Breaking South: A Turner Artist Rocker Novel (The Turner Artist Rocker Series Book 3)

by Alyson Santos

  “It’s her,” I whisper, staring at my reflection. “The girl in the mirror.”

  Oliver kisses the top of my head, and my grip tightens on his arms. “It is. And now that you know she’s not Genevieve Fox, who is she? Who sang that song tonight?”

  It’s a good question. It wasn’t Genevieve Fox, that’s for sure. It wasn’t even Genevieve Hastings. It was someone new. Someone who’s been locked up and finally freed. It’s time to decide who exactly she is.

  CHAPTER 13

  I am

  Brave

  I am

  Scared

  I am

  True

  I am

  Scared

  I am

  Confident

  I am

  Scared

  I am who I am

  The girl who is boldly afraid

  OLIVER

  “Give me eight more. You got this,” Carlos says.

  I pull in a deep breath, bracing myself for one more set of reps. To say my first day back has been hard is an understatement. Forget my knee, my entire body is an inferno of burning muscle. My knee actually feels great, a fact I’ve had to share with Carlos about a hundred times since warmups this morning. He’s been my constant shadow today, even more than usual. Observing every stroke in the pool, every step on the elliptical, right in my face for every stretch, flex, and exercise. I forgave his overprotectiveness later in the day when he pulled out the slide board and finally—finally—let us do some real work.

  “You feeling okay? Any pain or tightness?” he asks as I lean against the wall to catch my breath and take a drink.

  “In my knee? No. Just my brain from your nagging.”

  Carlos smirks, inspecting my knee anyway. “I don’t see any swelling. It’s looking good.”

  “Yeah? Do you think there’s a chance I could get back on the ice for a skate in January? The surgeon said he’s seen guys back for non-contact skating at three months.”

  Carlos shrugs, though he’s clearly not excited about making promises. Rehab is a messy business with few guarantees and limitless variables. “I still think that’s quick, but you keep working this hard and doing everything right, I don’t see any reason why we can’t evaluate in January. Just… don’t look too far ahead, Ollie. One day at a time, okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I grunt, waving him off. I swear, if I hear that stupid platitude one more time…

  “For now, let’s get you over for an ice bath. I want you to get in with the massage therapist too. Oh, and the dietician wants to make some adjustments now that we’re upping the intensity of your workouts.”

  “The hairdresser wants a piece of you also,” Sandy calls over. Some of the other guys snicker, and I roll my eyes, though I secretly enjoy the ribbing. Truthfully, it’s felt great having the team around again, even if I have to train separately and can’t join them on the ice. At least I don’t have to deal with the cavernous silence of being alone in this huge facility. It was eerie coming to work every day and walking these halls alone. I already feel so isolated from the team and the game that’s been my world for as long as I can remember. Plus, they’ve been going out of their way to chat and catch up which helped break up the strain of the day.

  “Yeah? If it’s the same person who styles that mess on your head, I’ll pass,” I call back. Sandy laughs and pushes through another set of reps on his own equipment. He’s been watching me closely as well, checking in several times throughout the day. I glance at my phone and curse. Dread gnaws at my stomach as the clock pushes toward go time. If I have any hope of making it to Las Vegas tonight, I need to be leaving now.

  I look over at Carlos who’s putting stuff away, oblivious to the argument about to come. He’s got another few hours of care lined up for me. No way he signs off on a spontaneous trip to Vegas. I test my own tired muscles. My quads are already shaking with fatigue, my hips sore from the mobility drills we’ve been running most of the day. The worst part is, he wouldn’t be wrong. The last thing my body needs after today is another long, taxing adventure late into the night. I don’t know what I was thinking when I told Gen and the publicist I’d be able to get to her show.

  “You ready?” he asks, coming over.

  I glance at Sandy who’s now watching me also. Shit. This isn’t going to go well.

  “I can’t.”

  Carlos blinks at me, stunned. Maybe angry. No wait, angry stunned. Yep. “You can’t? What does that mean?”

