Chapter Two

Willa

T he lights of Tampa stretch out in front of me as I enter the hotel room. One thing I love about staying in hotels are the views. I have another show here in a couple of days, and I've worked in a bit of a break. It means I don't have to stay on the bus. I can sleep in a regular bed, take a bath, have a slightly normal schedule, and know where it is I'm waking up. How's that for a crazy Friday night?

"Do you want dinner?" Scott asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

"Yeah, but not anything carb heavy. If I can get something light and some ice cream, I'd really like that. Maybe grilled chicken, some veggies, and a sundae? Since I don't have a performance for a few days I won't have to carb load."

A soft smile spreads across his face. "If people only knew how seriously you have to take everything you put in your body. You're an athlete, whether they wanna admit it or not. I'll have it delivered up here to you." He picks up his overnight bag and walks toward the door. "As you requested, the next two days are yours to do what you want."

"Thanks," I sigh. "I'm grateful. I'm not sure what I'm gonna do, but I just need a bit of time off."

"Be sure to run anything outside of this room with security, and enjoy your time. I'll send the food up—do you want an hour or so?"

"Please. Phat gives me time to wind down a little and take a shower."

He does something on his phone and then looks up at me. "Done. Enjoy your night. Get some good sleep, and if you need anything from me in the next few days, just let me know. Otherwise I'm gonna leave you to yourself."

I wave at him as he leaves the suite. On my own, I head for the amazing bathroom, draw a bath, and sink into the hot water. When I can't stand the shriveled skin of my fingers anymore, I get out and wrap my body in a towel.

"Willa?" Kevin, the senior security guard on my staff says from the doorway. "Your food is here."

"Thanks," I yell out to him. "If you could have them put it on the coffee table, I'd appreciate it."

Quickly I do my skincare, run a brush through my hair, and put on a pair of shorts, along with a sweatshirt. When I feel like a normal thirty-two-year-old woman, I step out, listening to the silence. There are times when I hate silence, and other times when I love it. After being in a stadium full of people? It's what I crave, and that's where I was tonight.

Sitting on the couch, I turn the TV on and lift the lid off the plate. The smell makes my stomach growl, and the first bite that hits my tongue is the best. Moaning, I swallow before taking a sip of my wine and starting to scroll through the TV channels. There's one playing nothing but One Chicago, and it's on Chicago PD , which is the superior of the Chicago shows in my opinion.

Putting the remote down, I settle in for a night of mindless TV. Just as I'm getting started on my ice cream, my phone buzzes, and I see the face of my brother, Conner. It's a text. Since I haven't talked to him in a few days, I open the phone and see what he's sent.

C: Put this man out of his misery. He's on my fantasy football team.

W: What are you talking about?

A video comes through. Blake's smiling face, red and sheepish, appears. "She still hasn't called me. I'm not giving up though."

C: I have a lot of money riding on my team this year. Don't fuck me over. Find the bracelet and give him a call.

Reaching over to my bag, I carefully open the side pocket and pull out the bracelet with the phone number on it. I've had it for a full twenty-four hours—I'm just unsure if I want to put myself out there to another man, and in such a public way. It could make or break me, the question is whether or not I'm going to allow that to run my life anymore.

W: I'm still not sure if I want to.

C: He's not going to be like the other guy. He's not going to be scared to be seen with you, pissed because you have people following you wherever you go. He's not going to be intimidated by you because you're both in the same circles of business. He's the type of man who won't care that you wear heels because you're still not gonna be taller than him. It's time you let the trauma of that relationship go and put yourself out there.

I blow out a breath, taking another drink of my wine.

W: That's easy for you to say. Your relationships aren't scrutinized by the entire world. I guarantee you as soon as I show up in public with another man, they're going to say something like ‘I bet she'll be with someone else in five minutes,' even though my last relationship was seven years. It's like they can't differentiate between the fact that I started in this business when I was a teenager, and now I'm old enough to actually be someone's mother.

C: No, I get that, and everyone else who knows you does too. I know it's hard to just ignore it, but I want you to be happy. I don't want you to sit in some hotel room by yourself and think about where you should be in your life.

C: I also want my fantasy football team to do well. Sue me.

I snort loudly, but a voice I'm beginning to recognize comes on the TV. It's Blake, on a commercial for a new SUV that's coming out. I take a moment to look at him as a woman looking at a man. He's hot. As my brother said, he's tall as fuck, with muscles built from hard work in the gym, kind eyes, a sexy smile, and the mustache? Well, I could do without that. Maybe I could talk him into a beard?

W: Whatever, Conner. I love you, but I'm going to bed.

C: Love you too. Remember my team needs to do well.

I roll my eyes and click out of our text chain. There's a reason I'm not able to perform in Tampa one of the next two nights, and considering one of them is a Sunday, I wonder if it's because of a game. Pulling up the Tampa schedule, my heart beats harder when I see the Tampa team is playing the Warriors on Sunday.

I can't stop thinking about it—doing something different and having a secret for myself. One of my sound guys has a brother who plays for the Warriors. I quickly find his name and send off a text.

W: If I give you something to give to your brother to pass along for me, do you think he'll do it?

I don't expect him to answer me immediately, but he does. Sure. He'll do anything for you.

W: Thank you!

One of the things I always carry with me, when I travel, is a friendship bracelet kit. I made them when I was little, and they've become a thing for my fans to share at my concerts. Pulling my boxes out, I sit down on the couch with my legs tucked under me, crisscross apple sauce, and painstakingly pick out what I want to put on it. My fingers slightly shake as I slide the beads on the string and wonder if what I'm doing is the right thing or not.

As I tie off the string, I give myself a small smile, and send up a prayer. Whatever will be will be—and I hope with everything I have that it'll be a happy ending.