“I need to say this. All of it. I need you to hear me.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “Okay.”
“Seeing you up on that stage that first night, hearing my song, your way…” He took a deep breath. “You brought my world into focus. The mess, the pain. You made me see the things I’d tried to blur out, to drink away.”
She wiped the tears that had begun to fall as he continued.
“You said you were broken, Kylie. That I made you feel alive… But you really did bring me back to life that night. Seeing you on stage, lit up and so in love with music, with the gift of it, changed me.”
He let out a small laugh. “And you scared me to death. Because with that beautiful, amazing girl damn near glowing on stage next to me, my every weakness came to light.”
“You were never weak,” she whispered.
“Yeah I was.” He reached out and wiped a tear that had fallen to her lips. “But you loving me, believing in me, having the kind of faith in me that no one had ever had… It gave me the strength to get help. You thought I was better than I was, so I wanted to be that for you.”
“I will always love you, Trace. No matter what. Whatever you brought me here to tell me, it’s okay. We’ll be okay.” She pressed her lips to his and drank in his warmth.
“I hope so,” he said when their kiss ended. He smiled but she knew it was strained.
Sometimes she could read him so well, could recognize when he was nervous, bluffing at poker, or excited. But in that moment, she had no idea what was going on with him. And it was a terrifying feeling.
“There isn’t anything I wouldn’t give to make you see how much I love you…to take that fear away. That look you get, the one you have right now, the one that tells me you’re still afraid I’m going to cut and run—”
“It’s just… In my life, when things seem too good to be true, they usually are.” She sniffled in an attempt to keep from full-out crying.
He nodded. She wasn’t sure if it was the lights or if his eyes were beginning to fill with tears as well.
“Not anymore, baby.” He took her hands in his. “I can’t promise to be perfect, and I can’t promise to never need help for my drinking again. But I can promise that I will never walk away from you. From us. Ever.”
“Trace. Please. Just tell me. Whatever is going on, please tell me before I lose my mind.”
“Okay, so…you know that song I wrote for you?”
He brought me here to talk about a song?
“Yeah,” she said slowly, side-eyeing him as he walked toward the stage.
“Well I changed a verse a little and I’m thinking it works better in acoustic. But before I record it, I wanted to make sure the new verse was okay with you.” He stepped over to the now empty stage and picked up the guitar leaning against the stool. “Promise you’ll tell me the truth?”
“Promise,” she answered, leaning against the bar and shaking her head. He never stopped surprising her. And she was still a Trace Corbin fangirl. “Let’s hear it.”
“All right. Here goes.” Trace strummed a few chords and cleared his throat.
There’s a girl from Oklahoma that I can’t get out of my head. Can’t seem to get her back in my arms so I put her in a song instead. She’s wild like the prairie wind that blows fast across the plains. She’s sweet like the morning sun risin’ slow after a night of rain. And I did everything I could do to push her away. But if ever there was someone ever made for someone, that girl was made for me.
Her face broke into a broad smile. The first time she’d heard that song, she’d wanted to murder him. But now she could hear it for what it was. His way of telling her just how much he loved her.
She hopped up on a barstool as he continued.
They say I have a wild streak, a fire burning in me. A fightin’ side, too much damn pride. No one else could ever tame me, boy they’ve damn sure tried. She’s water to my fire, a lover to my fighter, and she cuts me down to size. There’s not another one like her. Man I gotta find her. ’Cause if ever there was someone ever made for someone, that girl was made for me.
She tapped her foot along to the beat as he repeated the chorus. So far she couldn’t tell which verse he’d changed. But when he looked up and his fiery gaze met hers, she knew it must be coming. Suddenly he stopped playing the guitar and sang his lyrics a cappella.
There’s not a thing I wouldn’t give to hold her. To say the things I should have told her. So if you see my Oklahoma girl, I hope you’ll let her know. There’s a Georgia boy wants to marry her and he’ll never let her go.
Her face went instantly numb as all the blood drained to her toes. She clutched the barstool and tried to stand, but the floor felt like Jell-O beneath her feet as she lost the ability to swallow. Or think a complete coherent thought.
He stepped down off stage and kneeled before her. “So what do you think? Will you marry me, Kylie Lou?”
The entire scene blurred through her tears. She couldn’t even see the ring he held clearly. Just something shiny—and possibly guitar-shaped—reflecting light in a dark box.
She covered her mouth to keep from crying out in shock. It muffled her whispered “Yes.” She nodded as hard as she could. So that he would know what she’d known for so long.
He was made for her. And she was made for him.
“Yes?” he practically shouted in the quiet as he stood up.
“Yes,” she confirmed, throwing her arms around his neck and breathing him in. “God, yes.”
The bar remained quiet except for their professions of love and mutual happiness as he slipped the ring on her trembling finger.
“Oh my gosh,” she began, grinning at him as he watched her with his love-filled gaze. “How am I going to write all those songs about heartbreak now that I’m so damn happy?”
Trace grinned, showing her his dimples and the mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Oh, don’t worry, darlin’. I’m sure I’ll still piss you off plenty. And now you’re stuck with me forever.” He winked before kissing her again.
