20. Waylon

Chapter Twenty

WAYLON

" O h, you look like shit." I resist the urge to flip her off when Jenny answers the door because I know she's not wrong. I just got back to Kansas City from Nashville, and I feel as bad as I look.

I didn't want to leave.

I didn't ever want to leave him, and that's when I knew I needed to leave. It wouldn't have worked out anyway. He's my client for one, which was stupid enough, hooking up with him, but catching feels for a client is unacceptable.

It never works out.

"Where's my dog?" is all I can manage as my dog takes that moment to run right to me, yipping away excitedly. I scoop him up into my arms, cuddling into his soft fur.

"Nope. You aren't hiding behind Cujo." Her fingers wrap around my wrist, and she pulls me further into her house. "Get in here."

I follow her, still carrying my dog before I sit down on her familiar sofa and don't let him go, cuddling him to my chest. "I don't want to talk about it."

I hear her heavy sigh, and I'm sure she's judging me. I'm judging me too. It was stupid. Really fucking stupid. "Are you still his manager?"

I nod numbly. "I think so. He didn't officially fire me."

There's silence for a long time before she sits next to me on the couch and pulls me into her, letting me lay my head on her small shoulder. "I'm sorry, Waylon."

I sniffle a little, and I can't look her in the eyes. "It was for the best. You were right. It never ends well."

I can feel her wanting to say more, but blessedly, she doesn't. She's quiet as she hugs me to her, which means I must be even more pathetic than I feel right now. I'm smarter than this.

I know better. I did fall for him. I know I did. It was real. But I only would have hurt him, or he would have hurt me, or we would have just epically destroyed one another. My life is here. I love the life I've built. I'm so damn proud of it.

I can't give that up.

And he's finally happy. In his little cabin in Tennessee, touring only to large bar gigs that he approves of. He's calling the shots now. I went there for one reason and one reason only, to make sure he was settled and okay.

And he is.

I think he's more than settled now. I watched him on that stage, and I saw the peace on his face. And I knew it was time to leave.

"We need wine," Jenny declares and jumps up from the couch, my dog climbing off my lap to follow after her. I don't argue. A good glass or two of wine will fix me right up.

Maybe.

Probably.

I always bounce back. It's kind of my thing. I'll be fine, and Justin will be great.

I 'm not fine. Not at all. I feel numb and aching in ways I never knew was possible. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me. Normally, I love going over to Ryan and Grady's house, but tonight, it took everything inside me not to send a text telling them I couldn't make it.

But I couldn't do it. They're my best friends in the world besides Jenny, and I haven't seen them for far too long. It's only been a week since I left Nashville, and most things have gone back to fairly normal.

I've caught up with most of my clients in person. I've set up gigs for Justin, to which he replied with a thumbs-up emoji each time I sent him the information. But I know he'll go to them.

It's just a feeling I have, but I know he loved it.

I should have mentioned that I could go with him to each one, but I felt too raw to do it. Never has that happened to me, where I didn't offer my services to a damn client, but it's too soon. I need a break.

I need to give my brain a chance to get with the damn program.

I'll get back to it. I will.

I ring the doorbell, holding onto the expensive bottle of wine I brought as a gift like a security blanket, pressing it against my chest and clinging to it. Ryan answers the door, his eyes glistening with delight. "Finally."

"Hey, sorry. I know I'm late."

He just waves it off and pulls me in for a hug. "It's very unlike you."

It's true. I'm punctual to a fault. Always on time. Never ever late. Always professional. "Sorry," I say, barely getting the word out.

"You okay?" He pulls out of the hug, studying me way too damn closely. He knows me too well, and I don't like feeling on display.

Thankfully, one of his twins, Kiera, comes running up at that same time and leaps into my arms. "Hey, baby girl!"

"Uncle Waylon!" She's four and so damn cute, I can barely stand it. With big blue eyes and blond pigtails. "Where have you been?"

Ryan laughs and takes the bottle of wine from me so I can hug her better. I carry her further inside and snuggle up to her. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I had some business to attend to."

"Where?" she asks, scrunching up her cute little nose as I sit us both down on the couch in the living room. I don't get a chance to answer her because her twin brother comes running into the living room with his racecar, zooming it all over the coffee table.

"Uncle Waylon! You're back!" he says, before launching the racecar across the room and chasing after it.

"Yeah. I am. Did you miss me, Connor?" He just nods but then runs off, and I laugh, addressing my little princess, "Nashville."

"Where is that?" she asks, her attention fully on me with those wide eyes.

"Tennessee," I say just as Grady walks into the living room, his eyes meeting mine in a warm greeting.

"Finally. Where have you been?"

"‘Nessee," Kiera answers, and I smile at her attempt.

"What is that?" Their oldest daughter Kristy walks into the room, looking far too old for me. She's eight now, but I think she grew a foot since I saw her last. Time, slow down.

"Tennessee. It's where Uncle Waylon has been," Grady says, kissing the top of her head. Goddamn, it's still weird seeing him as a parent. He's damn good at it, that's for sure, but he's the rockstar. The playboy. The fucking manwhore, honestly.

And now he's married to his best friend with three beautiful kids. Happy as hell. How the hell does he do it?

"Oh," Kristy says, shrugging and then sitting next to me on the couch. "Did you bring me anything?"

I laugh as Grady admonishes her, "Kristy."

"What?" she asks with big bright eyes.

I only laugh. Holy shit, I missed them so damn much. My family. "I'm sorry. I was kind of busy, but I should have brought you something."

Grady sighs, and Ryan laughs as he walks into the room. "You don't have to bring them anything when you go away for business."

There's a loud crash followed by a loud, "Dad! Daddy!" from Connor, and Ryan is on it.

