Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Please, for the love of all that is holy, stop, Am,” I moaned from the passenger seat the very next night.

Our student driver, who was currently behind the wheel of my car, didn’t even bother looking at me as he shook his head in dismay and said, “We left half an hour ago!”

He was totally right. We’d left his aunt’s house exactly thirty minutes ago. I’d even peed right before we’d walked out of her doors. But what he didn’t know was that I’d chugged a cup of coffee right before all that just in case I’d had to drive home since Rhodes had drunk a couple of beers. “You know I have a tiny bladder. Please, you don’t want me to have to pay you to clean my car because I peed in here.”

From the seat behind mine, Rhodes made a sound that had to be a bark of a laugh.

“You don’t want to smell pee for the next hour.”

The teenager finally glanced over with an alarmed expression.

“Please, Am, please. If you love me—and I know you do—stop at the next station. At the next pull-off. I’d be happy going just over to the side of the road right here, and I’ll be fast.”

That time, Rhodes definitely didn’t muffle his laugh or what came afterward. “No peeing on the side of the road. A state trooper will drive by, and I won’t be able to talk him out of giving you a ticket for indecent exposure.”

I moaned.

“Am, there’s a gas station coming up in about five or ten minutes. Can you hold it ’til then?” Rhodes asked, leaning forward between the seats.

I squeezed my muscles—noticing again how sore that area in general was from last night—and gave him a tight nod before pressing my legs together even closer.

His hand came up and settled on my forearm, the thumb rubbing along the sensitive skin there. I grinned at him, which more than likely looked like a sneer from me squeezing my muscles again to ease the urge to pee.

Today had been a great, great day. We’d left right at eight in the morning, with Am saying five words until eleven mostly because he’d been passed out in the back seat. Rhodes and I had talked about Colorado and some of the things he’d learned while in training, explaining how there was a game warden, or a DWM as he called himself when he was being fancy, that handled all the areas closer to Montrose versus the southwest of the state like he did. We listened to some music, but mostly, he talked and I ate up every word and especially every sly smile he sent my way.

He didn’t need to actually tell me, but I could tell he was thinking about last night too. Hopefully thinking about how we should have a repeat ASAP. I’d settle for draping myself over his bare chest again like we’d done afterward too.

Am’s aunt had been just as nice as I remembered from Thanksgiving, and I’d had such a nice time crashing their party, talking a ton to Rhodes, a little to Am, who mostly hung out with his uncle Johnny and his dad, and helping out in the kitchen as much as possible. I’d ducked outside in the cold for a little while to call my aunt and uncle and wish them a Merry Christmas, and talked to my cousins for a bit too.

We’d left right after four, because Rhodes had to work tomorrow. He’d asked if it was okay if we let Amos drive, and I’d been all about it—at least until he started to get stingy with the stops thirty minutes in. The roads had been plowed that morning, and the temperature had warmed to a pretty perfect forty-five degrees, keeping the roads free of ice, so it hadn’t felt like a safety hazard to let him drive. Rhodes had only complained a little when I’d begged him to stop twice on the way up.

I was just about panting though when I spotted the sign for the gas station in the distance, having kept quiet because it was taking all of my effort not to pee myself, period.

“Finally!” I moaned when he turned right and headed for the pump.

“We’re going to get gas,” Rhodes said as his son parked.

“Okay, I’ll pay you back. I gotta go,” I hissed as I threw open the door, having taken my seat belt off while he’d been turning, and flew out of there.

I heard them both laugh, but I had better things to do.

Luckily, I’d been in so many gas stations by this point in my life that I had an inner magnet for where the bathrooms were and spotted them instantly, pretty much waddling toward the sign because every step got that much harder. It wasn’t a huge travel center, but the station was a surprising size with a full-size bathroom with stalls. I peed about two minutes straight, or at least half my weight in fluid, and got out of there as fast as I could. The employee behind the counter looked away from where she’d been focused outside and nodded at me. I nodded back.

And it was then that I noticed what she’d been looking at.

There was a huge class A bus that had pulled into the offset section where I figured 18-wheelers in the area stopped at.

The door was open, and people were filing out of it, yawning and rubbing at their faces. It was too many people to not be a tour bus, I recognized.

Rhodes or Am had moved the car one pump over, and they were both hanging outside of it, Am staring at the pump and Rhodes leaning against the car, gaze on me.

I waved at him.

He shot me one of those low-key, devastating smiles that made me want to hug him.

And that was when it went to shit.

“Ora?” the unfamiliar voice called out.

Looking to my left, maybe ten feet away from the two men I loved and was in love with, I recognized two other faces. Why wouldn’t I though? I’d known them for ten years. I thought they’d been my friends. And based on the pale expressions that had taken over their features, they were just as surprised to see me too. I was so caught off guard I froze and blinked, making sure I wasn’t imagining Simone and Arthur.

“It is you! Ora!” That was Simone who called out, tugging at Arthur’s jacket.

Arthur didn’t look all that excited.

