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I saw the seriousness in his eyes. The intensity as he zeroed in on me. “Everything you’ve heard is true. It’s not an act. I live my life wide-open. No regrets. You should know that.”
“Interesting philosophy.”
“And what’s yours? Love and peace?” he taunted. “Good always triumphs?”
“That’s my image, yes.” I didn’t know why it seemed so important to strip all of that away. I wanted him to see me bare. “But I believe it too. I believe in kindness in people. Love. All of that.”
“I can tell that about you.” His brow furrowed.
I tiptoed away from him, still feeling the indentations on my ass where his fingers had been. I walked around the room, observing Luke’s collection of pictures and football memorabilia.
“You can? How?” I wanted to know. I wanted him to tell me how he had come to the conclusion that I was the same good girl everyone else saw.
He sat on the edge of the sofa. “The way you sing.”
I forgot the picture of him with his arm wrapped around another guy in a uniform and looked at him. “Really? One concert and you know that?”
He shrugged. “Maybe not. But I felt it. I doubt people say that when they see me perform.”
He had my interest. “So the game is a performance? It’s all a show?”
“The game is my life.” His voice hardened. “But I know the fans go to see a show. They want the same thing your fans want. They want to feel something. They want to feel the thrill of winning. They want to feel like they’re a part of something bigger than they are. Why else do people love football so much? Everyone’s a damn expert. Men who have never picked up a ball suddenly know what call I should have made last week.” He paused. “Everyone thinks they know the sport better. And it brings people together. They unite against us. They unite to support us. It makes them feel like they belong.”
My eyebrows rose. “And you think that’s the same as me singing on stage?”
“I saw it tonight. I saw how people responded to you. They want a piece of you. Even that manager of yours. They want to be a part of something bigger—your life—your music—your victories.”
I turned again to the bookcase. Everything on these shelves was related to football. Luke had summed it up.
“My wins are wins for my team.” I picked up frame. “If I have a number one hit then everyone has that hit. The writers, the musicians, the marketing staff, the roadies. It’s exactly like that. And the fans.” I spun on my heels. “The fans feel the win too. Because they know they gave it to me. They made me. They paid for that number one song, so somehow I belong to them.”
Luke was looking at me. I didn’t know him well enough to know what he was thinking, only that we had threaded football and country music together with undeniable lines of heavy cord.
“What do you want fans to think of you when they see you perform?” I asked.
“They’ve already made up their minds about me. Doesn’t matter.” He refilled his glass.
“And you’re okay with that?”
“Are you okay with belonging to your fans?” He turned the question back on me.
“Who is this?” I held up the picture, trying to change the subject. I hadn’t come here to feel trapped. I came here to be freed. Freed the way a man like Luke could release me.
Luke stood. “That is my brother, Linc. He used to play too.”
“Not anymore?”
“No. He blew out his ACL in college his senior year. It ruined his chances in the pros. After three surgeries he finally accepted he was done, but he’s my manager. A lot nicer than yours is too.” He grinned. “And he doesn’t give me shit about anything.”
“Jake has his days.” I didn’t want to remember him either. I was here to escape. Here to forget the chains and the ropes that kept me bound to him and my brand.
“That guy needs to find someone else to manage.”
“And you know something about the music business?”
Luke took the picture from my hand and placed it on the shelf. “I don’t know shit about the music business.”
The air felt thick between us. He would have kissed me backstage if that bumbling cellist hadn’t interrupted us. Now we were alone. No crew. No fans. No benefit guests. Just the two of us alone on a ranch in the middle of nowhere.
