Open Road Summer(70)

“Oh my God,” Dee murmurs. As a fellow victim of heartbreak, of course Dee would commiserate. “Is she okay?”

Matt frowns. “No. I don’t think she is.”

“You should invite her on tour,” Dee suggests. “Get her mind off of it.”

“I did,” Matt says. “She’s going to come, I think.”

I close my eyes, almost a wince. Yeah, poor girl, breakups are rough, boo-hoo. But this is the same girl Matt said he loves. Used to love. Whatever.

“Who knows? Maybe they’ll get back together before then, even. Maybe it was only a fight,” I suggest, trying to sound cheerful. The sentiment is like an ill-fitting, frou-frou dress on me—too frilly.

“Maybe.” Matt’s voice is hesitant as he shakes his head worriedly. “I don’t know. I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

Funny. Me, neither.





Chapter Eighteen

Cincinnati to Nashville


We’re standing in the lobby of an arena in Cincinnati, Ohio, and I’m soaking in my last few minutes with Matt and Dee. I’m already mourning the loss of our easy dynamic, the three of us. In mere moments, we’ll have a fourth. Corinne is driving down from her college in Columbus. She’ll be here for the show tonight, and then she’ll follow the tour caravan in her car to Indianapolis. And probably Chicago and Lexington and Nashville. But dear God, I hope she leaves sooner.

I know I should be more sensitive, having watched my own best friend go through a devastating breakup, but I don’t care. Corinne is barging in on my time with Matt, and I’m not the type of girl who shares—not food, not feelings, and certainly not boys.

Dee, Matt, and I have had more fun in the past three days than in the entire summer. Before, Dee was mud-struggling, as her dad always says. When you’re trying to walk a dirt path after a rainstorm, the heavy mud gloms on to your boots with each step forward. Your weight tacks you to the sticky ground, and there’s nothing you can do to speed up your journey. But later, once you’ve struggled through, the mud dries on your boots. You can knock the clumps off like they were never there. Dee came home from Nashville with clean boots.

Now, Matt’s girl best friend is barging in. I shove my hands in my pockets, annoyed.

“That’s her,” Matt says, nodding toward the doors.

Yep. It’s her, all right, only she’s wearing cute, square glasses that weren’t in any picture I saw. As I suspected, she’s not head-turning, Hollywood gorgeous. She’s precious, take-home-to-your-mom cute. Marriage-material cute. Matt takes off toward her, and when she spots him, she relaxes into a full-body sigh, like a weary traveler relieved to finally be home.

He grabs her into a bear hug, and I can hear her squeal, “Ah, your hair!”

I can’t make out what he’s saying as Dee and I walk toward them.

“Reagan.” He looks at me, but his hands stays on her arm. “This is Corinne.”

“Nice to meet you,” I tell her, but I don’t extend my hand. I feel prickly. Almost jealous.

“You too.” She’s smiling, but I can tell she’s sizing me up. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Hey.” Matt knocks his elbow into hers. “Don’t give away my secrets.”

They grin at each other, and I can’t ignore how comfortable they are together. The thought ignites a burner inside me, and my stomach rolls to a low boil. Her freckles, which I was hoping were somehow strange-looking in person, are adorable, and she has naturally rosy cheeks. She’s wearing a cardigan, for God’s sake.

“Hi, Corinne!” Dee says from behind me, leaning in to hug her. “Nice to see you again.”

“Hey, Dee.” She gives her a quick squeeze. Stop hugging my people, bitch. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”

“Please.” Dee waves her off. “We’re glad to have you.”

Speak for yourself. Smiling, Corinne wraps both her arms around Matt’s waist, creating some sort of side hug. Oh, great. She’s one of those affectionate types, like Dee. Only, on Corinne, it’s not endearing. Worse yet, Matt looks completely at ease, like he is used to having this girl’s arms around his waist.

She releases him as we walk toward the elevator, but Matt’s attention stays on her completely. “How was your drive?”

“Not bad. I actually spent the entire trip listening to that mix you made after The Incident.”

“Ah, yes.” Matt turns to us. “The Incident is our name for my ex-girlfriend taking our breakup to the tabloids. I was in a very angst-filled place after that.”

“That’s an understatement,” Corinne tells us. We get it. You know him. “The mix has Janis Joplin on it.”

“Hey,” Matt says. “If memory serves, the mix is called Angry Breakup Songs. It has to have Janis Joplin on it.”

I’m going to suffocate in this elevator if she insists on flaunting her historical Matt Finch knowledge. Fortunately, the elevator doors open to our floor, and we step out toward Matt’s dressing room. Inside, Dee takes a seat in the armchair, and I sit at the end of the couch. Corinne keeps wandering, examining the room. She peers out the tall windows at the river view below.

“Nice view. Totally reminds me of—”