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

by Alyson Santos

  I pull in a heavy breath, clinging to his words like a lifeline. He has no idea how much I needed to hear that. Or maybe he does, thanks to Sandy and the testimony of my team. Strangely, my five-on-none suddenly feels like a power play instead. “Thanks, Coach. That means a lot. I promise to keep giving it everything I have.”

  He offers an emphatic nod before waving me toward the door. “Oh, and Oliver.”

  I turn back to meet his gaze.

  “Do me a favor and stay out of the headlines for one damn minute, though, okay?”

  CHAPTER 18

  Rock the boat ‘til it floats where it needs to go

  Through wind and snow

  Starred heights, depths below

  Stand tall through the storm

  And believe your sea

  Is not your death

  But your destiny

  GENEVIEVE

  Oliver pulls into the lot of the Turner Artist Management building, and my chest immediately lifts with relief. Does he even know how incredible he is? That his strength isn’t in his body, but his spirit? It’s like he holds up those around him just by being near them. I think back to that first day in the conference room at the practice center. His smile, his light spread through us all, but did irreparable damage to the darkness that ruled my world. And I’m sure I’m not the only one. Now, I expect his expression to be dark after everything that’s happened. Something like this would have knocked me down hard, but he looks like his normal, sunny self as he emerges from the drivers’ seat. My heart rate picks up like it always does when I see him. Tall, strong, fearless—my stomach flutters from the anticipation of looping my arm through his, feeling the constriction of solid muscle as I lean on him. I’ve never felt this way about a man, not even Darryn who I’d been engaged to marry for a brief minute. It’s like Oliver is so confident in who he is and what he wants that the ugly of this world rolls right off him. I’ve always been a sponge.

  “Thanks, Devin,” I say, pushing open my door.

  “I’ll get your crutches, Ms. Fox,” he says.

  Our movements catch Oliver’s attention, and he shifts direction to walk toward us. His breathtaking smile grows when he sees me through the open door, and heat runs up my chest into my cheeks. Am I blushing? How do I still blush around him? He’s the sun, that’s why.

  “You ready to do this?” he asks, ducking into the doorway to make eye contact.

  Despite the flare of panic that rushes through me at what I’m about to do, I feel a smile tickle my lips. It’s hard to believe that just a few weeks ago fear had me cowering in the shadows. Now, I’m about to take on the impossible.

  “I’m ready,” I say, reaching for him. He helps me out of the car, and I wrap my arms around his chest, balancing my weight on my good leg while I wait for the crutches. Truthfully, I wouldn’t mind staying here for a while. I breathe in the scent of freshly showered spice and clean linen I’ve come to associate with him. “How was your day, though?” I ask, my smile dimming at the thought of what he must have gone through. “Was it bad? The backlash?”

  I dare a look up, praying the light won’t be sucked from his eyes. To my relief, his smile only grows. “There really wasn’t any, thanks in part to a teammate and girlfriend who stood up for me.”

  Relieved, I squeeze him tighter. “Oh good. I’m sorry for going behind your back, but I knew you’d tell us not to, and I couldn’t bear the thought of them punishing you over lies.”

  “Thanks, Gen. Really. I didn’t even realize how much I needed to know someone had my back.”

  I glance up in surprise, brushing his jaw with my fingers. “I’ll always have your back, Oliver. And so will my team. So does yours, your family, and probably anyone who’s ever met you. You’ve got an entire army behind you, cheering you on.”

  He laughs, and my heart melts a little. “An army, huh? I may need it.” He shakes his head and kisses my hair before taking the crutches from Devin. “You ready to do this?” he asks, helping me onto the crutches.

  I nod and fix my gaze on the large glass building. “Let’s break shit.”

  “Oliver, so good to finally meet you in person,” Sam says, leading us into her office. I asked for a private meeting today—no assistants or other personnel—so I’m sure she knows something’s up.

  “You too, Sam,” he says, taking her hand.

