You'd Be Mine(67)

“I just ran into Trina in the hall—”

“We know,” Kacey sputters between giggles.

Jason rolls his eyes. “So … we’re okay with this, then?”

I wipe at my cheeks, fanning my face. “It’s an order from the top.”

“But what about Clay?”

I sigh, finally composing myself. “It’s the last show; maybe he’ll miss it.”

Jason taps out a rhythm on his thigh. I groan.

“Now what?”

“Yeah, so I was actually talking to Clay and Fitz when Trina told me. They heard you had a mystery song and were all over it. They wouldn’t miss it.”

“Of course not.”

“They’re huge fans,” Kacey says apologetically.

“Maybe Jefferson won’t read into it.”

At this, Jason snorts. “Right. Because you never, ever base your songs on real life.”

“Maybe he’ll think it’s about you.”

“Maybe you’re delusional.”

I slam my hand down, and Kacey jumps. “Damn it, Jason! You’re supposed to be supportive.”

He raises a dark brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is me supporting you. I told you he doesn’t deserve you. When he OD’d on pain pills and started rambling about being in love with you, I punched him in the mouth. What the fuck else do you want from me, Annie? I’m not your therapist.”

Kacey winces at his slip, and my entire body flushes. “What did you say?” I ask slowly, each word being dragged from my lips.

“Okay, so I am your friend. I don’t mean to be an asshole—”

I shake my head. “No, not that. I don’t care about that. Did you just say he said he loved me?”

Jason’s face pales. “I…”

“He said he loves me?”

“He was barely coherent, Annie. He’s a mess.”

“I know that,” I snap. “Don’t you think I know that? But he said he was falling in love with me and no one told me?”

Kacey releases a slow breath. Her tone is soothing, and I despise it. “No one wanted to get your hopes up. Fitz actually wanted to tell you. He has a thing about you two, but he’s got blinders when it comes to Clay. He’s his brother. He can’t see how he could hurt someone like you.”

“Someone like me? What does that mean?”

“Oh, don’t get pissy with me, Annie May,” Kacey says. “Yeah. Someone like you. Someone whose mom and dad are country music’s biggest tragedy.”

I close my mouth and slump back in my chair. I don’t say anything else, just fix my makeup as Jason and Annie argue about something unimportant. Once I’m ready, I stand up, grabbing my guitar.

“We’ll play it for the encore.”

“But that’s when—”

I silence them both with a raised chin. I’m not running from this. He’ll hear it, and that’s that. Either it’s tonight at the show or its next month on the radio. I wrote it for him. I’d be a coward if I couldn’t own up to that.



* * *



“Chicago, you’ve been the best audience a girl could ask for to end her summer! Whoever said Yanks couldn’t party? Not me!” I wink and watch as the giant screens behind me amplify my movements all over the giant outdoor stadium. The crowd roars. “Who’s ready for Clay Coolidge?” More roaring. I grin. “All right, all right, y’all. One more song from us and we’ll get out of your way.”

Booing. I smirk mischievously and wave my hand down, shrugging them off. “No hard feelings; those Coolidge band members have stolen our hearts for sure!”

I turn to face Kacey and Jason and release a calming breath. They’re waiting for my cue. I glance off to the wings, and there he is. Ball cap, jeans, gray V-neck. He gives me a happy grin.

Jefferson smile, I think automatically. But better, maybe. My heart flips in my chest. I turn to face the audience. Somehow, it’s easier to reveal my gutted heart to thousands of people over just one.

“I hope y’all will hang with me here. Kacey, Jason, and I have had an amazing time on tour this summer. We want to keep it going and would honored if you all would come along with us. So we put together a little album that should be dropping in the next few weeks. This song is brand new. You’re the first ears to hear it. It’s called ‘You’d Be Mine.’”

The crowd erupts in cheers, and it blows me away, still. Them cheering for me and a song they’ve never even heard. “It’s a song about a boy,” I say and start strumming. I swear you could hear a pin drop. The light of cell phones glitters back at me in an enormous waving sea of motion.

I shut my eyes and sing my heart. I can feel his eyes on me. His ears perked. His full attention laser-focused sends goose bumps over my skin as the lyrics unfold and stretch over the crowd. When I come to the last verses, I can barely choke them out over the emotion swelling, threatening to strangle the air from my lungs.

And, God, I hate myself for

Wishing

And lyin’

And thinking that maybe

You’d want to be mine



The damage is done. It’s all been said. My heart’s been torn open and revealed. Everything in me wants to glance back at the wings—to see for myself how he took my confession—but I refuse. I can’t. If there’s even the tiniest chance in hell he didn’t hear or didn’t realize or … didn’t feel the same …