  “I have to get going. I have somewhere I have to be tonight.”

  He shakes his head. “No. Where you need to be is in an ice bath helping your body recover.”

  I sigh and shove my phone back into my bag. “No. I have another commitment.”

  “Hell no, you don’t,” Sandy interrupts, his eyes narrowing at me. “Carlos is right. You’re in no condition to be doing anything tonight except taking care of yourself. Go get to the fucking training room and take care of business.”

  I glare back, reading the part he didn’t say. Of course he knows my sudden rebellion has to do with Genevieve and he’s not about to let that happen. Shit. Now what? I think about her look when I asked if she wanted me there tonight. Then the look on Coach’s face after those articles when he asked if I wasn’t taking my rehab as seriously as he thought. I study Carlos now, his expression hard and primed to explode if I give him a single reason to do so in the next two seconds. Back to Sandy who’s clearly already resisting the urge to throw me in the water and hold me there. I want to keep my word to Genevieve, but enough to sacrifice myself and my own career? It’s just one show. She’ll have plenty of others I can attend without risking everything.

  I let out a heavy sigh, a weight pressing down on my chest as I pull up her number. “Yeah, I’ll be over in a sec. Just have to make a quick phone call,” I say to Carlos who finally relaxes. Sandy’s gaze continues to bore into me, and he waits until Carlos walks away to lean close.

  “You cannot skip out on rehab to go to her tonight,” he hisses in my face.

  “I promised her,” I return with little conviction. God, I’m tired. I didn’t even realize how much until now.

  “Well, then you unpromise, because you can’t afford another screw up right now. For your body, or with the team. You just came back from a physical setback and a PR mess. They’re watching your every move. But even outside of that, after what you just put your body through and will do again tomorrow, you have to take care of it tonight. You know that, dude. Come on. Don’t be stupid.”

  Shit, of course he’s right. About everything. And he probably thinks I’m skipping out to have sex at her place. I didn’t even tell him I was planning a jet-set marathon trip to Vegas. He’d probably punch me in the face for even suggesting it.

  “I know, man, okay? Just let me call her quick.”

  “Yeah. You do that.” He shakes his head. “You know, for being so smart, you’re kind of an idiot sometimes,” he mutters.

  I loop my bag over my shoulder and duck out of the weight room as my call rings unanswered. “Come on. Pick up,” I mumble, while making my way toward the training rooms. Of course she’s busy. I don’t know what’s involved with getting ready for her shows, but I’m guessing it takes a lot to turn her from the stripped-down girl I saw in her studio last night to the sculpted statue on display for the masses. I grunt in frustration when her voicemail picks up. I really wanted to talk to her, to hear her voice, for her to hear mine. I can’t fathom having this linger on voicemail and hang over my head all night. Breaking a promise is bad enough, let alone like this, but what choice do I have?

  “Hey, babe, it’s Oliver. I hate that I have to do this, but there’s no way I’m going to be able to make it to Vegas tonight. Rehab went well, but it took everything out of me and they need me to stay and do some recovery stuff. I’m so sorry and will make it up to you, I promise. I really wanted to see you perform. We’ll make sure that happens soon. Kill it tonight. Remember, you’re a badass. Call me as soon a
s you can.”

  I message Hadley next, like they said to do with any logistical issues. I’m just tucking my phone back in my bag, when it rings. My heart races as I pull it up again, but my excitement dims when I see it’s Hadley, not Genevieve.

  “Hey, Hadley,” I say. “Guessing you saw my message.”

  “Yeah. Crap. You’re not coming?”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I left a message for Gen, too. She didn’t answer.”

  “No, I have her phone. She doesn’t like being distracted prior to a show. Especially lately, with her confidence so rocked.”

  Shit. Now I really feel like garbage. “I get that, but can you ask her to call me? I want to tell her in person.”

  Hadley hesitates, and my pulse pounds in the silence.