  “Genevieve, how are you feeling?” she asks me.

  “I’m fine. I’ll be back on my feet soon. Thankfully, my boyfriend is an expert on rehab.”

  We exchange polite chuckles as we take our seats at the small table in her office. Sam's gaze turns serious once we’re settled. “How can I help you?” she asks me.

  I swallow hard, the panic returning as I stare over the cliff. I was so ready to jump when I got in my car today. So ready as we walked into the building. I thought I could do it, knew I had to if I was going to get my life on the right trajectory. Now that I’ve swung a foot over the ledge…

  My knee feels warm, and I look down to see Oliver’s hand clasped gently around it. I spread my palm over his, holding tightly as I pull in a deep breath. I imagine him waking up from surgery, that first day of rehab, the mountain he faces every day he walks into the weight room. Wouldn’t you rather it be for a prize that’s worth it? What’s at the top of the mountain for you?

  Forcing my gaze back up, I look directly at Sam—and jump.

  “I want to retire, Sam. I don’t want to be Genevieve Fox anymore.”

  Crash.

  I cling hard to Oliver’s hand, even reaching with my other to hold on. My heart pounds wildly, every thump echoing with a violence I feel throughout my body. More words bubble in my head and shoot to my throat. Words I’ve held onto for so long without even knowing they were there.

  “I know that sounds crazy and spontaneous, but I assure you, it’s not. I’ve spent countless hours agonizing over this decision, and I think it was a long time coming, even if I didn’t recognize it until recently. I’ve been trapped my whole life and didn’t have the courage to confront that reality. I was so afraid of falling, of letting everyone else down.”

  I cast Oliver a quick glance, and he smiles back, squeezing my hand in encouragement. I clear my throat and focus on the shiny tabletop. “My mom has had me in front of cameras since I was a baby. I was raised to be Genevieve Fox. I’ve never known anything different and believed this had to be who I was. Except I hated who I was. I dreaded each day, each second of my existence and every glimpse of myself. It got so bad I couldn’t even look in the mirror without having a panic attack.” I’m still not watching her. I can’t afford to be derailed right now as the truth bursts out, painful and freeing at the same time. “This isn’t about my career. This is about survival.”

  I finally look up, and to my surprise there’s no anger or shock on Sam’s face. No judgement or criticism. Instead, her eyes well with sympathy, a deep pain for me, and emotion blooms in my chest. Our gazes lock in an understanding I didn’t know we shared until this moment. Until I was brave enough to let myself step off the cliff. It’s all so much, touching and painful, freeing and heavy with regret. Tears spring to my eyes, and soon I’m being pulled into sturdy warmth. Oliver strokes my arm as I nestle against him and absorb his strength like I have so many times before.

  “I don’t know what I want to do next,” I manage finally, my voice confident despite the filter of tears. “But I know I can’t continue on this path. It’s killing me. I want to start over. To figure out who I am, not what I was sculpted to be. I need you to help me walk away.”

  I’m not surprised by the silence when I finish my speech and wipe my sleeve across my eyes. Sam still hasn’t said anything, studying each of us with a strange expression I can’t read. Oliver kisses my hair and pulls me tighter.

  “She’s amazing,” he says. “She’s fucking amazing. That’s who she is.”

  My heart. A sob rushes to my throat. I swallow it back and tilt my head to find him. “So are you,” I whi
sper. “I’d still be so lost without you.”

  When I finally focus back on Sam, I’m shocked at the sheen in her eyes. I’ve never seen her cry. Ever. She’s the toughest woman I know, and I blink back more of my own tears as she clears her throat.

  “But this isn’t about him,” I rush out to Sam. “What my mom and Selena tried to do, spinning this into some B.S. about Oliver has to stop. This has nothing to do with him. This is, and always has been, about me. About who I am and what I want for my life. Oliver just supported my journey to find it.”

  Sam doesn’t react at first, just continues observing us with a slight smile on her face. “Can I show you something?” she asks finally.

