Page 94 of Wild and Wanted

‘So…’ His hand lingered for a moment before falling away. ‘Why don’t we get dressed and go talk to your mom? Tell her everything. About what you want and how you feel and about your panic attacks. I’ll come with you. I’ll be right by your side.’

Stevie shut her eyes. She wanted to but it was a lot. Her lids blinked open. ‘I don’t know, Clay.’

‘Stevie girl.’ His hand cupped her face again. ‘Aren’t you tired of carrying it all around with you? Keeping everything locked inside to protect your mom? I know you’re worried about her emotional state but maybe you’re not giving her enough credit? If you’re honest with her and she finally knows this stuff, she might actually surprise you?’

Stevie knew he was right. And she was so very tired. Maybe it would work out. Maybe it’d be a disaster. But Clay was going to be by her side and that gave her a boost of courage she’d not had before. His love had given her confidence and strength.

Maybe it was time to go after what she wanted?

29

STEVIE

Half an hour later, dressed in jeans she’d left at Clay’s one night, a faded T-shirt of Clay’s from his rodeo days that she’d tied in a knot at her navel and her godawful white cowgirl-Barbie fringed boots from the shoot, Stevie walked into the cabin she and her mom had been allocated – one closer to the main ranch house this time.

Clay was by her side.

Her mom, standing in the kitchen, reading a bunch of papers spread on the benchtop, glanced up over the top of her reading glasses at their entry. She didn’t say anything for a beat but her gaze didn’t miss a thing, roving over their joined hands and the rodeo T-shirt and her daughter’s dishevelled bed hair that had been half wet from their shenanigans and not dried.

Hell, not even brushed.

Stevie epitomised the saying rode hard and put away wet, and her mom was definitely adding two and two and getting four.

‘Clay,’ she said, a little stiffly, as she removed her glasses.

He nodded. ‘Mrs Everhart.’

‘We need to talk, Mom,’ Stevie said, her voice suddenly husky.

Her mother looked from Stevie to Clay then back to Stevie. ‘Okay.’ She tipped her chin at the couches. ‘Shall we sit?’

They all moved to the living area where a three-seater and two armchairs were positioned around a coffee table. Stevie and Clay sat in the middle of the three-seater, arm to arm, thigh to thigh, his hand giving hers an encouraging squeeze.

‘It’s about the tour.’ If she was doing this then she was jumping in feet first. ‘I can’t do it, Mom.’

Her mother blinked and stiffened before flicking her gaze to Clay. ‘Is this you?’

‘No.’ Stevie shook her head vehemently, cutting in before Clay had a chance to answer. ‘It’s not him. It’s me. I have… panic attacks, Mom.’

Her mother frowned. ‘What?’

‘It’s true.’

‘I know you have some nerves before you go on stage, darling, but⁠—’

‘It’s not just nerves, Mom. They’re really bad. Like, think-I’m-going-to-die bad. Throw-up-before-I-go-on-stage bad. My-fingers-tingling-and-spasming bad.’

Her mother sat forward in her chair, her brows creased in concern. ‘How long has this been going on? Is it just since Yolanda… Why didn’t you tell me?’

Stevie unloaded then. Clay had said to tell her everything – so she did. She recounted every panic attack and how Yolly used to help, but how they’d intensified since she’d been gone and as the pressure on her had increased, especially after the Grammy win. She spoke about Yolly and how she thought her sister would really want them to be looking forward, not back, and how she just wanted to write songs.

She spoke for almost an hour, standing and pacing for most of it, crying sometimes, her mother crying as well. And poor Clay not sure what his role was in any of it but stoically sitting and just being there. Stevie was exhausted by the end of it all, but the telling had been a kind of catharsis in itself.

‘I’m sorry, Mom,’ she said as she sat next to Clay, emotionally shattered. ‘I thought I could go through with it, that I could just meditate or something before going on each night and get through the tour and then it would be done and that would be enough for you. And then I came back here and I knew what I’d been missing these past couple of months in Boston. Or at least I thought I did, and when I saw Clay this afternoon I realised actually it was him I’d been missing. I love him, Mom, and he loves me and this is where I want to be.’

Stevie glanced at Clay. They hadn’t exactly discussed her staying on the ranch but she’d taken a punt that he’d be okay with it. His hand slipping into hers and squeezing was all the confirmation she needed.

‘Oh God, Stephanie.’ Her mom hadn’t said much through Stevie’s diatribe but she had cried, like she was now. ‘I’m so sorry I ever let you think that you just being you wasn’t enough for me. I’m sorry to you too, Clay.’ She flicked her gaze to him. ‘You told me to ask Stephanie what she wanted and I ignored you.’