The Kylie Ryans Series: Girl with Guitar, Girl on Tour, Girl in Love (extended edition)

by Caisey Quinn

  Because now he couldn’t tell her.

  “Her father was no prize himself,” the woman’s irritating voice continued. “I mean, I tried to teach her manners but he just let her run wild. It’s no wonder that she got her start in the music business by seducing older men. Her relationship with her dad was always very odd to me. She’s a perfect case study for a celebrity with daddy issues.”

  Everyone’s eyes went to Kylie. Trace braced himself. If she wanted to hit something, he’d let her hit him. He could take it.

  Her eyes widened a fraction, but other than that she was kept her expression blank. She’d always had one hell of a poker face.

  When the crazy bitch on the screen began dabbing her eyes and discussing Kylie’s late father’s supposed impotence, Trace reached forward and turned the damn thing off.

  “That’s enough,” he said to everyone. “Out. All of you. Go get some rest. We’re about to be heading to Atlanta anyways.”

  Kylie remained frozen and mute. Until Hannah turned to leave.

  “I want a copy of her book, Hannah. As soon as we get to Atlanta.”

  “Kylie, are sure you should—”

  “Get me a copy of the book, Hannah, or your fired,” Kylie said evenly.

  The girl nodded once before following Mike and Kylie’s friend off the bus.

  “That’s one way to treat your assistant,” Trace said once they were alone. “Though I think you might keep her longer if you try a more civil approach.”

  “Why would she say those things?” Her voice was thick with pain and barely above whisper. She looked up at him with a helpless expression. “He’s dead and gone, Trace. Why do that to his memory?”

  Her eyes were full of tears he wished he knew how to stop.

  He pulled a chair over so he could sit across from her. “I don’t know, darlin’. I don’t even try to figure out why people do the things they do.”

  She turned her eyes upward in what he assumed was an attempt to keep the moisture in them from leaking onto her face. Instinct told him to reach out, wrap his arms around her. But he didn’t know if she would want that. Or if she’d want it from him.

  He figured he’d lost the right to comfort her the way he wanted to. But he vowed he’d do the best he could—as her friend. As someone she could trust and depend on. He wanted so badly to be that for her. To not let her down this time.

  “Hey, look at me,” he said, angling himself closer. He placed his hands gently on the tops of her thighs and leaned into her. “What she says, it doesn’t change anything, Kylie Lou. Your memories of your daddy are yours. And she can’t say anything that changes who he really was or what he was to you. Understand me?”

  Her pain spilled over onto him as she lost her battle with her trembling lip and tear-filled eyes.

  “I-I just don’t understand why they’re listening to her. Why are they taking her seriously? She’s lying, Trace. None of that stuff was true.”

  He lifted a hand and wiped the few tears that had fallen. “Because the world is a big place. And there’s plenty of room for the all the crazies.” He leaned his forehead onto hers. “Sooner or later, they’ll see that she’s a desperate nutjob trying to get attention. But until then, you don’t give her that power. She can’t hurt you or him anymore.”

  His strong girl, the one who’d held her head high all the times he’d hurt her, faced the media and the world head on, bared her pain on stage not so long ago, crumbled in his arms.

  “I hate her,” she whispered through her sobs into his embrace. “I hate her so fucking much.”

  “Shh, I know. I know you do.” He tried not to breathe in her warm, sweet scent, but fucking hell it was hard. He stroked her hair, rubbed her back in calming circles, and did everything he possibly could to resist the tempting urge to kiss her. To pick her up and carry to his bed where he could soothe her pain all night long. And then some.

  “God, you must think I’m so pathetic.” She sat up suddenly and scrubbed her hands across her face.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” He held her firmly by the shoulders. “You’re the strongest woman I know.”

  She huffed out a breath that sounded like disbelief. “Yeah. That’s why you left, right? Because I wasn’t strong enough to hold on. Strong enough to handle what you were dealing with.”

