Even worse, he owns my heart. Even that hidden away part. Somehow, he found the key.
Now I just need to figure out how to survive him without shattering or losing myself.
I think maybe I can.
And as I fall asleep in his arms, I realize it’s not a hard choice. Now that he’s broken through, I wonder why I ever thought it was.
The tour is the wildest experience of my life. As he promised, Travis keeps me close to him. We ride the tour bus across Arkansas and Oklahoma, through parts of Texas, to Arizona where we even make a detour to see the Grand Canyon because it’s Travis’s favorite place. And now mine too. I want to stay longer but we have to stick to the schedule. Travis tells me we’ll come back here on our honeymoon, then he gives me a look that’s equal parts hot lust and hopefulness and I fall deeper in love with him. Ever since he broke through my realization, I feel like I’m in free fall. I can’t slow it down.
And then it’s time.
An hour before my first performance, I’m so nervous that Travis and Vaughn insist I do two shots of whiskey. No more, no less. Miraculously, it helps. I guess that’s why they call it liquid courage. It takes the edge off my terror of performing on my own for a sold out crowd of 70,000 at the SoFi stadium in Los Angeles. Roxie comes into my dressing room and gives me a hug and a beaming once-over. She helped me choose my costumes. The dress is a short, glam, white little number with sequined fringe that probably cost more than my daddy used to earn in a year. I touch the cross I wear on my necklace that he gave me and I think of him.
I’m here. I made it. I know you can see me tonight.
I kiss Travis like I’ve never kissed him—like I need him with everything I have—until Vaughn whistles, then I walk out onto the stage and I sing my heart out. When they cheer for me, which is the most deafening sound I’ve ever heard in my life, I feel like I’m flying.
We do shows in L.A., San Diego, Las Vegas and San Francisco. When Travis hears that my mother and sisters aren’t sure about driving such a long way, he charters a private jet and puts them up in some fancy hotel in San Francisco so they can see our show. They love it.
My reviews have been mostly good. The press latched onto my story, about the naïve country bumpkin making it big. And they can’t get enough of my romance with Travis. My downloads are through the roof and I now have thirty million followers. Which is hard to even think about.
It’s not perfect, though, and not all the reviews are glowing. Like the particularly brutal one that honed in on one detail that’s worried me from the beginning. Namely, that I’m touring with the band only because I happen to be sleeping with Travis.
Travis Tucker’s barely-legal girlfriend got the lucky score of a lifetime when she got hired to be the opening act of the Tucker Brothers Band on their 12-show West Coast tour. The girl has talent, sure, but it’s unrefined and lacks the superstardom vibe the brothers so convincingly bring to their legendary performances. No offence, Travis, but maybe hire a singing-and-performing coach for your fresh-out-of-the-convent tween girlfriend before unleashing her onto the music scene just because you happen to be enjoying all that in the sack.
I cried, because it was painfully true.
Travis didn’t even flinch. “Shit, honey, that’s rule number one: never read your reviews. People’ll say anything for attention and to get whatever twisted revenge they can on anyone who’s more successful than they are. You’re here because we want you here.”
Or, more accurately, he wants me here.
Travis placated me by showing me another review.
The Tucker Brothers Band ups their game with their newest addition to their 12-show Sunstorm Tour, the dazzling rookie Ruby Hayes. Smoky-edged innocence meets a raw powerhouse of talent, delivered in a sultry-sweet package that has audiences spellbound by the newbie’s unfiltered X-factor. Definitely one to watch. Ruby Hayes is sure to excite fans as much as she’s clearly exciting Travis Tucker.
Wow.
Travis is much more experienced than I am, and he has a much thicker skin. “The best way to prove the cynics wrong is by forging ahead, staying true to yourself and singing your heart out the way only you can,” he said. “Your voice is beautiful, baby, and so are you. Don’t give it another minute of your time.”
So I try to do exactly what he tells me to do.
After that, it was Sacramento and Reno.
And then Portland.
Tonight.
I’ve been too busy to make a plan with Chase. And I’ve been careful about corresponding with him. On tour, Travis is both fierce and focused. The music and the performances take over everything. He’s less relaxed and more possessive than ever before. And I’ve changed. I’m head over heels in love with him. All of me. He’s continued to break me open. He gets me to talk about the painful things and the beautiful things, right before he makes sweet, thorough love to me. He’s as transformative and spiritually enlightening as he is physically mind-blowing.
I still haven’t said the three little words I know he wants to hear, even though I show him every chance I get.
I can admit that there is one question I want answered. For a while, Chase was my entire world. I loved him the way only a fourteen-year-old girl who’s just lost her father and feels scared and lonely can love: with a passion that borders on worship. For a long time I was convinced that he and I would be together again, that we would end up together and this is the way things were meant to be. It’s a scenario that Chase has always—and especially lately—been feeding the flames of. He’s convinced that Travis is my “world experience.” He thinks I’m sowing my wild oats but that, deep down, I’m convinced Chase is my destiny.
I know better now.
But I want to see him again.
I already know how I’ll feel but I’m curious.
Four years is a long time.
I sing my songs and it’s strange to know he’s out there in the crowd somewhere. I finish my set and then I join Travis on stage for his third song—our song, one we wrote together that’s on my album. Then I head back to my dressing room. When the band has their intermission, Travis pulls me onto his lap and I give him a sip of whiskey straight from the bottle before kissing his lips. I love how he buzzes during his performances. Like he’s made of pure, hot, male energy. “Get a room, you two,” complains Vaughn, but then it’s time for them to go back on for their second set.
It’s only then, once Travis has gone, that I check my messages.
It’s only then that I hear a knock on the door of my dressing room.
I go over and open it.
And I’m enveloped in a huge bear hug. He twirls me around and then sets me down and I can only stare at him. “Chase.”
His palms rest on my bare shoulders and he gazes at me. All of me. “Ruby Hayes. Wow. Look at you. You are so beautiful.”
“I can’t believe it’s you.” He hasn’t changed. He’s still handsome, in a lanky, boyish kind of a way. Chase and I are almost exactly the same age. His birthday is one week before mine. He looks … young. I’m used to Travis’s in-your-face masculinity, his seasoned virility and his alpha intensity that hits me right below my navel—among other places—every time I look at him.