  I nod, straightening from Oliver as she pulls a laptop from her bag. She fires it up, and after a few clicks, flips the screen to face me. I almost choke when I see the document. There, staring back at us is a spreadsheet entitled “Genevieve Fox – Exit Strategy.” At least twenty tabs line up in a neat row at the bottom: dates and timelines, people and organizations—I can’t even read them all as I stare in numb silence. Tears gather in my eyes, relief so intense I feel myself dissolving into the air around me.

  “You… This is… How?”

  Her smile grows as she takes in my startled reaction. “Gen, I’ve sensed this was coming for over a year now. I deal with artists at all levels all day every day. I got into this business because nothing brings me greater joy than helping others achieve their dreams. I thrive on their happiness, being a part of their journeys and making their dreams come true. But with you… it broke my heart. You never smiled when you should have, never got excited about the things I work my butt off to give my clients. I’ve been silently begging you to discover this for yourself. All I want is for you to be happy, and it was so clear you weren’t.”

  I nod, sucking in a ragged breath as I stare at the remarkable document and my more remarkable manager. “Thanks, Sam. I…” I shake my head, speechless.

  “We’re going to figure this out, okay?” She smiles. “In fact, I kind of already have.”

  We spend the rest of the meeting walking through Sam’s notes. She really has thought through everything, bringing up points that I hadn’t considered. There are countless details to sort out, but most importantly, we will be positioning my retirement as a golden opportunity for White Flame and all of those involved in my career up to this point. The tour will continue as planned, only now it will be a Farewell Tour. The album will release as my finale. Strangely, for the first time in years, I’m excited for both. A Farewell Tour sounds so much different than the marathon I’d been dreading. I love the idea of saying goodbye to my fans in a way that’s worthy of the support they’ve shown me over the years. We even discuss how I can take my appreciation a step further by setting up charities and scholarships to help others achieve their own dreams. Genevieve Fox’s legacy will live on as a beacon of hope.

  The longer we talk, the more I realize how limited my scope has been. For someone who’s traveled the world, I’ve seen very little of it. It took an injured hockey player to show me how much I was missing.

  “So what’s next?” Sam asks, settling back in her chair once our plan feels solid.

  I sip my water and cast a glance at Oliver who smiles. “I don’t know yet. Right now, I just want to focus on saying goodbye and taking full legal and financial control of my career. Then we can talk about what’s next. Just… Sam? Please don’t involve my parents in any of this. I know we have a few legal loose ends to tie up, but I’ve let them run my life enough. I need to move forward on my own.”

  “Of course. I work for you, Gen. Never forget that.”

  I nod, believing her. It feels good to have an army behind me as well. “Hopefully, one day I can repair things with my mom, but right now, distance is key. Please make sure White Flame and everyone else understands that as well. She doesn’t speak for me and should have no involvement in our decisions from here on out. I don’t even want her to have the number of our new publicist. Speaking of, have you found anyone yet?”

  Sam perks up and moves to her desk. “Yes, actually. I have the perfect person. You’re going to love her. She’s more than a publicist, really, and specializes in nuanced projects like this one. She just had a huge win with one of my other clients. Definitely someone we want on our team.” She plucks a card from her desk and walks it over to me. “Let’s set something up for tomorrow if possible so you can check her out. We need to get moving on all of this right away.”

  “Perfect.” I take the card and glance down at the name: Lydia Carmichael. Kind of like her already. Wonder if she’s related to Stocker Carmichael of White Flame Records?

  Oliver and I don’t say much on the ride to my house. I sent Devin home after he dropped me off at Turner, knowing Oliver would drive me back. Any excuse to get my boyfriend alone works for me. He’s lost in thought at the moment, probably reviewing the same surprising meeting I am. There’s so much I want to tell him, so much I want to share, but every time I open my mouth to start a conversation, nothing comes out.