“You know,” Kylie began in a whisper between kisses. “I seem to remember you telling me once that you weren’t the kind of guy to take me on dates, write me love songs, serenade me in public, and send me flowers. I think you might’ve been wrong about that, Mr. Corbin.”
Trace laughed and shook his head. “Actually, I was going to do this in front of a live audience, but I remembered how much you didn’t love that last time. I’m learning.” He pulled her into his arms and she laughed along with him.
“I think I might’ve been wrong, too,” Kylie said as they swayed to music only they could hear.
“Oh yeah? What about, babe?”
She looked up and smiled into his eyes. “I told you once that you weren’t all that damned special.” She placed another soft kiss on his mouth. “You are very special. So damn special.”
Trace wiped her tears. “Well, Kylie Ryans. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were starting to like me.”
She grinned at her future husband. “More like love you.”
He made a big show of exhaling. “Thank God, because Rae and Claire Ann are already planning the wedding.”
They couldn’t seem to let go of each other from that moment forward. Kylie’s arms were still wrapped around his waist as they locked up and left the bar.
“You know, to some people, this probably looks like the end. Like we finally got our happily ever after.”
Trace’s bright hazel eyes sparkled down into hers as they stepped out into the city lights. “And what does it look like to you, Kylie Lou?”
She kissed him once more as he held the truck door open for her.
“The beginning.”
IF ANYONE ever would’ve told me that I’d love another man more than I loved my daddy or Trace Corbin, I would’ve told them they were crazy. While laughing in their face.
And yet, as I wait in line to de-board the plane from London back home, antici
pation builds in my chest and I know in that moment that I love the guy waiting for me more than I have ever loved anyone. My entire life changed the day I met him. In ways I never could’ve imagined.
I can barely concentrate on lugging my giant carry-on bag through customs. All I can see in my mind are his bright blue-green eyes and his headful of messy dark curls. I can already picture how wide his smile will be when he sees me.
His favorite song is the ringtone on my phone and I turn into a sentimental mess every time I hear it.
I’m beginning to think it’s true what they say about absence making the heart grow fonder.
I tour a lot less now, since I’m no longer a solo act but part of a group. After a few years of doing our own thing, Mia Montgomery, Lily Taite, and I decided to start a band. We just finished our second world tour and Backwoods Belles is currently one of the hottest bands in the country. But we’re about to take some time off. Which I think the love of my life will be thrilled to hear. No matter how little I tour, being apart is still hard on both of us.
I’ve got some big news for my guy and I’m both excited and nervous about what his reaction will be. It’s been my experience that the male species often has a hard time with change.
The people in front of me are trudging along slowly and I want to plow them down. I check my phone for the tenth time since turning it off airplane mode. His handsome face is the background on my screen, and seeing it just makes me even more anxious.
The lady in customs at the Hartsfield airport looks miserable until she checks my passport. She smiles and asks politely for my autograph for her niece, which of course I give her.
It will never stop blowing my mind that people want my name on a piece of paper. Life is an amazing and strange experience sometimes.
I’m practically jogging to baggage claim where I know he’s waiting for me. A few people give me strange looks but I couldn’t care less.
Through the crowd I see him and I know that he sees me in that same instant. His dimpled smile greets me, and I drop my carry-on bag and run.
So does he.
“Mommy!” He squeals as I lift him off the ground and spin him in a circle. “I missed you this much.” He throws his arms out as wide as they’ll go.
“Well I missed you even more than that,” I tell him, choking back tears. It feels like he’s grown so much in the six weeks I’ve been gone. Once I’ve covered his entire face with kisses, I glance over at my husband. “I missed you too, babe.”
He places a chaste but firm kiss on my lips before moving his mouth back to my ear. “Missed you too, Kylie Lou. I’ll show you how much…later.”
I have to stifle a shiver and set our son down gently.
Trace takes my bag from where I left it and gives me a warning glance when he realizes how much stuff I’ve crammed in it. “Uh, babe, you probably shouldn’t be carrying such heavy stuff since—”
I cut him off with a look because we haven’t told Bo he’s going to be a big brother yet.
Robert Michael Corbin—Bo, as we call him—reaches out his tiny toddler arm. “I can carry it, Daddy.”
“I know you can, big man. But how about you let me carry it so you can hold Mommy’s hand on the way to the truck? Make sure she gets in safe?”
Once we’ve made it to the truck and both my boys have made sure I’m strapped in, Trace buckles Bo in his carseat. They spend the entire ride to our farm in Macon filling me in on every minute I missed while I was away.
Most of it I already know since we video chat every morning and every night before bed, but I could listen to both of their sweet voices forever. God, I missed them.
“Babe, you sure you’re up for company?” Trace asks me once we’re home.
“It’s Thanksgiving,” I tell him, confused as to why he thinks I wouldn’t want company.
“I know.” He kisses me on the head once more before carrying my bags inside. “But you’ve got to be tired with the traveling, and the time change, and, uh, Bo’s present that you’ve been carrying around all this time.”
“I’m good. Promise.” A smile spreads across my face when we walk into our home. Our home. There aren’t words to describe what an amazing feeling it is to finally come home where I’m loved and safe and whole. I can’t wait to see my son’s reaction when he learns he’s going to be a big brother.