  Trace’s head swam from the abrupt turn of topic. “Kylie, I left because I was a mess and I needed help. I wasn’t strong enough to be what you deserved and I would’ve just dragged you down. You never would’ve gotten where you’ve gotten if I’d have let you get tangled up in my problems.”

  “You didn’t even give me a choice, Trace. You just…left. Just like my dad did.” Another sob racked her body and his temples throbbed. “Jesus. She’s right. I do have daddy issues, don’t I?”

  “No, she’s not right. Fuck her, Kylie Lou. She’s not even worth your tears, and honestly, neither am I.”

  “Why do you do that?” She stood angrily and moved away from him. “Why do you get to decide what you’re worth? You were worth it to me, dammit.” She broke down again and moisture blurred his own vision. Her voice was barely audible, but he still heard her whisper it again. “You were worth it to me.”

  Her words broke his heart. It felt like it was literally cracking apart in his chest.

  He reached out but she swatted his hand away. “Kylie—”

  “Just get out, Trace. Walk away. It’s what you’re good at.”

  “No.”

  She was glaring when she looked up at him. “Get out. I don’t want you here.”

  He shrugged. “Too bad.”

  “Perfect.” She shook her head. “I want you to stay and you bail, I want you to leave and you won’t. I wish I’d have known this was the way you worked. I would’ve used reverse psychology on you years ago.”

  “Babe, it’d take you a lifetime to figure out how I work.” He winked at her, and the corner of her mouth threated to give her away. She wanted to smile—he could feel it. “But I have you all figured out.”

  “Oh you do? Let’s hear it then.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter.

  “I hurt you,” he said softly. “More than I even realized. More than you’ll probably ever admit. So now you screw around with punks like Blythe that don’t really mean anything to you. Because they can’t hurt you like I did.”

  She glared at him like a bull about to stamp its foot in anger, and he knew he was right. It made him strangely happy to know that whatever Blythe was doing with the Tailgate Twin wasn’t going to break her. His girl was tougher than that.

  “But, Kylie, I swear to God, I will never hurt you like that again if I can help it.” He looked up into her eyes and gave into the pull he felt. The one he was constantly fighting. He was tired of fighting it. She was made for him. Everything in his entire life would be wrong without her.

  Standing slowly, he walked towards her, expecting her to stop him at every step. But she didn’t.

  “Tell me to stop,” he whispered when there was no long any space between them. “Tell me this isn’t the time or place, or that you don’t want me anymore.”

  She reached out and placed her hands on his chest. He didn’t know if she was going to pull him closer or push him away, but he knew her touch would break him and he’d lose the dangerously thin grip he had on his willpower in an instant. He clutched her wrists in his hands and held them between their bodies.

  “I can’t,” she told him in the breathy little voice that reminded him of the way she sounded when they made love. She broke the intense stare down they were having by shaking her head. “I can’t do this again.”

  “YOU TOLD her? Wow. Didn’t waste any time making your move, did you, Corbin?”

  Kylie would’ve stepped back, but she was pressed against the cabinets so there wasn’t really anywhere to go.

  “Told me what?” she asked, looking from Steven’s face to Trace’s.

  Trace released her wrists and turn
ed toward Steven. Even from the side, Kylie could see the heated anger in his stare.

  “Watch yourself, Blythe,” he practically growled.

  The sound of the driver lumbering up onto the bus distracted all three of them.

  “Okay, folks. Atlanta here we come. Wheels up.” Kylie watched as Tiny closed the doors and cranked the bus.

  In a way, she was glad Steven was going to be riding with them. If ever she’d needed a buffer between her and Trace, it was now. She’d lost control with him before. The moment she let him in, both literally and metaphorically speaking, she knew she’d be right back where she started. In over her head.

  Steven came over to where she stood. He ignored Trace completely. “Olivia told me the deal with your bitch of a stepmom. And I have an idea for a song. You feel like writing?”

  She could feel Trace’s glare on them but she needed some space. And writing sounded like a great way to work through the mess in her head.

  “Yeah, um, head on back to my room and I’ll grab us some Red Bulls.”

  “Cool.” Steven winked at her and walked to her room.