  Still, I can’t stop the small squeal when a message pops up on my phone. Oliver glances over from the wheel with a smirk. “What?” he asks, his gaze dropping to my bouncing knee before he turns back to the road.

  “Nothing,” I say, biting back a grin.

  He rolls his eyes and shoots another quick glance at me. “Really? So why’s your leg about to force us off the road.”

  I laugh and cross my arms. “It’s a surprise.”

  “A surprise?”

  “Yep. I’ll tell you when we get home.”

  “That’s another twenty minutes. I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

  “Says the guy who will spend a year in rehab…”

  “Hey now,” he says with mock warning.

  I grin and squeeze his arm. “Oliver, can we talk about something?”

  “I hope we’re past asking each other’s permission to have a conversation.”

  I sigh. “I know. But this one is… it’s been weighing on me for a while.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  I rest my hand on his thigh to reassure him. “Not an uh-oh. Unless it scares you how much I feel for you. In some ways you kind of saved my life. Definitely changed it. I can’t imagine losing you.”

  He looks over again, his eyes softening. “The girl in the mirror was always there, Gen. All I did was help you find her.”

  “I know. That’s why…” I pull in a deep breath. “Actually, can you pull over. Right there at that gas station.”

  Now he looks very concerned, but I need him focused for this, and I don’t want to wait another second. Once we’re parked, he turns toward me, his face about what you’d expect when your girlfriend blows up your life and then makes you pull over to deliver another hit. I study him for a moment, still unable to believe he’s mine. Reaching over, I take his hand and anchor it in both of mine.

  “You’ve never asked me about Darryn,” I begin quietly. “But I know you know about him. It’s been in all the articles. Everyone’s comparing the two of you, which is crazy because you couldn’t be more different. Maybe you’ve done research on your own but—”

  “I haven’t.”

  That doesn’t surprise me, though I’m not sure if that makes this conversation easier or harder. “Okay, well, I want to explain.”

  His jaw tightens. “You don’t have to. If he’s in your past, it’s none of my business.”

  “Yes, but, as you’ve seen my past never stays my past, and if you’re going to be my future, it will be part of yours too. Sam brought up a good point today. Our skeletons will be even more on display now. We can do our best to manage the narrative, but it’s still going to explode the industry, and our lives for a while. The media has warped enough of our story. I want you to hear the truth before you’re exposed to the lies this time.”

  My fingers squeeze his as if pleading with him to listen. Gorgeous brown eyes rest on me, patient and waiting for
whatever bomb I’m about to drop. Gosh, I wish I could be the one protecting him for once. I want to be a painkiller, not a pain-causer. Maybe my new future isn’t just about me. Maybe having confidence in myself will bring with it the strength to support those I love.

  “I’ll keep this short, because it really is a simple story that got ugly. Darryn and I made sense. My mom approved of him because he was good for my career. He proposed when it was good for his. He had a new movie coming out that was getting panned by the critics, so he proposed on the red carpet to distract everyone. What was I supposed to do? Say no in front of the entire world? Secretly, I was devastated. He knew how much I valued privacy, that the last thing I’d want was a proposal like that, but it was good for him, and that’s when I realized I was just Genevieve Fox to him as well. I was a prize and a prop to the one person who was supposed to love me for me.”

  His grip tightens on my hand, and I see the muscles in his arm constrict. I love how protective he is, even when I’m talking about another guy. I push my hand up and under his sleeve to soothe him. “Anyway, at least I was strong enough to fight the popular opinion and come to my senses. When I broke off the engagement, though, the media came down hard on me. It was my first major taste of a media shitstorm. I’d mostly been the darling of the industry my whole life. It’s also when I learned that dating for me has different stakes than everyone else. Not that it mattered. I couldn’t trust a guy was truly interested in me and not my name anyway... And then I found one who wanted the girl no one knew.” I gaze up at him, relaxing as his expression finally eases. “They may compare you, but there’s no comparison, Oliver. You are a perfect ten. Everyone else isn’t even on the board.”