But it will have to wait, because there are a dozen people coming over for dinner.
“You’re sure you defrosted the turkeys and made plenty of stuffing?”
Trace smirks at me. “I think we’ve established who the cook is in this family.”
He’s being a smartass, but the word family hits me and I tear up again. He misunderstands.
“Aww baby, I was kidding. You cook just fine. Who needs anything other than Pop-Tarts and spaghetti anyways?”
I shove him when he comes in for another kiss. “You’re an idiot.”
“Yep, and I’m your idiot. Congratulations.” He kisses me despite my protests, biting my bottom lip hard enough to remind me how much I’ve missed him.
“Mmm. So how much time do we have before everyone gets here?” Before he can answer, my phone vibrates with a text.
Be there in a few. Did you tell him yet?
Mia. And I’m pretty sure she isn’t asking about whether or not we’ve told Bo about the baby.
“Not much. Less than an hour probably,” Trace answers.
Trace keeps on at me until I sit on the couch. Bo climbs in my lap and looks at my phone curiously while his dad checks the contents of the oven. It smells amazing. And I’m suddenly starving.
It’s fine. We’re married with baby number two on the way, M. Just get here already.
After I press send, Bo confiscates my phone and begins scrolling through my pictures. I tell him about the ones I took in London. There are a few of my last visit to Lulu in Los Angeles and seeing her blue-haired selfie makes me miss her even more than usual. I’d hoped she’d always be my stylist so we could hang out on the road, but during a visit with her dad she got hired by some big deal movie company. We still visit each other as much as we can, but life gets in the way sometimes.
“So who all is coming?” I call out to my husband.
“Well, Claire Ann and Pauly, obviously,” Trace begins. His sister and her husband live right down the road so it’s a given they’ll be here. “Rae and that kid with the crappy taste in music she’s dating. My mom, I guess.”
I don’t miss the extra weight in his voice but I hope Bo doesn’t catch it. Trace still hasn’t completely forgiven his mom for the mistakes she’s made over the years, but he’s working on it. She’s Bo’s grandma and he loves her, so I deal with her the best I can.
“Lily and her dad are coming,” I inform him.
“I know,” he hollers back from the kitchen. “Don told me they were. His son is coming in from overseas, so he’ll be here too.”
“Is he in the military?” I can’t remember Lily mentioning that. But she talks a mile a minute so I might’ve missed it.
“No, he’s a pro soccer player,” Trace tells me. Now that I did know—just not the overseas part. I forget sometimes that Lily’s dad is technically Trace’s boss. Never in a million years could I have predicted the way our lives would change.
After we walked away from Capital Letter Records, Trace and I took some time to just be together. No labels, no tour buses, no performances. Just us. The family living in my home had found some things of my father’s in the attic and sent them to me. I used my year off to put together a memory book that eventually became an actual book called My Father’s Daughter. It sold more copies than Darla’s. Not that I was counting or anything.
Donovan Taite offered Trace his own label. Eventually Trace accepted, provided he could sign a certain trio that included Donovan’s daughter, Mia Montgomery, and his wife. It makes Lily’s day that she’s been signed by a separate label that isn’t technically her dad’s.
Trace is happy with th
e arrangement since he still has time for his A Hand Up Foundation, the rehab facility he’s part owner of, and his favorite job—being a stay-at- home-dad.
Despite the media turning us into some shiny, sparkly golden couple, the past few years haven’t been all hearts and glitter shooting out of our asses. Red carpets and platinum awards, aside, it’s life. It’s beautiful and messy and more often than not, kind of scary. We both panicked when we found out I was pregnant with Bo. Trace hadn’t had a very good example of a father and I didn’t even have any solid memories of my mother. But somehow, together, we figured it out. We’re still figuring it out most days.
But it’s real. What we have. No matter what anyone says.
We tour together from time to time, but Trace won’t go on the road unless Bo and I go with him. He’s been sober for nearly five years now and I couldn’t be more proud of him. But even if he slips and has to go back to rehab, we’d get through it. As a family.
Bo has gone way back in my photo album on my phone. There are still pictures of our wedding on it. We had it here at the farm. Trace wore a tie but I let him wear jeans and boots. I wore my mom’s wedding dress, which had arrived with my father’s belongings, with my own boots. The same ones I’d taken on Trace’s Back to My Roots tour.
I smile at my son and at the blurry photos on the screen. It rained on our wedding day, and the guests all took shelter in the tents. But we stayed out in the storm and said our vows. A little rain couldn’t stop us. I barely even noticed. We’d been through much worse.
Glancing at the pictures though, I want to laugh. We look half-drowned. And that was before Trace threw me in the pond.
“Gretchen and her son and some guy she’s dating and his kid are coming,” Trace reminds me, snapping me back to the present. “She said you invited them at the AHU benefit.”
“I did.” I bite my lip, wondering if the next guest on the list is going to make him go all caveman on me. “Mia’s coming, too. I told her she could bring someone if she wanted. So she is.”
Trace steps into the living room with a dishtowel in his hands. “Oh yeah? Who is she bringing?”
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