  “Kylie, I need to tell you—”

  “Trace, it’s been a really long day. I just want to get lost in some music and forget it all for a while, okay?”

  His jaw flexed, and she could feel the tension radiating off his body and onto her. She was wound pretty tight herself. Which was why she needed him to back off before she said or did something she’d regret.

  “Fine. But later, when you’re pissed at me for something that isn’t my fault at all, please remember that I tried to tell you.”

  She had no idea what in God’s name he was talking about. “Oh-kay. Night, Trace.”

  She was already at her bedroom door when she thought she heard him say, “Goodbye, Kylie Lou.”

  “Goodbye?” She turned around, bewildered as to why he’d say goodbye instead of goodnight, but he’d already closed the door to his room.

  THE SMELL of stale beer and cigars made Kylie wonder if she’d fallen asleep in a bar. But when she opened her eyes, Steven was sprawled out and snoring next to her.

  They’d stayed up until almost sunrise writing music. Some of it worthwhile and some of it garbage. But it had helped her clear her head.

  Sort of.

  She rolled over and checked the time on her phone. It was nearly ten. She knew soundcheck wasn’t until two, but she felt strangely panicked anyways. She rarely slept late when on tour. There was always work to be done.

  She took a quick shower and dressed, careful not to disturb the man-boy still sawing logs in her bed.

  Walking out in to the main area of the bus, she listened for any sounds of life. But there weren’t any.

  She made her coffee and grabbed a banana. The show in Atlanta had sold out in record time. She guessed it was because it was near Trace’s hometown. She hadn’t checked yet to see how tickets for next week’s show in Oklahoma City had sold.

  As she finished her breakfast, Steven stumbled from her room.

  “Morning,” she greeted him.

  “Umph,” he groaned as he went through the cabinets in search of sustenance.

  “There’s cereal,” she informed him as she polished off the last of her banana and tossed the peel in the trash.

  “This will do.” Steven grabbed an oatmeal cream pie and ate it in two bites. He pulled a soda from the fridge and slid into the booth. “Ryans, can I ask you something?”

  “No, you cannot borrow my toothbrush. We’re parked. You can go back to your own bus now.” She smirked at him.

  He didn’t laugh. He just downed a few swallows of his soda.

  “Joke,” she said, nudging him as she sat down beside him. “Well, not the toothbrush part.”

  “You’re hilarious. Anyways, serious question time.”

  She forced herself to focus on him and ignore the remnants of last night’s encounter with Trace that kept threatening to take over her mind.

  Steven cleared his throat and pinned her with his stare. “Which of the Tailgate Twins do you think is hotter? Because Alexis is my favorite, I think. But Camilla’s ass is like—”

  Kylie slung a throw pillow at him, and he leaned to the side to avoid it.

  “This is why you should only go on tour with dudes. I do not want to hear these things.”

  “I thought you didn’t do jealous?” He winked at her over the top of his soda can.

  “I don’t.” She rolled her eyes. “But I don’t want to hear about other girl’s asses either.”

  “Okay, okay,” he said, throwing his hands up in surrender when she grabbed another throw pillow. “But for real, on a scale of one to ten, how mad would you be if I maybe hooked up with one of them?”

  Kylie took a second to gage her own reaction. She wondered if it would hurt Steven’s feelings if she said zero. “Egh. Depends I guess.”

  “On?”

  “If it’s your favorite one you’re leaving me and our three illegitimate kids for or just the one with the nice ass.”

  Steven chuckled and she breathed a sigh of relief. Things with him were so…easy. She totally understood the lure of friends with benefits.

  But after last night, she couldn’t deny that Lulu was right. All the tatted-up sexy brooding rock stars in the world couldn’t hold a candle to the arrogant, tight-jean-wearing smartass she couldn’t seem to force her heart to move on from.

  “So, uh, did I interrupt something last night? I know I’ve been kind of a shitty friend lately, but sometimes I think it might be best if everyone else just got out of the way and let you and Trace fight to the death.”

  “Not really. I mean, kind of. But it was for the best. Sometimes things escalate quickly between me and him, even though neither of us would be ready for the fallout.”