"No bones better be broken!" he hollers as he walks down the hall toward Connor's room. Grady shakes his head, smiling as Kristy and Kiera shuffle off to assess the damage.

"If bones were broken, he'd be screaming bloody murder," Grady says, settling into the couch across from where I'm sitting. "It's good to see you."

I still wait for more cries, but when it's quiet, I let out a relieved sigh and address my old friend. "It's good to see you too."

"You missed the twins' birthday, you know."

"Fuck," I curse, "I'm so damn sorry. Fuck. How did I miss that?" I'm appalled. I've been there for every birthday.

"Hey, it's okay." Grady looks a little worried. "I was just giving you shit. Don't get upset about it."

"You know how much these kids mean to me," I say earnestly, looking over at him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to miss it."

"They're okay. You're here now." He's watching me closely. "Are you okay?"

No. I'm so far from okay. "I'm fine."

He doesn't believe me. That's very clear by the way he cocks his head to the side. "No, you aren't," he says, and it pisses me off instantly. And then he says something else, something that makes my blood run cold, and all the sadness comes rearing back. "Justin looked really happy at that bar."

Justin.

Just his goddamn name kills me. This is not good. "Mm-hmm," I say noncommittally.

Please talk about anything else.

Grady just leans forward a little, his eyes on me, and then he sighs deeply and shakes his head like he's disappointed. "When Jenny told us you went to Tennessee to find Justin, I thought you'd finally done it."

"Done what?" I can't help but ask.

"Went after something you wanted. For you."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I ask, shifting uncomfortably on the couch.

"You know what I'm talking about." His eyes narrow. "Justin. You went after Justin. Finally."

I blink and then blink again, trying to focus. "Of course I did. He's a client who needed help." I try to hold my chin up high. "I went and helped him. I'd do the same for you."

His expression is angry. "That's not what I mean, and you know it. Stop playing stupid little games, Waylon. I know you too well for that shit."

"Look, I'm sorry I missed the twins' birthday. I feel awful about that." I stand up, wanting to leave. "I'll make it up to them."

"It isn't about the twins," he says, standing up too. "And you know it. They're fine. They missed you, of course, we all did. But still, I was hoping you were finally going after happiness."

I glare at him. "I am happy."

"Bullshit," he says calmly, his gaze serious but also a little sad. Shit, I think that's pity. I don't want to see pity. "You could be though. Why did you leave him?"

My chest aches at the question. So badly, I absently rub over the spot with my hand. "He was happy. I got him settled. Which is what I went there to do. I did my job," I say firmly with way more conviction that I actually feel.

"Bullshit," he says again, more easily this time. "Why can't you admit it?"

"Admit what? You're really pissing me off, Grady," I say with as much venom as I can muster. He really is my family. His family is my only family besides Jenny. I don't want to hurt him or really push him away, but I don't want to talk about this.

"That you're in love with him."

I rear back as if he slapped me right across the face. "What? I am not in love with him," I sputter.

"You've been in love with him for a long damn time, Waylon." Grady says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and I feel like I can't catch my breath.

"No. I haven't. He's a client."

He just shakes his head. "No. He's not. He never was."

I just stare at Grady. My friend. My family. "Of course he was. You think I took advantage of him? That I had other motives for becoming his agent?"

"Of course not," he says softly. "You're the best manager anyone could ask for. You were fantastic for Immoral, but there was something different between you and Justin. There always was. And it wasn't one-sided."

I shake my head like a lunatic. "That's not true. It was a professional relationship, and when he got sick of being famous, he ran off. I needed to check on him. That's all. I would do it for you in a heartbeat."

Grady places a hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me. "I know you would. All I'm saying is you two have been in love for a long time. And because you're a professional, I know nothing happened. You wouldn't let it. You guarded yourself from those feelings, but when he left..."—he squeezes my shoulder gently—"I thought maybe you two were going to go for it. That you'd follow him and confess your love."

"You've been watching too many movies," I say, but I still feel like I can't breathe.

"You're being an idiot," he says quietly. Not angry. Sad.

"I don't love him. I crossed a line with him I shouldn't have, and I'm making up for it, but it isn't love. I don't have time for love," I say, my deepest truth coming out. I told myself a long time ago I was going to be successful and would do anything I needed to, including putting my love life on the back burner.

I didn't need it. Love isn't a permanent thing. My parents had conditions for their love. My. Parents. The people who should have loved me most just... didn't.

He's looking at me with so much pity now, it feels like it's crushing me. "Make the time. Life is too short, Waylon. You deserve to be happy."

"I am," I say it but don't feel it, and it's not convincing. "I'm fine," I try again.

"Please don't do this to yourself," he says, and I swear I see his eyes glistening a little bit. "You're one of my best friends in the world. I want to see you happy."

"Not everyone needs love to be happy," I say because I believe that. Some people are perfectly happy never being in a relationship. It doesn't make them any less fulfilled, damn it.

"That's true," he agrees, and I feel slightly triumphant, but then he opens his mouth again. "But you do. I've seen the way you look at him. I see the love there. Don't be stupid."

"Drop it," I say bitingly because I can't have this conversation anymore. I'm trying to move on and heal.

I need to move on.

Thankfully, he just purses his lips and gives me a pinched, pained looked before calling for the kids to help him set the table. They run into the dining room excitedly, and he walks out of the room.

Ryan comes in after them, but stops at me, his eyes on my face. "You okay?"

I shake my head, too tired to lie. "No."

He hugs me like he was expecting that, and then we head into the dining room to join the family. I'm grateful he doesn't push it and that Grady doesn't bring it up again even as we're saying goodbye.

I go back to my home with my dog, and I try like hell not to think about how quiet it is. How empty.

This is not like me. I love my home. I love the quiet.

I don't need to complicate my life. I'm not Ryan and Grady.

Damn them.