“Your point?” she asked, glancing back up at Lulu.
“My point is, this is just the part of you that you let people see. It’s the public version. The private version of you is yours. And it belongs to you and whomever you decide to share it with. I mean, hello. You’re on a tour named after a song you wrote about the fact that you don’t let everyone see that side of you. The real side. So to hell with what one reporter or one magazine prints. You know who you really are, and at the end of the day, that’s what matters.”
The lyrics she and Trace had written floated through her head. At one point, he’d been the one she shared that side of herself with. And that hadn’t turned out so well.
It still hurt. Hurt bad. Deep down in that private part of herself she kept hidden away, there was nothing but pain. There was a reason she kept it hidden.
She’d opened her heart and soul to someone who’d chosen to walk away from everything she’d had to give.
One of many memories she’d shoved out of her head with all her might forced its way back to the surface. I love you, she’d told him in the cab of her daddy’s truck.
That look on his face, the shock and the panic, was one she’d never forget. And it wasn’t what he’d said afterwards that still stung. It was what he hadn’t said.
She forced a smile for Lulu and Steven. They were sweet and they cared about her. But for reasons she couldn’t explain even to herself, she took that part of herself, the part she didn’t share with the world, and tucked it away.
Silently, she promised herself she’d never share it with anyone again.
“SO THIS is it,” Trace told the girl stepping onto the bus behind him. “Kylie and I each have our own living quarters, which I can’t show you. But we do have a kick-ass media room and big screen.” He grinned at the lady from the radio station and she blushed. It was kind of nice to know he still had it. Touring with someone who was completely immune to his charms didn’t do much for his ego.
The camera guy followed them onto the bus and Trace waited for him to give the thumbs-up signal before he began talking. He flirted and cracked a few jokes during the interview.
Just as they were about to wrap it up, the door to Kylie’s room opened. He turned and looked at her. Red-rimmed eyes told him she’d been crying. He did a mental recall of the last few weeks. Things had been going relatively smoothly. He couldn’t think of a single thing he’d done lately that might have upset her.
If Blythe had screwed around on her, he would kick the little fucker’s ass. And then dance a jig probably. But only because he’d be out of the picture.
He moved to block the camera guy’s shot of her. “Well, thank y’all so much for coming. See y’all at the show tonight.”
The lady with the microphone protested as Trace all but shoved them off the bus. Once the crew was gone and the doors were closed, he headed back toward her. Her pain was apparent on her face, and it weighed on him as if it were his own. The urge to reach out and wrap his arms around her was powerful and overwhelming, but she’d asked him not to touch her and he was trying his damnedest to respect her wishes.
“You okay?” He wanted to slap himself. That was a stupid question since she’d obviously been crying. People who were okay didn’t cry.
“I’m fine,” she answered, stifling a sniffle but not completely. “Just tired.” She pulled her oversized sweater around herself. He was kind of grateful that he couldn’t see her body so he wouldn’t be tempted to do things to her that he shouldn’t.
Yeah right. He was pretty much always tempted around her. She could wear a brown paper sack and he’d still want nothing more than to tear it off her.
“You’ve been crying.” Master of the obvious, here.
She shrugged. “Do you know if there’s any ice cream on the bus?”
“Um, hang on. I’ll check.” Trace turned and beat it into the kitchen. He was grateful to have a task. Crying women made him feel helpless. What the hell were you supposed to do? Ask them about it? Not ask? Get tissues? Shut the hell up? Be there for them or get out of their sight? He never knew.
After checking the freezer thoroughly, he returned to her empty-handed. She was sitting on the couch, curling her legs up to her chest. She looked so…lost. The need to make whatever was upsetting her all better was more than he could handle.
Dropping to his knees before her, he looked up into her eyes from below. “Mint chocolate chip?”
Her lower lip trembled and she nodded.
“Okay.”
Trace sprang into action and practically sprinted off the bus. He grabbed the first person he saw. It was Hannah, Kylie’s manager slash assistant or whatever she was.