’s all. And me looking bereft about it rather than empathetic is an optics nightmare. Kellen’s much better at this sort of thing.”
He stands beside me, hands clasped behind his back. Unlike Nolan, Elliot has a more subtle approach to standing guard:instead of looming, he projects a calm, as if nothing bad could ever happen within a hundred-foot radius of his body.
