His chest ached as his mind conjured the most probable cause for the change. He hadn’t seen Steven Blythe anywhere tonight, but surely if he and Kylie were still a couple, he’d be here. He’d been with her on her birthday three months ago. Alone. In her apartment. Trace had to swallow a few times to choke down the bile that rose in his throat from the memory.
Knowing it was entirely possible that a television camera could be aimed at his face at that very moment, he worked to keep his features expressionless as she continued to sing.
I’m not the one that your mama would choose. I’m not the kinda girl that you propose to. Turns out I’m just fine with a one-night stand. Baby I’m not lookin’ for a wedding band. I’m not a nice girl.
The picture-perfect moment her lyrics brought to life behind his eyes was a solid chink in the armor of his resolve to try and put the past out of his mind and move forward.
You are not a nice girl, he’d told her when he’d thrown her into his pond and she’d faked him out and pretended she couldn’t swim.
Some days he wished someone could punch him hard enough to make him forget. If he knew it would work, he’d take the hit. Happily. And at the same time, his ego swelled just a bit. It could have been a coincidence that something he’d said to her when they were together became the title of her hit single, or it could be that she still remembered too.
There wasn’t a single second of their time together—from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her in a smoke-filled bar two years ago—that he’d forgotten. And he’d tried.
She was strutting around the stage with the confidence of a superstar. Even if Steven Blythe was the one responsible, he was still proud of her. And as much as a part of him still wanted a drink, wanted to soothe the hurt of seeing her again, of knowing she probably belonged to another man—maybe even a better man—he knew he wasn’t going to give in. Not tonight at least. Tonight he was going to focus on his music and taking it one day at a time.
So he thought.
Damn that dress she had on. It was black and tight and light reflected off it all over the place. There was a longish skirt-type deal but it was wide open in the front and the sight of those perfect legs was enough to make him regret everything.
Leaving her. Going to rehab without asking her to wait for him. Going into rehab period, because it meant nine-plus long months without those firm, perfectly toned legs wrapped around him.
The tightening in his pants reminded him how very long those months had been. She was still singing, but in his head, she was moaning his name.
He closed his eyes. Hard. Trying to erase those images. It wasn’t fair to remember that. To think of her that way. He’d walked away from it. From her.
In place of her lip-biting, please-don’t-stop, I’m-coming face, another version of Kylie Ryans appeared behind his eyes. His girl. Kylie Lou. Those gorgeous eyes of hers round and wide and full of tears. Her voice was as clear in his head as it was on stage.
Don’t do this. You don’t mean it. I don’t believe you.
And even though she was wearing a black dress and singing her ass off right in front of him, the Kylie he saw was just standing there. Crying and broken in a red dress.
Just as he’d left her.
“I CHANGED my mind.”
Mia smiled as Kylie made her way to her seat between her and Donovan Taite, their friend Lily’s dad.
“About going out?”
Kylie nodded.
“Sweet. I’ll text the guys to meet us after their show. It’ll be fun. You’ll see.”
She gave Mia a taut smile. “Can’t wait.”
The truth was, she’d rather do anything else. Write, record, sleep. Take up knitting. Have dental work done. But fate was cruel and downright spiteful.
Tonight had been the biggest performance of her life and the man she’d forced out of her memory had been in the front damn row.
And he wasn’t alone.
“ARE YOU wearing that out tonight?” Mia eyed Kylie’s tattered jean skirt and her Hank Williams Junior T-shirt.
“Hell yeah I am. Why?”
Mia frowned. “I mean, I know you haven’t been out in a while but the club we’re going to is kind of—”
“I don’t have anyone to impress.”
“Yeah, well, no danger of that.” Mia rolled her eyes and linked arms with Kylie as they left her apartment.
The club was crowded and noisy. From the moment they passed through the roped-off VIP entrance, the music grated against her in a way that made her want to cringe. There was a time when she would’ve loved it. Would’ve barely been able to keep still as the bass pounded into her.