A burden was the last thing she ever wanted to be.
So she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Cade. I can’t do this. I care for you”
“Last night you said you loved me.” The pain in his blue eyes was stark.
“I do love you,” Kylie said. “But that doesn’t mean I can be with you. Not now. Maybe not ever. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t understand, Kylie.” He shook his head, baffled. “Don’t do this. Don’t separate us again. Whatever it is, whatever’s bothering you, I can help. Whatever your burdens, let me share them”
But she went still at the word burdens. “I’m sorry,” she said. She shoved her way past him, down the hall, and into the elevator that was just about to close.
He didn’t come after her. Kylie squeezed her eyes shut, willing her tears to wait until she got into the cab waiting to take her to the airport.
She almost made it, too.
TWENTY
One week later
“How’s Daphne doing?” Cade asked Carmela as he dodged taxis, crossing a busy intersection in Manhattan. “She adjusting?”
“She’s doing really well,” Carmela said cheerfully. “Smoking like a damn chimney, but I figure we can tackle one thing at a time. Oh, and she’s cranky and irritable as hell, but overall, she’s doing well.” She paused for a moment. “She’d say hello, but she’s currently got her head in the toilet.”
He smiled to hear that. At least someone’s life was turning around. “Tell her the vomiting goes away soon enough and she’ll be happier for it.”
A pause. “She says fuck you, and she can handle it,” Carmela said, and chuckled. “Seriously though, things are good. Well, mostly. I’m going to go get you some more smokes, Daph,” Carmela called, and he heard her walking on the other end of the phone. She must have had something to tell him that she didn’t want Daphne to hear.
He’d hired Carmela onto his own payroll, doubling her pay so she’d report back to him no matter her loyalty to Daphne. He wanted the full truth of what was going on, not a glossed-over version. And Carmela was good at reporting back.
A moment later, he heard a door close on the other end of the phone and Carmela sighed. “Okay.”
“What’s wrong?” Cade asked, stepping into an alcove in front of a closed storefront so he could continue the conversation privately.
“So . . . it’s that dick. Mr. Powers. Remember you hired a new manager for Daph last year? Well, the label didn’t like him and booted him almost right away. They replaced him with Mr. Powers, and he’s a bit of a control freak. Like, he’s the one that had me give Daph the oxy to keep her on a leash. Said it was less dangerous than any of the street stuff she could score, and she could still perform with it.” Carmela paused.
Cade frowned. “He’s not trying to give her more drugs, is he?”
“No, not yet. But here’s the thing. He came by yesterday and made her cry. Told her she was costing the label a fortune and she was a piece of shit, and how she was a drain on finances and she’d let down her fans. That she was a laughingstock. He said she had a week to get clean and then he’d expect her back in the studio if she couldn’t finish her tour.”
“What? She’s supposed to be in rehab for at least a month.”
“I know,” Carmela said worriedly. “Daph said he was full of shit and just throwing his weight around, but he really upset her. Made her cry a little, and then she spent the rest of the afternoon chain-smoking and staring out the window. Took a lot of pep talks to get her in a good mood today.” She sighed. “That fucking label, man. I knew the contracts were evil and all, but shit. I thought ours were bad just because we were the little peons. I bet Daphne’s is horrible, too. She’s hinted as much. No wonder she’s such a stress monkey.”
He frowned into his phone. “The last thing she needs right now is the label hounding her.”
“I know. But what can you do? I’d say appeal to his higher-ups but I think he is the higher-ups.”
He’d see about that. “Let me handle it.”
“I just don’t want them to do to Daph what they did to Kylie, you know?”
He stilled. “What did they do to Kylie, exactly?” He still ached every time he thought of her. Kept checking his phone in the vain hope that she’d text or call. Something. But it was utter silence on that front. And a week later? He still wasn’t fucking over it. He was still raw and miserable and wanting desperately to understand why she’d abandoned him. He’d hoped for more from her.