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Ryan slowly moved me back into my apartment, giving me his beautiful golden eyes. I knew he was about to tell me something that bothered him because his eyes always told me how he felt.
“Conor and Finn have me back at the gym tonight to train. September will come quickly and the guy I’m fighting, Flint is young and up and coming. They want me to do extra training, so I’m ready. This means I can’t come tonight, nor can Conor or Finn.”
I seriously have the best guy. “I’m fine. I don’t need a babysitter, Ryan. I can take care of myself.”
“I don’t like you leaving alone,” he said. “Your performances end pretty late. I’ll come when I’m done, so you are not walking to your car all by yourself.”
“Ryan, stop. You’re going to be exhausted. Go home and sleep after training. I will be fine. I’m sure I can get the manager to walk me to my car. I promise everything will be fine.” I placed both hands on his face and rubbed my thumb over his jaw, putting him at ease.
“Promise me you won’t walk out alone,” Ryan said in earnest.
I simply replied, “I promise.”
18
MACKENNA
Later, as I was leaving my apartment to head to the hotel, I received a text and smiled when I saw it was from Jeff. I hadn't seen him for months. I owed him so much for everything he did for me back in Boston. He didn't have to help me, but he did, and because of that, he'd become more than just a friend—like another brother to me. When he texted last night to say he was moving to Fort Lauderdale for a bartending job so he could be near the beach and focus on writing a book, I was beyond excited.
Although there would still be some distance, three hours was nothing compared to traveling to Boston. I had time before I needed to set up for my performance, so I took the opportunity to text Jeff. He told me that Brad still visited the bar, not as frequently as when I first left, but every couple of weeks.
Jeff said Brad was furious, making comments about how I couldn't leave him and that he'd make sure he got me back. It was an unsettling feeling, but I reminded myself I was far away from him and had no intention of returning.
Glancing at my phone, I noticed the time, so I texted Jeff.
Me: Got to head in.
Me: I'm performing tonight.
ME: Keep me posted on the move.
Jeff replied almost immediately.
Jeff: Will do.
Jeff: Can't wait to see you soon!
With that, I tossed my phone in my purse, grabbed my guitar, and exited the car to head into the hotel. As I made my way to the bar area, the manager met me and showed me to the stage and where I could set up. The mic and speakers were already in place, so I just needed to make sure my guitar was tuned and ready to go.
As I worked on my guitar, I felt a sickening sensation in my gut, so I headed to the bar to ask for some water. I recognized the bartender, Jessica, from a few other times I'd performed here. She was a friendly college girl from Tennessee. We made small talk, and I mentioned how I felt like I was being watched.
"Of course, you're being watched,” she responded reassuringly. “For one, you're incredibly attractive, and you're a performer, so yes, you'll be watched!"
I shrugged. "You're right about the performing, not so much the attractive part!" I downed the rest of my water, and Jessica refilled it for me to take with me on the stage.
Slinging my guitar over my shoulder and adjusting the mic to the right height I took a breath to calm my nerves. It was strange to have nerves. I’ve not been nervous to perform since I was a teen. Halfway through my set, my nerves started to settle, I fed off the crowd and had a great performance.
When I finished the last song, “Fight Song” by Rachel Platten—I wasn’t sure why I ended with that song, but it felt appropriate tonight—I thanked everyone for coming out and wished them a good night.
Methodically, I began to pack up my guitar and peeked at my phone to see a missed text from Ryan.
Ryan: Text me when you’re headed home.
Ryan: Then text me when you get home.
Ryan: I’m done training and just icing my knee.
Hmm, icing his knee. I wonder what happened.