I couldn’t blame him. I was sure he knew he was on my permanent shit list. And even though I thought I was a pretty decent person, I felt my facial features drop into a blank expression.

And I guess I decided to ignore them because I managed another two steps that brought me closer to Rhodes and Am before Simone’s hand wrapped around my inner arm just as she said, “Ora, please.”

I didn’t snatch my arm out, but I did glance at her fingers before meeting her dark brown eyes and saying, calmly, perfectly fucking calm, “Hi, Simone. Hi, Arthur. Nice to know you’re alive. Bye.”

She didn’t let go, and when I met her gaze, there was something in hers that looked desperate. I didn’t even bother glancing at Arthur because I’d known him a year longer than Simone—I’d been in his wedding party for his first marriage—and I wasn’t about to let them ruin what had been a wonderful Christmas.

“I know you’re mad,” Simone said quickly, keeping her hand on me. “I’m sorry, Ora. We’re both sorry, aren’t we, Art?”

His “yes” was so sad maybe I would’ve played a tiny violin if I’d been in a better mood. If this had been any other day. Just maybe if I had been by myself.

One glance up had me meeting Rhodes’s frown. Amos I guess was watching too, wondering who the hell I was talking to at a random gas station in the middle of nowhere. I knew then, in that moment, that I had to tell them about Kaden. That I couldn’t just keep giving them, especially Rhodes, vague details about my life. I knew I’d gotten lucky so far that he hadn’t poked at the huge holes in my life story considering how much we’d nudged at just about every other painful thing in our lives.

“Okay, I’m glad you feel bad. There’s nothing for us to say to each other. Please let go of me, Simone,” I said, giving her a long look.

She looked tired, and I wondered who she was on tour with now, who they were on tour with. Then I reminded myself it didn’t matter.

“No, please, give me a second. I was just thinking about you earlier, and it’s a miracle you’re here. Someone said you’d moved to Colorado, but what were the chances?” she rattled off, and I just kept on staring at her, but noticed out of the corner of my eye that Rhodes started heading over.

I lifted my arm and snuck it out of her grip. “Yeah, a coincidence. Bye.”

“Ora.” Arthur’s voice was quiet. “We are sorry.”

I’m sure, I thought, almost bitterly, but I really genuinely didn’t care much anymore. What I cared about was wasting my time talking to them when I could be around people who hadn’t turned their backs on me. People who wouldn’t just start ignoring my phone calls when their boss and I broke up, even though I’d technically been their boss too in a way. Because always, always, I had thought we were real friends. At some point over the years, I’d ended up spending more time with Kaden’s band than I did with him because his mom started to complain about how flimsy my excuse of being his assistant was.

These people, Arthur and Simone included, had . . . they had taught me how to play their instruments. They had told me when things didn’t work with my songwriting. We had gone to movies together, the theater, out to eat, birthday parties, bowling . . .

Even when we hadn’t been on tour together, they had still texted.

Until they’d stopped completely.

“Kaden just told us you two broke up, and then Mrs. Jones sent out an email saying that if she caught any of us communicating with you, that would be the last day we worked for her,” Arthur started to say before I gave him my own flat look.

“I believe you, but was that before or after I’d tried calling you with my new number and left voice mails and texts you never replied to? You knew I would never rat anyone out to her.”

He closed his mouth, but apparently Simone decided it was a good idea to keep talking.

“We’re sorry. We didn’t find out until a few months ago what all happened, and Kaden’s been a mess. He’s asked all of us if we’d heard from you, and he canceled his tour, did you hear? That’s why we’re out here with Holland.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I know that Mrs. Jones had told you all we were breaking up before I knew. Bruce told me.” He was the roadie I had stayed with in Utah. “You could have warned me, but you didn’t. Both of you know I’m not a snitch. If it would have been one of you, I would’ve said something. Like I told you, Simone, when Mrs. Jones was whispering about firing you when you gained weight, remember? Didn’t I warn you?”

“But Kaden—” Simone started to say.

“I don’t care anymore, and that’s the truth. You don’t need to feel bad either. At least I can say thank you for not giving them my number . . . even though you didn’t say anything so you wouldn’t risk getting fired if Mrs. Jones thought you were lying about actually talking to me, huh?” I snorted. “You know what? Good luck on tour,” I said as calmly as possible before turning around and coming face to chest with Rhodes, who had snuck behind me.

Beside him was Am.

And they were both looking at me with guarded, huge eyes that instantly sent panic piercing through my chest. Not much, but enough. More than enough.

Shit.

I didn’t want them to find out like this. Well, I hadn’t wanted them to find out, period, but I’d planned on eventually telling them anyway. Admitting the last piece of the Aurora’s ex puzzle.

And now these two “friends” that I’d used to have, who had stopped answering my calls and texts, had taken that away from me.

I opened my mouth to tell them I’d explain in the car, even as a dull ache of shame filled my chest, but Rhodes beat me to it.

“Your ex’s name is Kaden?” he asked slowly, way too slowly. “Kaden . . . Jones?”

And before I could answer that, Amos’s mouth pressed together so tight, his lips went white and his eyebrows dropped into a confused and either hurt or angry expression.