  “I’m not sure that’s a great idea, Oliver. She’s been having a rough day. The only thing keeping her afloat is knowing you’re going to be here tonight. She’s so excited for you to see her perform and be with her backstage. It’s all she talks about. She’s told everyone you’re coming.”

  Fuck! My fist clenches around the phone as I shove my other palm against the wall.

  “Well, I have to tell her. I can’t just not show.”

  “No, of course. I just mean, maybe it’s better for her to get your message after the show. She’ll know at that point that you tried to call before but at least it won’t mess with her head for the performance. Plus, her mom’s here, and you know how she feels about you. You really want to give her that ammo? Gah! This is really bad timing, Oliver.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. Shit!” I bang the wall again and rest my forehead against it. For a fleeting second, I consider risking everything to get there. It would be brutal, and I’d have a ton of fallout to deal with, but the prospect of disappointing Genevieve, of not being there to protect and support her when she needs me, rips a gaping hole in my gut. Phantom pain spreads through my knee, and I clench my jaw against the fresh burn.

  “Hang on,” Hadley says after a pause. “You’re totally right. She should know now. I’ll get her.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief and agony. I hate this so much. Hate my stupid, weak body that never seems able to do what I need it to do anymore.

  “Hey, Oliver!” comes Genevieve’s chipper voice a minute later. “You on your way?”

  I close my eyes and squeeze my fist at my side. “Hey, Gen. Look, that’s why I’m calling. There is nothing I want more than to be there for you tonight. I absolutely can’t wait to see you perform, but today didn’t go like I thought it would. I still have a few hours left of training. There’s no way they’re going to let me go. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I thought I could make that trip work.”

  Silence.

  “Gen?”

  Silence.

  “You still there?”

  “Oh. Okay,” she leaks out finally. “I mean, are you okay? Your knee?” There’s a quiver in her voice that breaks my heart.

  “Yeah, I’m fine, just wrecked. We have some stuff to do to help me recover. I can’t afford to put any more stress on my body right now.”

  “No. Right. Of course.” Her words are choppy, like she’s trying to release them carefully. God, this is heartbreaking. She’s fighting to be strong. I hear it, sense it through the phone.

  “Gen? You got this. You know that? You don’t need me. You don’t need anyone. You just need you and your badass self to go out there and be amazing.”

  She sniffs. I want to reach through the phone and hold her. “Yeah. I have to go. Thanks for letting me know. Take care of yourself.”

  “Gen…”

  “Bye, Oliver.”

  And the line goes dead.

  I push my fist back into the wall with another curse. Furious, heartbroken, helpless—so damn helpless.

  “Fuck!” I cry out into the hallway, leaning over and resting my palms on my thighs.

  Good luck to the trainers getting me to relax tonight.

  CHAPTER 14

  I’ve left a little piece of my heart in your hand

  Do you see it?

  Do you feel it?

  Did you lose it so soon when you stepped away?

  It’s okay, here’s another

  And another

  And countless more to uncover

  For no matter what you do

  My heart will keep shedding for you

  GENEVIEVE

  He’s not coming. Tears collect in my eyes, threatening all the work we’ve done on my makeup in the last hour. He’s not coming. I try to tell myself it’s okay. That the fact that he wants to be here is somehow an acceptable substitute for the fact that he’s not. My mom’s smug look when she figures out he stood me up is more than I can handle, and I march from the dressing room, letting the door slam shut behind me. Brett and Walt leap into action in my wake but I ignore them as I accelerate my pace, headed somewhere. Anywhere. I don’t even care. Maybe I’ll get lost in the back halls of this casino and won’t have to make an appearance at all. What was supposed to be one of my most anticipated performances, where I finally showed Oliver the side of me he could admire, is now a chalky mist in my throat. I cough it out, the old anxiety he’d spent weeks helping me tame flooding back in violent waves.

  “You don’t need me. You don’t need anyone.” Maybe that’s true for the girl in the mirror. She might be a badass who can face her demons, but tonight I’m Genevieve Fox, the girl who can’t face her own shadow. Since the moment we met, he’s seen how she can’t stand on her own. It was going to be okay because he’d be here this time. He promised. He promised!

