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CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
KYLE
Piper is fast asleep when I wake up.
I stare at her, in my bed, for way too long.
Red curls spread in a wild halo across the pillow.
Peaceful expression.
Perfect tits, nipples pebbled from the cold draft wheezing out of the air conditioner.
I pull the blue sheet up to cover her chest and then slip out of bed, yanking on the same pair of jeans Piper pulled off me last night, along with a clean T-shirt from the dresser. Walk downstairs, not sure exactly where I’m headed while also realizing the destination is inevitable.
Since its construction was finished, I’ve been in the recording studio exactly once. It was a costly installation that’s become a waste of money and a painful reminder of past plans. Before my mom died, I was planning to prioritize spending more time in Texas. Rediscovering more of Miles rather than being Kyle all the time.
And then I got the call that she was gone, and the whole thing felt like a sick joke.
Some people might say she got what she deserved. She was a selfish absentee parent who chose alcohol over me not once, not twice, but dozens of times. Who could never shake her demons, even when she tried. Who decided to get behind the wheel when she had no business driving a car and became another statistic as a result.
Piper’s the first person I’ve told voluntarily. Mabel and John were the ones who got the call from the local police. An officer called me once they got my number. I told Brayden and a few other members of my team out of necessity so I could come back for the burial.
And more terrifying than the physical line Piper and I crossed last night is that emotional one. The realization that I told her about my mom and my past because I want her to knowme.
People knowaversion of me.
Everyone in Oak Grove sees me as Miles. They might know I’m a famous singer and see me perform at the fair every year, but none of them have any comprehension of what that part of my life is really like.
And those who do know have no sense of what my life here is like. WhoIreally am beneath the celebrity and the success.
Piper is the only one who’s seen both sides. She knows exactly what my life here is like, what the past was and what the present is. And she’s also part of the music industry. She sat in the meetings that discussed sales and tour dates. Album marketing and fake dating another artist.
And I tell myselfthat’swhy it feels different around her. Being myself without worrying they wouldn’t understand one side of me or the other isn’t a luxury I’ve allowed with anyone else.
I couldn’t explain to Mabel and John why I was stepping away from music because they had no sense of what that part of my life was like. That fame can be the worst and best thing that ever happens to you.
I couldn’t explain to Brayden why I wasn’t shaken by my mom’s death, that it was a call some part of me had been expecting to get for years because I never shared that part of my backstory with him. As far as he knows, her death was a tragic accident, not a powder keg that was sitting and waiting to explode.
The door creaks when I open it, but that’s the only signal the building is old. From the inside, the studio looks brand-new. I splurged on state-of-the-art everything.
I ignore all the recording equipment and take a seat on the leather couch, grabbing the old Fender I found at a yard sale in high school from the stand. This is the guitar I learned to play on back when music wasn’t even a hobby, just an occasional distraction. The weight and scratched wood feel more comfortable in my hands than any other guitar ever has.
I fiddle around with a few different chord combinations, then start singing the words that have been scratching at the back of my mind since I woke up.
Red hair, blue sheets,
White lies, pink cheeks.
Another creak, as the door opens.
My fingers fall from the strings, and I silently pray the soundproofing means Piper didn’t hear anything.
She appears a second later, wearing her dress from last night. The black cotton is wrinkled—from the floor and from my hands. There’s an immediate tug of lust as soon as I see her, red hair wild and pink lips swollen.
“Hi.” Piper stops as soon as she spots me, hovering just inside the doorway, like she isn’t sure if she should take another step. There’s a crease on one cheek from the pillow.
“Hey.” I set the Fender down, rubbing my suddenly sweaty palms on rough denim and shifting to the right, making a little more space on the couch.