Fucking hell. This was my fault, and yes, I could blame Simone and Arthur, but at the end of the day, it was my fault for putting Rhodes and Am into this position. There was nothing to do but tell them the truth. “Yeah. That’s him,” I answered weakly, that same wave of shame flowing over me.

Just one of the biggest fucking country artists of the decade.

Thanks to me partly.

“Your ex is the country guy on the insurance commercials? The one with the song for Thursday Night Football?” Rhodes asked in that ultra-serious voice I hadn’t heard in forever.

“You said . . .” Am started to say before shaking his head, his throat and cheeks turning pink.

I had no idea if he was mad or hurt, maybe it was both, and I suddenly felt terrible. Worse, honestly, than a year and a half ago when life as I’d known it had gotten pulled out from under me. Fisting my hands, I tried to get my thoughts together. “Yes, that’s him. I didn’t want to tell you who he was because—”

“You said you were married,” Amos muttered. “I know he’s not because Jackie used to talk about him all the time.”

“We were, technically. Common-law marriage. I could’ve taken him for half his things, I have the proof. I went to a lawyer. I had a case, but . . .”

It was Rhodes who opened his mouth and shook his head, the tendon along his neck rising out of nowhere. “You lied to us?”

“I didn’t lie to you!” I whispered. “I just . . . didn’t tell you. What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, strangers, guess what? I wasted fourteen years of my life with one of the most famous people in the country? I wrote all of his music and let him take credit for it because I was dumb and naïve? He dumped me because his mom didn’t think I was good enough? Because he didn’t love me enough?’” That familiar shame seemed to squeeze down on my chest.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Simone and Arthur begin inching away with an “I’m sorry” that I didn’t care enough about to acknowledge.

“You wrote his music too?” Am genuinely whispered, using that same voice I hadn’t heard since the first time we’d met and his dad had busted us and his plan. “And didn’t tell me?”

“Yeah, Am, I did. That’s why they paid me off. I told you both I got money from our split. I just never told either of you his name . . . I was embarrassed.”

The teenager set his jaw. “You don’t think we deserved to know?”

I glanced at Rhodes and felt my heartbeat over my neck and face. “I was going to tell you at some point, but it just . . . I wanted you to like me for me. For who I am.”

He shook his head slowly, eyebrows knitting together. “You didn’t think it was important that you were married to some rich, famous guy? That you made us think you were some sad, divorced woman who had to start all over again?”

Anger and hurt suddenly punched me right in the chest. “I was sad, and I was technically divorced. He used to call me his wife in private. Around very close friends. He didn’t legally marry me because it would ruin his image. Because single men sold more records than married ones. And I did have nothing. The money doesn’t mean shit to me. Besides your Christmas presents and a little money here and there I’ve spent on things and other people, I haven’t spent it on anything. And I did have to start all over again, like I told you. He came home, said it was over, and the next day, his lawyer sent me a notice to leave the house. Everything was under his name. I had to move in with Yuki for a month before I had the strength to go back to Florida,” I explained, shaking my head. “All I left with were the same things I brought here.”

Rhodes lifted his head toward the sky and shook it. He was pissed. Which, fine, okay, if he had dated . . . Yuki, I would want to know. But I hadn’t lied. And I’d just been trying to protect what little pride I had left. Was that so wrong?

“You wrote that football song, didn’t you?” Amos asked in that tiny voice that felt like a kick to my sternum.

My heart fell, but I nodded at him.

His nostrils flared, and his cheeks went even more pink. “You told me my songs were good.”

What?“Because they are, Am!”

My teenage friend looked down, and his lips pressing together so hard they went white.

“I’m not lying,” I insisted. “They are good. You knew about Yuki. I told you I’d written things that people had recorded. I tried to hint at it. But I just didn’t want you to be nervous, that’s why I—”

Without looking at me or his dad, Amos turned around, walked toward the car, and got into the passenger seat.

My heart crashed to my toes, and I forced myself to glance at Rhodes. “I’m sorry—” I started to say before he met my gaze, that stubborn chin a hard point on his face.

He blinked. “How much money did he give you?”

“Ten million.”

He flinched.

“I told you I had money saved,” I reminded him weakly.

One of those big hands came up, and he scrubbed at his head through the knit hat he’d put on. He didn’t say a word.

“Rhodes . . .”

He didn’t even look at me as he turned around and got into the car.

Fuck.

I swallowed hard. There was no one to blame but myself, and I damn well knew it. But if I could just explain. I just hadn’t told them Kaden’s name or been specific about how much songwriting I’d done . . . at least for who. I’d hinted. I’d never lied. Was it so wrong that I didn’t want to admit I hadn’t written anything new in forever? I didn’t even worry about that anymore. I didn’t think about it.

We were just going to need a little time.Once they stopped being mad, I could explain all over again. From the beginning. Everything.

It would be fine.

They loved me and I loved them.

But even having a plan didn’t help when neither of them said a single word to me, or each other, the entire ride back to Pagosa.