Crazy Love(92)

“I’m hanging in there. How are you?” She tried to keep her tone and countenance upbeat. She hated when people allowed their personal life drama to bleed into their work.

“I read all about your story in the magazine,” he said as he wagged his bushy brows. “You’re famous.”

She guessed that it had taken a while for the news to hit the older crowd. That story was a month old, and this was the first time Mr. Yates had said anything about it.

“No, I’m not,” she corrected. “And the story wasn’t even true.”

Even though it shouldn’t make a lick of difference to Krista what people did or did not believe, somehow it did. Especially Mr. Yates. He knew Chase, and she didn’t want him to think that Chase would treat her the way the tabloid stories portrayed their relationship.

Mr. Yates looked at her and cocked his head. “Not true?” Reaching behind his back, he pulled out a folded-up magazine he must have had tucked in his waistband before handing it to Krista. “Well, will you sign my copy anyways?”

As she took the folded magazine from him, she saw that it was Hits magazine. She remembered it as the interview and photo shoot Chase had done the night he’d performed at the benefit. The night she’d gotten a private show backstage in the green room, where he told her that his warm-up ritual had always included playing ‘their’ song.

On the cover was a black-and-white picture of Chase on the riverbank with his guitar as he was looking out over the water. It was artistic, breathtaking, and—of course, because it had Chase—s-e-x-y. He was sitting in the same spot he’d set up the picnic for them and had played “Crazy Love” to Krista for the first time.

The article was titled “Raw and Revealed: Chase Malone Sets the Record Straight.” Krista’s hands were shaking as she opened the cover and scanned frantically for the page number of the article. Seventy-two. She flipped through the pages as fast as she could, but her fingers felt as thick as sausages. Finally she found it.

The first two paragraphs detailed Chase’s rise to fame, his time with his band Midnight Rush, and his decision to go solo. Then the questions started.

As she read the answers Chase had given about his inspiration for his songs, his childhood, and how he dealt with fame, she quickly realized that this was not a patented Chase Malone interview. He was getting personal. Really personal. In all of the interviews she’d seen him do and read, he’d never come out and said that he’d written the song “Saving Me” about Krista. She’d known he had. But he’d never confirmed it with the press. He’d never talked about having an abusive childhood or that he’d left home at seventeen. He had never talked about his and Krista’s longtime relationship or that she was the love of his life.

Well that wasn’t the case now. Each answer he had given was like a window into his soul. He was really putting himself out there and, in doing so, really putting her out there.

She waited to feel upset, mad, panicked, overwhelmed. But none of those emotions welled up inside of her. The last question was the interviewer pointing out that this was a whole new side of Chase and asking if opening up had anything to do with the fact that he was going solo.

Now she was mad. The way the question had been posed, it inferred that Chase had done this as some kind of publicity stunt. Which was ridiculous. His first three releases of his solo album were currently sitting in spots one through three on the iTunes and Billboard charts, his entire tour had sold out the day ticket sales had come online, and he’d just been asked to do an interview with Oprah. He didn’t need publicity stunts.

As she tried to reel in her anger, she read his response. He’d answered eloquently about how he understood why some people might question his timing and that his decision to pull back the curtain now came from the same place he’d gotten the inspiration for all of his songs. It came from love. He’d gone on to say that the love he had in his life was real love and it made him braver and stronger than he could ever be on his own. It gave him the courage to let people see the side of himself that he’d kept private for so long.

“You okay, sweetie?” Mr. Yates asked.

Yes. She was better than okay. She had love. Real love. Love that most people only dreamed of. The question was: What was she doing about it?

A huge smile spread across her face as excitement raced through her veins. “Mr. Yates, I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to reschedule today’s session.” Pushing his magazine back in his hands, she ran to the door of the PT room before looking over shoulder. “Don’t forget to do your stretches.”