  I know I’m not being fair. Even when he said he would come I’d been skeptical. Gosh, it must be so hard going through his rehab. I can’t imagine the physical and mental toll he faces every day he shows up to battle back. I’m not mad at him. Just… heartbroken. Scared. Afraid of what’s going to show up on the stage tonight now that I have no idea who or what I am anymore.

  Keep it together. You are in control.

  “There are times in each of our lives when we have to choose,” I say, leaning into the mic at the baby grand piano as I begin the transition into “My Eyes.” It’s the final song of the mini-acoustic set in the middle of the show. I’ve performed it dozens of times, given the carefully scripted speech even more often. I should be on autopilot, but today my brain is involved. Overactive and intrusive. B-flat to E-flat to F. Wait no. G-minor. Crap.

  “Are you going to…”

  A bum note at the change to the G-minor chord shivers through my body, leaving a jolting chill in its wake. My blood pressure surges, my pulse thumping loudly in my ears. “Are you going to…” To what?! B-flat to E-flat… My reckless pulse makes my fingers shake as they work the keys. Everyone’s watching. Waiting. They must have heard that missed note. Don’t screw up again. You can’t afford another mistake. Don’t screw up. Don’t screw up. Don’t screw up. My hands are trembling. I blink into the glaring stage lights by accident and now I’m left with a sharp blind spot as well. What was my speech? The transition time is almost over. The mechanical voice in my ear is already calling for the intro to the song.

  I release a slight chuckle that I hope is endearing. “Well, anyway, you didn’t come to hear me talk. Instead, maybe you’re ready for a peek through ‘My Eyes.’”

  A cheer erupts from the audience as I launch into the familiar intro. With a few deep breaths, I calm the adrenaline back to functional levels and force my mind quiet. Instinct. That’s what I need now. At this point, tonight is about survival. Just get through this show and then I can regroup. Maybe we work out a simpler transition for the next… stop it brain! Focus!

  “Every little crack I hide is another lie for my disguise

  Every little piece you break is another hit I take…”

  My voice sounds tinny in my ears. After getting used to the rasp of my new sound, it’s like I can hear the lack of heart in my old one. Doesn’t the audience notice? I force more emotion into my face, hoping it wil
l reflect in my voice as I sing.

  “When your hand slips from mine

  I will grasp the falling sky

  Clinging to the view from my eyes”

  What does this song even mean? Phones glow and wave in a dizzying halo around the theater. Four thousand voices sing along with River Olson’s ode to something. Mom was thrilled when White Flame sent this one over. “River Olson, Genevieve! It’s pretty much guaranteed to chart!” And it did. Debuted at number five and got all the way up to number two before dropping. Never mind that the lyrics feel affected to me. Overly poetic with no real meaning behind them. Still, there’s a giant bridge that brings tears and a dramatic chorus that gives me plenty of space for spine-tingling runs. We produced the crap out of the radio version. Live, I can even muster a tear or two on a good night. Today? We’ll see. I’m afraid if I let one escape, I’ll have an entire meltdown on my hands, which no one would be happy about.

  “This mountain I climb

  Will never be too high

  This valley below will show

  How far I’ve come

  That I’m the only one

  Who will ever see the top through my eyes.”

  I bring the outro, along with the three-song acoustic set to a conclusion with a drawn-out final bar that speaks loudly in its simplicity. The last chord rings out, echoing over the room with the infusion of heavy reverb meant to swell through ears straight to hearts. By the subdued, reverent cheers as the lights go dark, we nailed it.

  I jump up from the bench and rush offstage, while the crew transforms the space for the next high-energy set.

  “You okay?” Hadley asks as I do a quick wardrobe change. An extended instrumental remix of “Horizonal” blares through the house, and the crowd erupts, plunging to their feet in anticipation when the lights start flashing in sync with the music.