  “You still have feelings him?” Steven didn’t look hurt or worried. He looked mildly amused and intrigued by what was probably a ridiculous concept in his mind. “Even after everything?”

  Kylie shrugged. “It never really felt optional, you know?”

  “Ah. Well, in that case, I’m going to go see if I can find a Tailgate Twin to ease my wounded pride. And maybe I’ll go try on some nut huggers and shake my ass around town a bit. See if that works for me as well as it does for him.”

  “You’re an idiot.” Kylie was still laughing when he left. Despite the residual pain she felt from Darla’s talk show circuit media circus, she was excited about tonight’s show. She hoped Rae and Claire Ann were coming so she could finally talk to them about everything. Especially Rae.

  After the Lily Taite Cell-Phone-Gate scandal, Hannah had gotten Kylie a new number. She hadn’t had time to let everyone know the new number yet. Kylie had ignored all of Rae’s messages, mostly because she never knew what to say. And it hurt, talking to Trace’s sister. It reminded her of a future and of a family she’d wanted so badly and would never have.

  But Steven’s honesty had reminded her of the person she used to be. The girl who spoke her mind no matter what. She had to find a way to stop avoiding people and her feelings. She knew the dangers. Loving people meant risking letting them destroy you. She knew. She’d been destroyed a time or two.

  But keeping them out, shutting herself off from everyone and pretending not to care, well, that just wasn’t really working so well for her either.

  She went back to her room and perused some of the lyrics she and Steven had written the night before. She was halfway through reading the words to a song she knew she’d never sing when she realized what she’d done.

  After getting all emotional about Trace having a woman in his room, which turned out not to be his room—or his woman for that matter—she’d let Steven sleep in hers. Granted, nothing had happened. But the door had been shut and there was no way Trace could’ve known for sure either way.

  And he’d been the one to comfort her about the whole Darla thing. Her stomach sank and the nausea hit. There was no denying it.

  She owed Trac
e Corbin an apology.

  “CLAIRE ANN, I have to get back to Encore Park like now. Kylie gets a little crazed if I’m late for soundcheck.”

  The coffee shop where they’d met for breakfast was crowded. His sister propped her elbows on the table and sighed. “Oh, so we’re worried about what makes Kylie happy now, are we?”

  “Come on, Claire Bear. You know I’ve always been worried about that. Just like I worry about what makes you and Rae happy.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was the first time in a long time he’d admitted how he felt about her out loud.

  “Trace, do you ever stop to think about what makes you happy?”

  He didn’t answer right away. He stared down into his half-empty cup. He didn’t even like the taste of coffee really. Just used it for the much needed caffeine.

  “Music makes me happy,” he finally answered. “Knowing the people I care about are taken care of makes me happy. Is that so wrong?”

  “No, I just worry—”

  “We’ve been over this. Stop worrying about me. I’m fine.” He pulled his worn- out trucker hat off of the table, glanced at the faded Yeti logo, and slid it back on his head. “Well you can relax. Tour’s going as good as can be expected. No one’s died. No one’s been arrested. And no one’s pregnant—that I know of.” He winked at his sister who returned his grin with an annoyed sigh.

  “Well, in that case, I kind of need to talk to you about something. Two somethings actually. One is kind of…er, not good. But the other one makes me happy. I’m just worried it’s going to make you unhappy.”

  “Let’s hear it. Whatever it is, get it out. I’m personally about to explode from holding things in all the time. So go for it.” He had an uneasy feeling about both things she was about to tell him. Her forehead was creased and her eyes looked tired. Too tired for a happy, healthy thirty-year-old woman to look.

  His sister ran her finger around the rim of her empty coffee cup in her hands several times before meeting his gaze. She took a deep breath and spoke in a hurried rush.

  “I’m worried about Rae. I think she’s doing more partying than studying and she won’t tell me her grades. I don’t think Mom is even checking in with her and it’s bothering her more than she lets on. I’m pretty sure the last few times we talked she was three sheets to the wind.”